I walked over eight and a half miles today on hot asphalt in 100° temperatures. I climbed the equivalent of twelve flights of stairs. My feet feel like two burning lumps of raw meat. My back is crying to be put out of its misery.
-BUT-
I rode Splash Mountain and Space Mountain and some other mountain I can never remember the name of. I rode in a flying ship a la Peter Pan and watched a symphony in 4D. I toured a Haunted Mansion and picked up a hitchhiking ghost. I sailed the seven seas with Captain Jack Sparrow. And, I did battle with a group of space aliens alongside Buzz Lightyear.
-SO-
I’ll put on my stinky sneakers and head out to another theme park in the morning.
What a wonderful day! Thank you CB, Lord Jeff, and kids for allowing me to tag along.
Studly Doright, the love of my life, was raised by an extraordinary woman who I’ve dubbed Saint Helen. Last week Studly and I traveled to the Texas panhandle to join in the celebration of Saint Helen’s 80th birthday.
The event, held at the Senior Citizen’s Center in Hereford, Texas, on Sunday afternoon was grand, with well over a hundred people in attendance. I turned to one of my children as I observed Helen greeting yet another guest and said, “You’re going to need to hire folks to come to my 80th.”
I believe said child muttered something about there being no way I’d make it to 80 before dutifully responding, “Sure, Mom!”
Eighty is only two decades away for me, so I better start being nicer to people. Dammit.
Back to Saint Helen, though…I took a great many photos and while most of my followers are not among her friends I hope you’ll indulge me. She really is a terrific person and the very best mother-in-law imaginable.
This wonderful cake was made of cupcakes with a layer of icing covering them to make it appear like a regular sheet cake. Helen, on the right, with her childhood friend Billy Tobe and his wife, Louise
My daughter, her middle daughter, and I arranged all of the flowers for the event. Not bad for three novices. Daughter Ashley created this arrangement for a memory table.This creation on the reception table was mine.
My lovely 11-year-old granddaughter, McKayla took charge of the flowers on the refreshment table.
There was much laughter, tons of hugs, and general merriment all afternoon. Saint Helen’s friend, LeonaFather Tony bearing gifts of homemade sauerkraut and store bought water guns.Monsignor Bloom with Saint Helen Friend Annette.Cousin Leighton. Saint Helen with Studly Doright Studly and I with Saint Helen and our children and grandchildren.
Two of the great grandkids kung fu fighting. No one was injured in this battle.All of the great grandkids who could be present. Two had to leave early and one missed the celebration due to circumstances beyond his 3-year-old control. My five grandbabies. Nothing makes me happier than having them all in one place.I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate than with this bunch.
Living in Florida comes with certain perks, and for a Disney-phile like myself, being able to get in the car and drive to the Orlando theme parks in just a few hours is definitely one of them.
I’m meeting my niece CB and her family for a weekend at the Magic Kingdom and Disney’s Hollywood Studios. CB’s family is flying in from Texas and won’t be here until late tonight, but I checked into my room in the Pop Century resort at 1:30 this afternoon and have already been Disneyfied.
The Pop Century Resort is divided by decades. Fittingly, I was booked into the 50’s section and found myself in a retro style hotel room reminiscent of those I stayed in with my family when I was a child. The modern flat screen TV is the only decorative nod to the current decade.
I’m relishing the idea of a room to myself for three nights.
CB, her husband Lord Jeff, and their two children will be staying just across the lagoon at the Art of Animation Resort. I scoped out their hotel this afternoon to see how long it will take me to walk it in the morning. Of course I kept getting sidetracked, so the walk is either ten minutes or an hour and 20 minutes give or take an hour.
These photos are from their resort:
As soon as CB calls in the morning I’ll join her family at The Art of Animation so we can ride a bus to the Magic Kingdom. I’m a few months away from turning 60, but I feel like a giddy kid.
M-I-C (See you real soon!)
K-E-Y (Why? Because I have a ticket!)
M-O-U-S-E.
Now if the kids next door will settle down, I’m going to sleep.
I have a fondness for wildlife, especially when I’m safely tucked inside my home or car or indeed anywhere that the wildlife cannot possibly physically impact me. Sometimes, though, these man-made barriers don’t hold up their end of the bargain and I find myself face to face, or as the case might be, butt to face with a denizen of the Florida fauna.
In the middle of the night I awoke with the urgent need to tinkle. As usual, both cats had to accompany me. Peeing alone doesn’t happen in a household of felines. Scout Kitty was her usual business minded self: “C’mon mom, get it over with and go back to bed.”
But Patches was hyper attentive, jumping up on the back of the toilet and meowing frantically. I felt a ping of moisture on my exposed derrière, and thought she had drooled on me. Ew. Still, something felt off. I finished my business and upon turning to flush realized that it hadn’t been cat drool on my hind end, but this:
Now, I didn’t shriek, but I did giggle as I imagined this little guy pinging off of my butt and onto the toilet.
I carefully helped the little stranger climb into an empty trash can and carried him outside where he could rejoin the league of frogs serenading the night.
“Run free little guy!” I called after him.
You might wonder what Studly Doright was doing during all of this excitement. Snoring. He was snoring. At least Patches had my butt, I mean my back.
How about a little Sinatra? Appropriate in this situation.
Before every big road trip we take either Studly Doright initiates the phrase, “Off again, on again, gone again, Flanigan,” or I do. It’s part of our family culture.
His PaPa Noyes taught him to say the phrase as a small child, back before Studly was known as Studly. PaPa dealt in scrap metal and would often invite one or more of his grandsons to ride along to Fort Worth. They couldn’t leave the “yard” in Hereford, Texas, until the words were chanted.
Studly passed on the tradition to me, then to our children, and most recently to our grandchildren. Tomorrow as I head to Orlando to meet up with our niece CB and her family for a weekend at DisneyWorld I’ll say the words even though no one else will be in the car to hear them.
A trending news story right now is a tragic one, as most seem to be these days. In Cincinnati, a 4-year old boy fell into a gorilla enclosure at the zoo, and after being dragged around by the 400-pound gorilla for 10 minutes, the zoo made the decision to shoot and kill him. The gorilla, not the child. Much to the general public’s dismay, apparently.
It is a horrible situation, but even more upsetting to me is the public outlash that has taken place since the incident happened. People across the world (and my Facebook newsfeed) are commenting, posting, tweeting, and using any social media platform available to post their disgust. Many are saying things like, “they should have let the boy die, it would teach a lesson to that mother who let him go into the enclosure. It wasn’t the gorilla’s fault.” Some are choosing less blatant remarks and are instead posting memes or sharing…
Praying for Eyebrowz 