Last night started out copacetic enough. We took Henry out for his routine viewing-of-the-fireflies part of the evening.
He loves him some fireflies. They fascinate him. Our hair matches, doesn't it?
He snaps his head this way and that, trying not to miss a single one.
I tried to photograph the actual fireflies, but have you ever tried to do that? I am no nature photographer.
I wish anything were this fascinating to me. I mean, other than me. And Barry Gibb.
Anyway, soon after that, I went to bed. Tallulah came with me. I was deeply in REM when the sound of her gagging woke me up. "OFF!" I said to her, before I was even awake.
That poor dog was sick as a pooch, so to speak. She kept gagging, then giving up and jumping back in the bed, then jumping off to gag pitifully some more, then she'd come back and spoon me, with her head on top of mine. I think she was scared. Heaven knows I would be, if I felt pukey. Have I mentioned the last time I barfed was in 1982? And I'd like to keep it that way?
Because I was worried about the dog, I lay there awake for a long time. I had many deep thoughts. For example:
- I really, really like peppermint Tic-Tacs. When I was a kid and played house, I used to pretend to be addicted to pills and the Tic-Tacs were my pill bottle. I would stand in my play kitchen and make my hand shake while I poured out a big batch of Tic-Tacs, and stuff them all in my mouth greedily. I have no idea where I learned to pretend I was addicted to pills. It could have been from the soap operas I was expressly forbidden to see, that my grandmother totally let me watch as soon as my mother was gone. I lay there last night and thought about how good peppermint Tic-Tacs were. Honest. I did.
- I do not know why, but I am curious about Kendra's wedding. Kendra. The really dumb Playboy chick from The Girls Next Door. She is someone who should just never open her mouth, because she is spectacularly stupid, but man, she looks good. I should NOT care what Kendra wore to her wedding, but I do. I almost considered getting up and Googling it.
- Sometimes I think about just giving up and cutting off all my hair. Last night I tried to picture myself in a pixie haircut, which yes, I KNOW would be a disaster. You have to have Halle Berry's features, or Sharon Stone's. I have Dom Deluise's features.
I guess that must have been the point where I drifted off, because I had a dream that I actually went through with the pixie cut and in my dream it looked adorable. Keep dreamin'.
When I got up this morning Tallulah was her usual perky self, and Marvin–who slept through all the drama–said, "Someone threw up a peach pit at some point in the night."
I doubt it was Brandon from 90210. Remember? He worked at the Peach Pit? With Nat. See, I am full of the deep thoughts.
Why would you EAT a peach pit? What would make you say, "Oooo! This looks consumable!" I mean, I understand my dog is not as intelligent and deep as I am.
Do you think Tallulah would like Tic-Tacs?