Monday, December 29, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
2008 e.o.b. fun
Pharmacy/IV Therapy? $93,401.63
Blood Admin./Processing? $2,470.00
Cardiology? $532.00
Diagnostic/Therapeutic Misc. Services? $1,124.25
Emergency Room/Trauma? $652.00
Imaging/Radiology? $7,858.00
Therapy Audiology? $787.00
Laboratory? $41,412.75
Medical Supplies/Durable Equipment? $25,259.86
Respiratory Therapy? $34,900.75
Room Charges? $59,328.00
Surgery/Anesthesia/Recovery Room Services? $12,758.50
Lucky enough to live in a time of modern medicine & in a town with one of the top 25 thoracic surgeons in the country,
damn good health insurance
and the opportunity to see the joy in his children's eyes on Christmas morning?
Priceless.
P.S.)...not counting the 52 grand for six days of pulmonary rehab.
Blood Admin./Processing? $2,470.00
Cardiology? $532.00
Diagnostic/Therapeutic Misc. Services? $1,124.25
Emergency Room/Trauma? $652.00
Imaging/Radiology? $7,858.00
Therapy Audiology? $787.00
Laboratory? $41,412.75
Medical Supplies/Durable Equipment? $25,259.86
Respiratory Therapy? $34,900.75
Room Charges? $59,328.00
Surgery/Anesthesia/Recovery Room Services? $12,758.50
Lucky enough to live in a time of modern medicine & in a town with one of the top 25 thoracic surgeons in the country,
damn good health insurance
and the opportunity to see the joy in his children's eyes on Christmas morning?
Priceless.
P.S.)...not counting the 52 grand for six days of pulmonary rehab.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
the bell
Well, it’s almost that time of year again..cuddling up in front of the fire place, sipping some Korbel and watching the ankle biters have at it, tearing their way through some princess garb, and Lord forbid, the super-sized make-up kit I got them- complete with not one, but four bottles of glittery nail polish. Hello. Why would a mother do such cruel things to herself you might ask? Beats me. I already have no less than three purple splotches on my carpet from that yuck. But it’s done. It’s wrapped. And I know they’ll love it. It is an all out fact that I have gave birth to a duo of the girliest girls that ever lived on this planet. It's funny, when I was a tyke, my perfect day was to saddle up my dog with our lunch and a good book and go traipsing off into the forest. I don’t think I combed my hair until I was seven. Such are the mysteries of life, I guess.
It’s also that time of year for me to go on ad nauseum about something that has inspired me during this cedar-fied extravaganza. My fave movie in the whole wide world, It’s a Wonderful Life, which so happens to also be the holiday movie, is as important to the Mags Christmas Eve as bread, butter and booze (not in that particular order, mind you) and I could go on and on about it, but I've been there, done that last year. Ditto for my fave holiday tuneage. It's weird; I sorta dig making lists, whatever that might mean regarding my psychosis. I’d list up my best holiday moments, but since my family quit celebrating Christmas when I was six or so (oh, don't be too sad as Mama's splendid acting abilities would lend itself toward weaving some rather elaborate stories at Show and Tell about what gifts I received), I don't really have enough of those quite yet. But I'm sure making up for all that lost time by driving my three other Mags completely nutso with my picture snapping and over-the-top holiday traditions. I’m a sucker for all that is hokey, teary and just plain ole huggy-touchy-feely, what can I say? Yep, down underneath all my pork, there's a little Cindy Lou Who just dying to come out...except with feet and a bigger schnoz. So this year I will push that full tilt and babble about an animated flick that was released four years or so ago, The Polar Express. Hey, I’m old and behind the times, okay? I still haven't seen Pan's Labyrinth- the Foriegn Academy Award winner from '07 (and another Oscars in the Ozarks is coming up soon.. Agh! I'm so behind! Go Heath!)
