unicornIf you read this post, you know we’ve been experiencing some major DRAMA up at Two Terrier Vineyards this week. Drama that involved a formerly good employee whose downward spiraling performance finally culminated in a spectacular meltdown of the Linda Blair “head spinning around” Exorcist variety. I thought the worst point was when I found myself at the Sonoma Sheriffs Office discussing the merits of a restraining order. In the immediate aftermath, another employee went to take Mr. Problem his last paycheck and it seemed he had calmed down and everyone had moved on.

But as in the case with most disasters, the Monday morning quarterbacks started getting out of their Barcaloungers to say, “We knew this was going to happen, we saw all the signs, it was plain as day.” The common consensus seems to be that what caused this rapid deterioration were drugs. Don’t look at me. I don’t even take aspirin. So I wouldn’t know a drug addict if he came up and handed me a card that said “Joe Blow, Professional Drug Addict”. But a note to those in a similar position: Don’t Google “Meth Addiction”. It will scare the sh*t out of you. And a note to anyone else at Two Terrier Vineyards: if you think I’m employing a drug addict, please tell me in the future!

In that clean-out of Mr. Problem’s things, we did find enough scary evidence that lots of bad stuff was going on and that one or several potentially bad — but certainly unauthorized — people had been let on to the property to participate in it. Now I’m not so much freaked out by Mr. Problem as by not knowing which dregs of Sonoma County pondscum have strolled through Two Terrier Vineyards learning all the access points, familiarizing themselves with when people are here or not here, and noting what’s stealable.

So we are left with the local sheriffs doing drive-bys, the initial stages of a restraining order and everyone who works here talking about bringing guns. Welcome to the Wild West.

The person who is being pressured most to get a gun is me. To clarify, I have guns. I have two. One is my Dad’s old Winchester that he used big game hunting in Alaska (by necessity, it has enough firepower to take down a charging grizzly.) I also have such a girly-sized shotgun that it has been dubbed “The Hello Kitty Shotgun”. I’m not sure I feel comfortable that I could shoot either without taking out a few terriers. Actually, I’m not sure that I feel comfortable that I could even load ammo in them. Now people are pressing me to get a handgun and kindly offering the loan of Lugers, Glocks and other Dirty Harry type weaponry.

Besides, I always thought if I got a handgun, it would be a pearl handled derringer like Miss Kitty would carry in her garter.

I always thought if I got a handgun, it would be a pearl handled derringer like Miss Kitty of Gunsmoke would carry in her garter.

I suppose all this leads me to unicorns.

At some point, the craziness was just too much for me — what with person after person coming to tell me horror stories about this ex-employee and text after text from the crew cleaning out his stuff detailing the scary things they found and back and forth with contractors about security systems and lock changes and coordinating with the sheriff. Everybody was weighing in and most were telling me cheerfully how a tribe of Meth heads were going to charge through the gates and murder me and the terriers in our beds. So, don’t stay up there alone for awhile, ‘kay?

Luckily, I found that the antidote for that level of Crazy, is finding a level of Crazy-To-The-Tenth-Power that you can observe and laugh at from a safe distance. Thank you, Project Runway! Because last night’s episode brought the Crazy Town, repaved the streets, and put in a strip mall. I’m no Tom & Lorenzo, but suffice it to say that the craziest scene wasn’t the one where a designer huddled sobbing in a darkened stairwell hugging a stuffed unicorn. That would be either the scene where said designer deconstructs the evolutionary development of unicorns or, more likely, the one where that same designer declares through tears (Scarlett O’Hara style): “I WON’T STOP BELIEVING IN UNICORNS. EVER!”

I know you don't believe me, but here is Unicorn Boy hugging his plush unicorn. (Thanks to Tom & Lorenzo for the screen capture.)

I know you don’t believe me, but here is Unicorn Boy hugging his plush unicorn. (Thanks to Tom & Lorenzo for the screen capture.)

This was more than enough to lift my spirits for the evening. But I had the added bonus of Andy back from a business trip and directing his own uniquely British commentary at the TV.

Crap unicorn-loving designer: I’m just trying to design life vests for the Titanic. Which was a really lovely ship.

Andy: Wanker Unicorn knob. Go back to designing pretzel bags. You tit.

Heidi Klum: Auf Wiedersehn.

Andy: Take your unicorn and f*ck off!

Apparently, the British take their fashion very seriously.

So just for the moment, my spirits are lifted. I was upset the other day when my DRAMA didn’t come with vampires. Now I’m feeling really cheated that my DRAMA doesn’t have unicorns.

But as a Facebook friend pointed out, “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t prancing around.”