Last night I had heartburn when I went to bed, which never happens to me, so I wasn't quite sure what to do. At first, I thought maybe it wasn't heartburn--maybe I got infected from working with staphylococcus aureus at work that day! Then I looked up a staph infection and decided that wouldn't be even close.

I recalled something about baking soda in water, so I went to the kitchen and tried it, but it didn't seem to work. So, I looked up other remedies. Several people mentioned apple cider vinegar, and of course, I have organic unfiltered apple cider vinegar because I'm a crazy like that, so I went to the kitchen and took a swallow of it.

Baking soda and vinegar. Baking soda and vinegar. As soon as I had drunk the vinegar, I recalled the ever-so-popular elementary school science fair project: the baking soda and vinegar volcano, the volcano that bubbled up in a violent eruption to the jaded delight of children. Oh no. What have I done. I was sure that in a few moments, acidic lava would start to bubble up from the magma chamber of my stomach, travel up the conduit of my esophagus, and produce a rabid, foaming volcanic eruption at the summit of my mouth. I imagined MaryLynn shrieking as she witnessed the eruption, the same kind of shriek that would come if an alien were to pop out of my stomach. I imagined my impending death, death by burning biological lava in my esophagus...if only I had remembered those volcanoes!

Of course, nothing happened. The terror passed. I remembered the second remedy I read about, sucking on a piece of ice, so I did that, felt better, and went to bed. Huzzah!

I was never the type to do a baking soda and vinegar volcano. In fourth grade, I remember that on the day when we had to pick our science fair projects, I decided I wanted to do a project about MAGIC! It was going to be so awesome! But at the last moment, I chickened out. When I was called on, I said that my project would be, "...Do plants grow better in warm soil or cold soil?" At that moment, my "friend" Annie announced to the class, "Duh, everyone knows warm soil." But I persevered in spite of that embarrassment. I'd show them. And I concluded, very scientifically, that plants do in fact grow better in warm soil.

Oh, how my life would be different if I were more courageous! I think that practicality helps people grow up, but courage helps keep people young.

It's more like a starter's pistol

So, at work, there's an autoclave in the lab where I take ATP readings (an autoclave is like a super-hot pressurized sterilization dishwasher, and an ATP reading is where I make dilutions of yeast or E. Coli and filter them through 14 mm wetlaids and then add 50 microliters of CHG and 100 microliters of enzyme to the eluate and the filter and...read ATP...on the com-pu-ter).

The important thing is, the autoclave in this lab frequently makes sounds just like Lucille Bluth's rape horn. And every time I hear it, I smile to myself and I think, "Like anyone would want to R her."

And I have a moment of thinking, who could I tell this to? Like when I had orientation at work, and Phyllis the orientation lady told us that we would be learning so much that day that our heads were, "literally, going to be exploding." And I looked around and was like, really? No one else thinks that's funny? The same thing happened when we watched an introduction video, and before they listed off the key values of the company, there was footage of a guy releasing a bald eagle into flight. I nearly lost it, then felt immature, then felt like I was the only one with a good sense of humor in that room...and by a good sense of humor I mean my sense of humor. So...well. I'll stop there and go to bed.

To sleep, perchance...TO DREAM???

Whoever gets the reference in this entry's title gets...I dunno, gets to make me laugh when I forget about this entry and go off to live my life and then get a message that someone has commented saying they know the reference, upon which I'll remember the reference and laugh, because that's exactly what will happen. And no, I'm not talking about plain old Hamlet here. That ain't funny.

I have been having vivid dreams lately. Last night, I dreamed that I heard the most wonderful song in the world. I wish I remember how it went...all I remember that it had a layered, beautiful melody, the kind of painfully beautiful melody that I love. Also, it turned out it was by Weezer. Random. But I think that part came from me listening to this song on a loop yesterday:



This song is a bit of a deviation from what I usually like, but I love the little wandering melody in there, during the ooohs...what is that, a vibraphone? I dunno. Anyway, but then in the SAME DREAM, I saw the most wonderful movie in the world. This time, it was more subjective to my own tastes--I thought it was my favorite movie ever. But from what I recall from this movie, it was really bizarre and disturbing. I have no idea why my dream self would have loved it so much. My only guess is this: the bizarreness of the movie was so similar to the bizarre nature of dreams, so it was like watching a movie set in my dream world. And I love my dream world, I love to dream.

It's strange to think about me dreaming that I'm watching a movie set in my dream world.

On a side note, that's why Spirited Away is my favorite movie--it feels like a dream I might have. I think that's the kind of creative spirit I like best. I should pursue that...somehow. Lucid dreaming is probably the best way I can think of starting.

Second side note: the projects "Lamb Chops host a foreign exchange student" and "Lamb Chops conga line" are complete. Pictures to come later, plus more Lamb Chop adventures.

And it goes on and on, my friend

Yesterday, I cleaned my room and finally got the desk moved in and took down a bunch of old stuff from the walls. Everything feels so full of possibility now!

But what I really want to do is this. So, a few years ago, I had some pictures left on a disposable camera, so I set up my Lamb Chop puppets in various poses and took pictures. I had "Lamb Chops tea party," "Lamb Chops play marbles," and "Lamb Chops enjoy cards and brandy." I nearly die every time I find those pictures.

I'm inspired to do more. Here are my ideas so far:
-Lamb Chops host a foreign exchange student (guest appearance by that monkey stuffed animal that's in my room, though I don't know where he came from)
-Lamb Chops at the beach
-Lamb Chops climb trees (I was desperate to think of ones where I could get them outside)
-Lamb Chops conga line
-Lamb Chops in the kitchen
-Lamb Chops play hide and seek (Imagine them peeking out from hiding places!)
-Lamb Chops story time
-Lamb Chops play football (Football Lamb Chop running with the rest of the Lamb Chops strewn in her wake)

I suppose these sound a lot funnier to me because I know what my Lamb Chop puppets look like, and they look like someone dragged them around everywhere for years. Don't look at me.

Plus, now I'm remembering the story I wrote in second grade called "Football Lamb Chop." Lamb Chop was a member of the Minnesota Vikings, and I was their coach. They were going to the Superbowl. The story started with me practicing with Lamb Chop, demonstrating that I could use the terminology "touchdown," making me legit. Then, come the day of the Superbowl, I, their coach, had to stay home, home from Superbowl, because it was Lamb Chop's birthday and I needed to make a cake for the party. Feminism. So I sent Lamb Chop off in the toy car and gave her a dollar so she could get a can of pop at the vending machine after the game. A few hours later, when I saw Lamb Chop coming back down the hill in her toy car, tossing the last few drops of her pop heroically in the air, I knew they had won the Superbowl.

For serious.

Oh, and as I recall, there was a little side story about us playing Monopoly, and another about Lamb Chop watching TV and dragging a bag of potatoes onto the couch so I would think she turned into a couch potato. It made for gripping fiction. And can you imagine my illustrations?