I highly recommend this fab film for all of you out there, including those of you who don't even have kiddos. Oh, don’t be embarrassed or emasculated (you macho dudes, you)...just mellow out with your big, bad mopey selves and ditch that Will Smith movie you were thinking of renting tonight, or that end-of-the-world Keanu piece of crap and warm up the ole ticker a little, for goodness sake. It won’t kill ya. Yeah, yeah, I know..what with the recession, foreclosures up the yin-yang, higher than a cat’s back groceries, crooked Chicago politics and an automotive industry that’s in the toilet, times are hard but we still gotta have a little joy and magic. We all deserve it! We can get right on back to our depressions after the first of the year. In the meantime, this Zemeckis animated ta-doo with Hanks doing four or five of the voices is a delight. We bought our own copy this year and Geez and I are just as enamored with it as are our munchkins. I even laid down an extra couple of buckaroos and got the 3-D disc thrown in, with goggles for four. There I go again with the ‘why-would-a-mom-inflict-a-tossed-up-dinner-and-a-splitting-headache type of thing on herself’, but what the heck.
Its story follows a little boy who isn’t quite sure if he believes or not but once aboard a magical Pullman, he discovers many things about himself, about others..about life. Lessons for all of us crazy kids about leading, learning, counting on, depending on and believing. This magical adventure unwraps our greatest gift- friendship, teaches us that the invisible stuff is where it's at and most importantly, it isn’t the destination that matters but the courage to get on board and go! Plus, the Big Red Man shows up and lays it down in only the way he can. Sharing this with the babes has been a highlight for us, especially after last holiday when I wasn't quite sure where the train that we were on was gonna take the four of us. Props go to my two doves, who've taught me that the true spirit of the holidays lies in the heart and not in a box and for showing me time and time again that no matter how old I get, I can always hear that bell, it's simply a matter of wanting to.
It’s also that time of year for me to go on ad nauseum about something that has inspired me during this cedar-fied extravaganza. My fave movie in the whole wide world, It’s a Wonderful Life, which so happens to also be the holiday movie, is as important to the Mags Christmas Eve as bread, butter and booze (not in that particular order, mind you) and I could go on and on about it, but I've been there, done that last year. Ditto for my fave holiday tuneage. It's weird; I sorta dig making lists, whatever that might mean regarding my psychosis. I’d list up my best holiday moments, but since my family quit celebrating Christmas when I was six or so (oh, don't be too sad as Mama's splendid acting abilities would lend itself toward weaving some rather elaborate stories at Show and Tell about what gifts I received), I don't really have enough of those quite yet. But I'm sure making up for all that lost time by driving my three other Mags completely nutso with my picture snapping and over-the-top holiday traditions. I’m a sucker for all that is hokey, teary and just plain ole huggy-touchy-feely, what can I say? Yep, down underneath all my pork, there's a little Cindy Lou Who just dying to come out...except with feet and a bigger schnoz. So this year I will push that full tilt and babble about an animated flick that was released four years or so ago, The Polar Express. Hey, I’m old and behind the times, okay? I still haven't seen Pan's Labyrinth- the Foriegn Academy Award winner from '07 (and another Oscars in the Ozarks is coming up soon.. Agh! I'm so behind! Go Heath!)
I highly recommend this fab film for all of you out there, including those of you who don't even have kiddos. Oh, don’t be embarrassed or emasculated (you macho dudes, you)...just mellow out with your big, bad mopey selves and ditch that Will Smith movie you were thinking of renting tonight, or that end-of-the-world Keanu piece of crap and warm up the ole ticker a little, for goodness sake. It won’t kill ya. Yeah, yeah, I know..what with the recession, foreclosures up the yin-yang, higher than a cat’s back groceries, crooked Chicago politics and an automotive industry that’s in the toilet, times are hard but we still gotta have a little joy and magic. We all deserve it! We can get right on back to our depressions after the first of the year. In the meantime, this Zemeckis animated ta-doo with Hanks doing four or five of the voices is a delight. We bought our own copy this year and Geez and I are just as enamored with it as are our munchkins. I even laid down an extra couple of buckaroos and got the 3-D disc thrown in, with goggles for four. There I go again with the ‘why-would-a-mom-inflict-a-tossed-up-dinner-and-a-splitting-headache type of thing on herself’, but what the heck.
