|Views from the Ferris Wheel|
Before we skibbled off to Comic-Con, we had already planned to take in the OC Fair the Sunday after with our friend Matt. I wasn't sure if I was really up to it, since I was wiped out and crabby from the con, but the fair sounded fun and distracting.
|This was the first ride we went on, that pins you against the wall with centrifugal force|
My stomach was giving me some... "problems," but I was so excited by all the pretty lights and frantic noise and motion that I just toughed it out and went on rides and ate chocolate-covered bacon, a BBQ pork sundae, and a deep-fried Twinkie anyway. This may not have been the best idea I've had recently.
|Anthony & Matt on "Cyclone"|
The thing was, once we started going on rides and stuff, I felt great! I couldn't believe I'd regained my energy so quickly. I was like, "I may have just turned 40, but I know how to have a good time!"
|Matt & me on "Cyclone"|
|"The Cyclone." I love this ride. It's simple and fun and looks cool. And maybe you'll get to go to Oz.|
We even perused the arts & crafts exhibit and discovered this really amazing woodworker named Fred Rose, who had done all these really unusual half-organic sculptures. There was a creepy "cabinet of curiosities" element to his work that all three of us really dug.
|This is just a mere sampling of some of his smaller pieces, but it had his name so I snapped this pic so I wouldn't forget.|
Here's the Fred Rose website: http://fredrosestudio.com/
We had a great time, but later that night, maybe around 2 in the morning, I woke up and thought I was DYING. My stomach was cramping like a mutha, and felt like a burning pit of nausea. My head was throbbing, my skin felt like it was being pricked by fiery needles, and I could hardly walk. I was really light-headed and almost afraid I was gonna pass out on the bathroom floor. I was only half-conscious of sinking to the floor and just laying there for I don't know how long, in misery. Oh, and did I mention I was sweating profusely? That was a nice extra touch.
I somehow managed not to throw up by sheer force of will. I kept thinking of what I'd eaten at the fair and just REFUSED to revisit that. Around 3:30 in the morning I took a bath, thinking it might sooth my furious stomach. Then I ended up lying on the bathroom floor for another unspecified amount of time. I eventually made it out to the couch, and stayed there in a fetal twist of delirium through the entire next day.
When Anthony woke up and discovered my sorry state, he went and got me Pepto, Tums, and ginger ale. Which helped a lot. But I kept starting to remember what I'd eaten at the fair, and then my stomach would start to go into this horrible massive churn, and I'd have to will myself to forget, to pretend it NEVER HAPPENED.
It took a little over 24 hours for me to feel normal again, and I still feel weak and emptied out, like one of those whole vanilla beans that Martha Stewart likes to pry open and scrape out brutally with a sharp knife.