Wednesday Winston: See no evil.

If you're feeling low....

Just think about this.

My sisters and I have been doing this for as long as I can remember--dressing up, pretending to be someone else--usually our characters morphing into someone a good deal uglier and more decrepit than any of us really are.
I used to own some extremely tight, long underwear-type, red pajama pants with tiny penguins on them that made me look exactly like Tweedledum when I stuffed a pillow down the front. I had long skinny legs and was substantially awkward looking, and Koseli would force me to wear these almost on a daily basis and perform a routine for which I became quite famous in my family. My audience would watch as I would hobble slowly into the dimly lit room, hunched and dejected, with an old blanket thrown like a cape over my back and a purple parasol that I used as a cane in my hand. Sad music would be playing, Then, on cue, Koseli would turn up the music and flash the lights as the song took a sudden an unexpectedly raucous turn. I would swing my blanket-cape over my head and dance-- still hunchbacked-- until Koseli almost peed her pants from laughing. We called it 'the hunchy dance,' or something to that effect.
I know for a fact that it was disturbing for our poor mother to see her daughters acting in this way-- constantly stuffing up our bellies and drawing uni-brows on one another. Most girls wish to be princesses or fairies. My sisters had these wishes too, but at the same time we didn't mind dressing up like goblins or elves or very fat men, talking in ridiculous voices, or using our mother's makeup to draw well outside our lip lines. She would stand at the edge of the room, shaking her head and suppressing a smile. She seemed less entertained by our silliness than by how much fun we had together--shrieking with laughter and forgetting any of our real insecurities in the warmth and happiness that only true friends can share.

Wednesday Winston: Misery Loves Company

This week I have been very sick.

Vomit. A pounding head. A string of terrifying dreams, all involving monkeys. (Planet of the Apes?) These are things for which I pity myself greatly.

However, when it comes to being miserable there is always one thing that can cheer me up: Winston. This is a video of a very sick and congested Winston. He had a difficult time breathing and nothing we did (nasal spray, q-tips, etc.) could clear up the snorting. 

And so, if you, too, are having a bad week go ahead; sit back, relax, and watch. I guarantee it will make you feel better.

But you'll want to turn up the volume.

Wednesday Winston: The Evening Stalker

You may not see him, but he most certainly sees you.

A spot of tea?

I got this tea set when I was seven years old.

As you can see, it features a multitude of very happy bunnies. Some are hanging out by the pond. Some are simply wearing top hats and bonnets. Others are stringing together flower garlands and staring up from their tea saucers with anatomically impossible smiles.

I love it.

The colors! The details! And my goodness-- the bunnies!  As a child I longed to be one of those bunnies, frolicking in a world of painted pastels. Perhaps my taste is simultaneously old fashioned and decidedly childish for my age. After all, I have a fetish for lace, anything white with ruffles and big flowered prints. I spent three quarters of my free time in elementary school making my bed, reflecting on books and arranging flowers. But looking at this tea set makes me feel young again.

Really young. 

When I first got it, Cecily and I had a grand old time with the bunny tea set. We had "tea pohtties," which were really just the bunny-head teacups filled with Ovaltine and tiny toasted Melba crackers which were our cakes. We wore white gloves, long gauzy dresses and my mom's old lipstick and I think it was the most sophisticated I have ever felt-- then or now. By the time I was 11 I had packed my tea set away, on account of it being too babyish. I remember peeking into the packaging later and spying a shriveled spider at the bottom of one of the cups. I gave myself a ten year hiatus from the tea set then. If there is one thing I cannot abide, it's a spider in my teacup.

When I unpacked it last week the spider was still there.

The bunny tea set now sits in my home-- all shiny and clean and spider free. Perhaps it's a decoration best used for a six year old girl's bedroom and not for a married lady. But then again, so are most of the things that I love most. I don't think Jason minds too much. After all, he knows that the bunny tea set is just the most prominent parts of me-- the old woman and the little girl-- mixed into a motley of brightly colored and happy pieces of porcelain.

I don't know about you, but I'm glad it's Friday.

Because I get to spend my entire weekend with this wonderful boy.

What is your favorite part about the end of the week?

Wednesday Winston: A losing battle.

Like any living, breathing, thinking creature Winston has his faults.
The primary of these is that he enjoys sleeping next to my face.
Next to, pressed up against, or on top of my face.
After he has placed himself in front of my nose making breathing difficult, he winds himself over the back of my head like a furry snake and proceeds to knead my hair with his paws. Sometimes he'll lick my face, which, if anything, is even more unpleasant. I've tried everything to get him to stop. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, piling blankets over his head and pinning him to the mattress or simply tossing him high up in the air and far away from the bed. Despite everything, he comes creeping back, slowly inching from the end of the bed, working his way up to my face; unearthing his nose from the blankets that have buried him and stealthily winding himself around my neck like a hot hairy scarf. In my tired state, all I have left in me is a menacing whisper, "Curse you, Winston!" as his rough itchy tongue begins its long sojourn over my tired skin.