Its story follows a little boy who isn’t quite sure if he believes or not but once aboard a magical Pullman, he discovers many things about himself, about others..about life. Lessons for all of us crazy kids about leading, learning, counting on, depending on and believing. This magical adventure unwraps our greatest gift- friendship, teaches us that the invisible stuff is where it's at and most importantly, it isn’t the destination that matters but the courage to get on board and go! Plus, the Big Red Man shows up and lays it down in only the way he can. Sharing this with the babes has been a highlight for us, especially after last holiday when I wasn't quite sure where the train that we were on was gonna take the four of us. Props go to my two doves, who've taught me that the true spirit of the holidays lies in the heart and not in a box and for showing me time and time again that no matter how old I get, I can always hear that bell, it's simply a matter of wanting to.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
sweet nothings
The jig's up. I ain't Martha Stewart. Oy Noel vey. After 76 chocolate dipped pretzel rods that ended up looking like they had the shingles and three gooey sheet pans of peppermint bark, I have chosen to see life the way it really is. I am me. I am proud. But I am not a candy maker. I'll leave that to Tyler and the Food Network gang. And the next time I even remotely think I am able to understand the bizarre chemical compound that is chocolate, I will stop all nonsense immediately, spare my poor pals the humiliation of re-gifting their trashcans and just make myself a stiffie.
Awww. Nothing says the holidays like a toffee-nutted cow pie.
Awww. Nothing says the holidays like a toffee-nutted cow pie.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
the reindog
May we all revel in the simple joys of the season and remember to always wear a good coat.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
a big and tasty christmas
Okay. This is getting scary, friends. Amidst the hustle and bustle of this jolly ho-ho of a holiday, I found myself center stage the other day, in Mickey D.'s, getting a My Little Pony chotske for the girls and the next thing I know, Mama's ordering a number 5. Super-sized, for God's sake. Cloaked in shame at the sadness within and particularly the booming voice that ordered the trans-ass blowout..I turned to look at my husband, hoping for some sort of guidance, compassion...perhaps an explanation of it all, who knows? Nada. The only gift I got from the guy was a mortified stare and a neon thought bubble along the lines of "Great. In another couple of days, I'm gonna be married to the Stay-Puft Marshmallow giant from Ghostbusters". He took a couple of small steps away from me, and if I am not mistaken..I think I saw him trying to finger his wedding ring off in his left pocket.
Oh, my. Mama has been on a roll lately. Yep. A big, extra-buttered Parker House one, with a glob of honey on the side. What is happening, you may ask? Hell if I know. My morning runs are non-existent, my tofu has fallen by the wayside and my jaws have been gnawing like a rabid rodent on every Christmas cookie I can find. Perhaps it's that holiday depression I've always read about, or those nasty old serial killer hormones of mine..or maybe I'm just trying to fill the empty, proverbial hole deep down inside. Well, unfortunately, after making my list and checking it twice, it isn't any of the above. No excuses. Just post traumatic laziness, I guess. Isn't it funny at how challenging it is to simply accept the happiness and fortune we have in our lives and not find a way to screw it up? I mean, its right there. We deserve it. We earned it. But it seems we always find some way to talk ourselves out of it or nibble around it, I should say. That ole self worth kind of thing, maybe..stresses of the modern world..focusing on what we don't have..feeding into (in my case on) the commercialism of the season instead of the stuff that really counts. Well, this mama needs to take stock in all that this wonderfully red-ribboned holiday has to offer, keep it simple stupid, and get right on back to what Ellen DeGenerous calls, the "loving place". And that goes for my nasal folds and turkey neck, too. Oh, I'll snap out of it and find my way over this mystical gorge. I always do. Hope it happens soon though, before I take Manhattan....and swallow it.
