We always have these grand notions of using potatoes in our cooking, but it never happens for whatever reason. So they sit on our counter for days and then weeks, and eventually miraculous things start to happen. This one began sprouting amber wisps in random places. It looks like a desolate planet with the occasional breeze that sends the wisps trembling in unison.
Let's back up the camera and see what we get.
Ah. Well. Never mind about all that. If Lyla's head really is a secret potato planet, then it's one with no gravitational pull.
***Update***
Julie [after reading post]: Oh my god, you seem like you're high on Oxycontin. That made like no sense at all.
Dan: Can I make up some dialogue for the post's update?
Julie: Sure, as long as it's better than the trite nonsense you already wrote. Sorry, that was mean.
Dan: [Trying to think of fake dialogue]
Julie: Your biceps are massive.
Dan: Our daughter has male pattern baldness.
Julie: Ooh, they feel like rocks!
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