Beware the Wolves

Last night, Zeca and I were cuddling in bed and she pointed to a spot under my chin and said, "What's that?" I said, "That's a mole." Then, she examined my face more closely and pointed to a spot near my eyebrow and said, "What's that?" I felt around at the spot and said, "Oh, that's a zit." Then, she ran her fingers through my hair and said, "Mama, there is a red spot on your scalp." I nodded and she said, "What is it?" and I could have said so very many things but I went with, "It's probably a mark from a hairwolf." She tilted her head and laughed a suspicious little laugh and said, "What?" and I said, "You know, hairwolves. You've heard of werewolves, right? Well, hairwolves are kinda like that but they live in your hair." She clapped her hands over her mouth in shock and said, "Mama - that's weird and kinda scary." I laughed and explained that I was joking. I told her there was no such thing as a hairwolf and that the little red spot was simply a birth mark. She slept through the night so I can assure you there were no consequences of the little hairwolf story. When Luisa and I went to bed, I told her about the hairwolves. Well, I tried - I could barely get the story out because I was laughing so hard. Hairwolves! As I rolled around laughing, I suddenly realized that there was not a chorus of laughter as there should have been. I dried the tears from my eyes and looked at her and she was just staring at me...

Luisa: You told her that? At bedtime?

Vikki: What? Hairwolves! Like werewolves! It's so funny.

Luisa: How do you even think of these things?

Vikki: I'm a genius.

Luisa: It's not funny, just weird.

Vikki: No, you don't understand! Hairwolves! Like teeny tiny wolves in the hair - BWAH HA HA!

...and then she rolled over. I was quiet for about 15 minutes and then I couldn't help myself - I said, "Luisa?" and she said, "Yeah?" and I said, "HAIRWOLVES!" and then laughed maniacally. This morning? She was gone. She left me over the hairwolves. Ok, not really but that would have been quite a story. In reality, we woke up early because of a storm and I said, "I had a hard time going to sleep last night." She said, "Because of the hairwolves?" and you know what? It was because of the hairwolves. I couldn't sleep because I kept picturing this:

That's right - Dances with Hairwolves! Yep. Genius.

p.s. Zeca just got up and I read her this post and she thinks it's hilarious. So, this bears the Zeca stamp of approval.

Fashion Friday - Bedbug Edition

I was up until 3 in the morning writing that post on "The Kids Are All Right" which apparently took all of my thoughts and words because I couldn't think of anything else to write about for the rest of the week. I will say that I did enjoy my sleep deprived mania on Monday though I have mild regrets about calling Deborah from Peaches and Coconuts on the actual telephone and babbling uncontrollably for 1 hour and 12 minutes.  We (more accurately, "I") talked so long that the crick of my arm (Do I need to define "crick"? You know, the part on the other side of the elbow) was sweaty and the phone (my Blackberry which is weird to have a long conversation on anyway) was stuck to my ear (the left one if you must know) with sweat as well (how many parenthetical statements can we have in a sentence? Clearly, many). We were plotting a lesbian takeover of the internet which required me to talk about how I think our house smells like feet. Um, yeah - that's relevant. Deborah was patient and kind - she's a great person to call when you are tired/drunk/high/crazy. Anyway, it's been a weird week. I've been trying to catch up on sleep. I guess I can't stay up until the wee hours anymore without  paying the price later because I am an old woman (named after my mother/my old man is another/child that's grown old - line from which song? Anyone? And, by the way, yay for parentheses!). So, today I have no words but I do have a picture - it's me in my county issued bedbug kit!

"Hi! It's me...your friendly county social worker. Can I come in and talk to you for a bit?"

The only thing this outfit is missing is a tin foil hat.

A Dispatch from the Outpost

Dearest Readers, I am writing to you from the vast frontier known as Cubicleland. As I sit here at my desk, my work illuminated only by the flickering fluorescent lights, I swear I can hear the lonesome coyote howling outside. These are difficult times and I am writing this on actual paper, wide-ruled no less. Dark, dark times indeed. My office computer has been taken down by a virus, likely the result of contact with the white European settlers that are so plentiful in this place. I cannot do anything without my computer so I find myself huddled in the corner of my cubicle, lost and alone. I don't know how long I shall be able to continue this letter because the air conditioning has kicked on and I am shivering from the cold. I have no blankets, only napkins from Chipotle, and I have yet to fashion a coat out of them for myself. That is clearly a high priority. It is me against the elements and I can only pray that help arrives soon.

Though I would like to sound brave, I must admit that my morale is low as I consider the gravity of my situation. My iPod is only 1/2 charged. My personal Blackberry is being drained by my desperate attempts to communicate with the outside world via 140 character messages sent out into the ether. If things should become dire, I do have a land line though it's poorly lit screen and limited options confound. As for sustenance, I have 1/3 of a Diet Coke left. I also have 2 packages of Mentos gum, 4 packets of ketchup and 3 packets of soy sauce. There is a vending machine nearby but I am afraid to leave for fear that help will arrive in my absence. So, there is nothing for me to do but wait. I pass the time writing to you, hoping that somehow you will find this. My hand is not accustomed to holding pen to paper, however. It cramps and protests this most lowly act to which it has been reduced. In those moments, I must turn my attention to other activities such as building structures out of paper clips, dental floss and tampons. I am also planning to make an instrument out of rubber bands and an Altoid tin. Oh, the music I will make! These tasks challenge my mind and take my mind off of my woes. I cannot lie - it is too quiet but such quiet brings with it the opportunity for deep thought and reflection. I've been able to ponder many of life's biggest mysteries and have come to the conclusion that a tree falling in the woods would, in fact, generate sound waves regardless of the presence of witnesses. Also, I am certain that a woodchuck would chuck a great deal of wood if indeed a woodchuck did chuck wood. I continue to grapple with the chicken and egg conundrum.

Oh god. I hear something rustling outside. It could be a bear or a wolverine or, even worse, the guy that fixes the copy machine. I promise you I will be brave. I will protect my stake. I may not have a proper weapon but I've got chopsticks and garlic breath and I am prepared to fight to the death. Hopefully, I will survive. If I don't, please know that I was thinking of you at the end.

Sincerely,

Vikki 

*This post was written on paper. I wasn't exaggerating! I was forced to wait all day for my computer to be repaired and was told that I had to stay at my desk to wait for the IT specialist to bring me a new one. No one ever came. Had this been an actual emergency, my body would have been found covered in napkins, clutching my iPod in one hand and my Blackberry in the other. It would have been grim, people....very grim.