Shimmy shimmy pow!

I've been having some truly whackadoodle physical events lately, no doubt the result of scything out alcohol, smokies, coffee, and psychotropic medications out of my life with one quick, clean blow.

I'm not very funny when I am not drunk. Instead, I tend to weep at fireworks and the song "Drift Away" on the radio, like some simpering fool. I consider the sunflower in its glory, and when my child said "the brussels sprouts are growing larger" I thought sagely "yes, and so are you, my child. And one day you will be grown, and I an old woman." You would think the opposite would be true--that wine would make me sniff over sunsets and pick fights with loved ones, but it just makes me feel pretty darned good. I even type better. I am sober as a worm and have already made 18 + typos that I have had to go back and fix.

Why take a break, then? Well, I suppose I don't feel so durned good in the mornings, especially with two boys sitting on my head and using it as a launching pad to my duodenum. And cigarettes, while they make one unutterably cool, are supposed to be kind of bad for one's health. I only smoke them occasionally and surreptiously after the sun has gone down, but even one wreaks havoc with my smell buds (or whatever them things are called) and sends me into a hypochondriacal tither.

I just wanted to know what it was like to eat some fresh veggies and drink a cup of tea for sport and not be jiggered up with all sorts of drugs and hoo-ha. I just had to fix eight more typos. Blast this heaththt busunessd!

So, overall I feel better. BUT I am having the oddest dizzy spells, from whence I know not whence. (Is that an accurate syntactical construction? This sobriety crap is making me feel all giddy and giving me the jim-jams!) They tend to start when I stand from a seated position or turn my head suddenly to one side. It seems I can feel a vibratory, metallic kind of shimmy in my head--like I am occupying more than one place in space at one time. Like a rapid-fire camera is going click-click-click as I turn my head, and each instant of the turn is being recorded, and I am existing in each instant of the turn. In case you were wondering, it's not fun. It's not like those tracers you used to get after your big LSD binges when you used to follow the Dead, you decadent old hippie!

Sometimes the dizziness feels more like I turned my head one way, and my brain--a lump of recalcitrant dough--rebelled and went the other way. Sometimes I get an uncomfortable little electrical surge of blood up through my brainbox, and even the blood cells seem dizzy, as if they got shocked and darted that way and then found they could not get out through the top of my head.

So when my boys asked me tonight if I'd like to roll down a hill with them, I politely declined. When we drove home, I decided looking at my blind spot too much--requiring a head turn--was not a good idea. Then I saw some fireworks over the horizon, at Rye Playland. "The fireworkers are running up in the trees!" said the littlest boy. We drove after the fireworks. We chased them down Playland Parkway, but we couldn't seem to catch them. "Don't worry, you will see plenty of fireworks in your life," I said, and cried, because "lives" in general are just awfully moving and sad sometimes. "In mein lifejacket?" said littlest boy.

The presence of any typos in the above posting should be directed to management. That is, comments about the presence of said typos should be directed to management, etcetera.