not a fan

Growing up I had a veritable Zoo in my bedroom. Stuffed animals of every species pow-wowed it in every corner. I received way too many additions to my collection for birthdays and Christmas. Top of the line red-ribbon-around-the-neck-worthy stuffed animals. Cream of the crop. Wait. That's for vegetables. I didn't have any stuffed vegetables. Cream of the...herd? Pack? Pride? Thanks to a tidy and thoughtful mother, they are now stored in a safe, dry place at my parent's (in the food storage room) so I can hand them down to my kiddos. I say hello to them each time I go "shopping" at C & J's General Store. Sometimes, even though the sign says not to, I feed the animals. (Unless Mom's bought animal crackers. That's just plain rude). We catch up over a pack of fruit snacks or mandarin oranges and I leave well-aware of all the good Zoo gossip. (Hippos say the meanest things).

Here at 2186, M has a stuffed pink pig. K has a little stuffed elf. Apparently at age 26, this is still allowed if you don't have a husband and your landlords say no pets. M hugs her piggie, snuggling up to his snout each night. K keeps Hermie under her chin until dawn. All this while I'm in the next room fighting off nightmares of spiders or dealing with the dark...alone. Sure I'm 26. But, there's no written rule that says you can't have a buddy, right? Or if there is, M and K have yet to get the memo.

Last night was one of those instances where a cuddly pal would have come in handy. I woke up in a bit of a sweat and stood up to turn on my ceiling fan. I have never lived in bedroom with a ceiling fan, so as my feet arched to reach the pull-cord, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Upon initial tug, I was blinded by the lovely fluorescent light which streamed out of the fixture. My eyes winced, and with dilated pupils, I reached up to pull the cord again. Out went the light. On my second attempt, blessed air began to circulate about the room. Slowly, the fan began to warm up, whirring into motion as I tip-toed back into bed. Faster and faster it went, until it hit warp speed. The ceiling began to shake. I retracted my knees into my chest as I simultaneously cinched up my comforter around my neck. I looked up. I looked down. I looked to my left and to my right, in a Did you just see what I just saw? glare of awe. But there was no one there. No Suzie Bear or stuffed Tigger to say, "Hooo Hooo Hooo Hooo! Sure did!"

The fan got faster and faster and the shaking grew louder and louder. I didn't dare budge. Papers on the desk began to flutter, nearly airborne. Quotes on my mirror started pulling at the edges. And, in what I can only describe as a cross between the movie Twister and The Wizard of Oz, my tiny little room became a virtual vortex. Before long, my hair resembled the fan blades, sticking straight out at a 90 degree angle from my head, flailing across my face. Papers in flight, and hair that rivaled Pipi Longstocking's, I needed to take action. This situation called for more than paperweights and a hair elastic.

Taking a deep breath (unnecessary, I realized, after the fan literally knocked the wind into me) I stepped back out of bed. I reached my shaky hand up into the wind, directly below the fan blades, desperately reaching for the cord. (It was very Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory - the classic Gene Wilder movie - where Charlie and Grandpa Joe are stuck in the bubble room). I was in dire need of some fizzy lifting juice. I couldn't reach! Perhaps in my "We're- not-in-2186-anymore, Martha!"stifled-shrieking, I had been shrinking! Up and up I stretched in distress, trying to stop the spinning. Just as a cow twisted by in a funnel cloud, I was granted a miracle. In an air-Jordan moment, I jumped. Miraculously, I grabbed the right cord. The whooshing slowed. The papers stopped fluttering, and my hair returned to it's appropriate and vertical position. The ceiling-shaking ceased and there were few after-shocks. I got into bed, my eyes sinking shut after sheer exhaustion (and relief) set in.

I'm headed to C & J's General Store first thing tomorrow to pick up a few things, namely Tigger and Suzie Bear in her corduroy dress. I'll hug Suzie Bear and warn her about the dangers of the Real World, which lies outside the Yale Avenue Zoo. I'll grab Tig and tell him this ain't no Hundred Acre Wood, yo, then say, "Let's bounce!" We'll leave canned peas and corn for the others and promise to return soon with all the gossip from 2186. I hear M sleeps with a pig!