Lack of sleep = nonsensical shoe post

I have this one pair of boots that I love.  I bought them on sale last year.  They're kind of like Uggs except they are gray and the top part looks like leg warmers.  The inside is furry and it feels like wearing slippers when I put them on over my pants. 

I don't wear them very often.  I guess I feel that it's barely ever cold enough to warrant slipper leg warmers, but it makes me sad to see them sit in the collection of shoes by the door.  The other shoes are always coming and going, but my poor little fUggs (fake Uggs) never get invited out.  So when these last few rainy days came upon us and it began to get a little bit chilly I said, by George I'll wear them!

I put them on as I went out and about on Wednesday.  I enjoyed them so much that I found myself walking extra distances just to prolong the effect. Then I had a brilliant idea.  I was scheduled to work on a shoot all day on Thursday up in Thousand Oaks.  The weather was supposed to be in the 60s, and I was going to have be on my feet an awful lot.  What a perfect situation for my fUggs!  I'm not gonna lie, the idea of wearing them was the main reason I was able to get up at 5:00 that morning.

Let me tell you what happened.  One time when I was little I read a story that I think was in one of the Ramona Quimby books.  In it, Ramona loves her soft bunny rabbit pajamas so much that she doesn't want to take them off.  She decides to pretend she's a firefighter and wear her pajamas under her clothes to school.  At first she feels lovely and warm but then she overheats and gets sick.  That is what happened to me with my fUggs.

These boots, while great for quick runs to the grocery store, would not be recommended by Dr. Scholl for an 11-hour day standing up.  Not only did my legs cramp but my back started to ache and my feet got hot.  I am Ramona Quimby and I am no fireman.  Also, I need to go to bed now to repair the havoc these devil shoes wreaked on my poor old bones.  This pretty much sums up how I feel:

Mr. Grumpledump's Song

Everything's wrong,
Days are too long,
Sunshine's too hot,
Wind is too strong.
Clouds are too fluffy,
Grass is too green,
Ground is too dusty,
Sheets are too clean.
Stars are too twinkly,
Moon is too high,
Water's too drippy,
Sand is too dry.
Rocks are too heavy,
Feathers too light,
Kids are too noisy,
Shoes are too tight.
Folks are too happy,
Singin' their songs.
Why can't they see it?
Everything's wrong!

-Shel Silverstein

I cannot go to school today . . .

When I was in grade school, we had a closed-circuit TV morning program that was broadcast from the library.  Somehow, I don't even remember why, I got the chance to read a poem during the program.  I was all excited because they let me pick any poem I wanted (and I got to be late to class).  I was going to share my poetry-reading skills with the world!  The other kids would watch and marvel at my knowledge of the written art.  They would point and say, "Hey, that's Lisa.  I never knew she could read poetry so well!" And after it was over, I would return to class, and my classmates would swarm me and ask for my autograph.

So which poem to choose?  It was a no-brainer.  I reached for old faithful, my copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends.  I made the perfect selection, I just knew it.  It really spoke to my audience and the issues important to them today: 

Sick

"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut--my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is . . . Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!" 

Well, my big moment was close at hand. I was sitting at a table off camera next to the "news desk." The girls who were reading the morning announcements said, "And now it's time for your weekly poem. Today's selection will be read by Lisa Di Trolio. What poem do you have for us today, Lisa?"

The camera creaked over to me.  It felt like a thousand eyes aimed directly at my head.  Sudden stage fright hit.  I went into survival mode.  The only way to get out of this was quickly and efficiently.  So I read the whole thing like this:

"SickbyShelSilversteinIcannotgotoschooltodaysaidlittlePeggyAnnMcKayIhavethemeaslesandthemumpsagasharashandpurplebumps . . .

Later I slinked back to class, hoping and praying that everyone had chosen that moment to go to the bathroom. 

Even later, for some reason they asked me to appear back on the morning show.  Maybe I was the only kid who read poems in that school?  It was a chance to redeem myself.  I took a few notes from the director and A.D. (i.e. a teacher who was volunteering and my mother who was the room mother that day).  I like to think that I redeemed myself, but honestly my mind has blocked it out. 

Mom, can you shed some light on this?

Best case scenario

In the middle of the afternoon yesterday, somewhere in the labyrinth of crumbling concrete parking areas and Gaza Strip stand-ins outside, I heard someone shout with genuine enthusiasm, "Yippee!"  I couldn't hear whatever else followed, but it made me realize that I don't think I've ever heard someone use the word "yippee" in its intended context.  A lot of the time people use it wryly, but rarely do they use it to express "wild excitement or delight" as defined in the dictionary.  I can think of a lot of words I would go to first if I won the lottery before I would get to "yippee."  It got me wondering what this person was so excited about.  I couldn't tell if it was a child or a maybe a teenager.  What would make them so happy?  As I left the house to run errands, I thought about it.  For some reason I was channeling Shel Silverstein:

The ice cream truck broke down- yippee!
The ice cream truck broke, it sputtered and choked,
Now it's free choco tacos and free frozen cokes,
Hurry, you'll get first pick out of the smoke.
It's all melting and the man canceled the fee.
Yippee!
Yippee!

In other news, I have just discovered a recipe for choco tacos.  Oh dear.