Oh, my. Mama has been on a roll lately. Yep. A big, extra-buttered Parker House one, with a glob of honey on the side. What is happening, you may ask? Hell if I know. My morning runs are non-existent, my tofu has fallen by the wayside and my jaws have been gnawing like a rabid rodent on every Christmas cookie I can find. Perhaps it's that holiday depression I've always read about, or those nasty old serial killer hormones of mine..or maybe I'm just trying to fill the empty, proverbial hole deep down inside. Well, unfortunately, after making my list and checking it twice, it isn't any of the above. No excuses. Just post traumatic laziness, I guess. Isn't it funny at how challenging it is to simply accept the happiness and fortune we have in our lives and not find a way to screw it up? I mean, its right there. We deserve it. We earned it. But it seems we always find some way to talk ourselves out of it or nibble around it, I should say. That ole self worth kind of thing, maybe..stresses of the modern world..focusing on what we don't have..feeding into (in my case on) the commercialism of the season instead of the stuff that really counts. Well, this mama needs to take stock in all that this wonderfully red-ribboned holiday has to offer, keep it simple stupid, and get right on back to what Ellen DeGenerous calls, the "loving place". And that goes for my nasal folds and turkey neck, too. Oh, I'll snap out of it and find my way over this mystical gorge. I always do. Hope it happens soon though, before I take Manhattan....and swallow it.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
dear santa
...as dictated to Mama
Dear Santa,
I love you so much. Thank you for bringing me to Disney World. I love you. I’d like Jasmine pants and a Jasmine bra. (uh-oh) And a rose..and a wig from Tinker Bell. And Tinker Bell shoes and a Tinker Bell dress. And..and..and..uh..a Tinker Bell cookie cutter! And a pretend phone that I can call Bobo on. Oh, I love magic, Santa. I want a cozy robe..pink, with Cinderella on it. I love you so much. Goodbye.
T.
Dear Santa,
I have always wanted toe shoes, Santa. And a pretty ballet dress with a skirt that sticks w-a-a-ay out. And I want some sweets, too. I want a new Sleeping Beauty dress, and a Cinderella dress, a Snow White dress..and a Belle..and a Ariel gown. Oh, and a Doctor kit. (double uh-oh) You’re very special, Santa, and I think that is all I want to say. I can’t think of anything else.
Oh, yeah..and a Pocahontas dress, too.
Love,
W.
PS) Mom sends her thanks to the marketing team at Disney.
Dear Santa,
I love you so much. Thank you for bringing me to Disney World. I love you. I’d like Jasmine pants and a Jasmine bra. (uh-oh) And a rose..and a wig from Tinker Bell. And Tinker Bell shoes and a Tinker Bell dress. And..and..and..uh..a Tinker Bell cookie cutter! And a pretend phone that I can call Bobo on. Oh, I love magic, Santa. I want a cozy robe..pink, with Cinderella on it. I love you so much. Goodbye.
T.
Dear Santa,
I have always wanted toe shoes, Santa. And a pretty ballet dress with a skirt that sticks w-a-a-ay out. And I want some sweets, too. I want a new Sleeping Beauty dress, and a Cinderella dress, a Snow White dress..and a Belle..and a Ariel gown. Oh, and a Doctor kit. (double uh-oh) You’re very special, Santa, and I think that is all I want to say. I can’t think of anything else.
Oh, yeah..and a Pocahontas dress, too.
Love,
W.
PS) Mom sends her thanks to the marketing team at Disney.
Monday, December 8, 2008
t.'s ariel aria
Friday, December 5, 2008
down on main street
To quote a dear friend's mother, "Oh, honey, there's no recession at Disney". My heart is full, my wallet's empty and the girls have not stopped smiling since our return home from Walt Disney World. It was a sweet ride, full of giggles and song and roughly two bottles of hand sanitizer. One that was shared between dear friends..the tall red-haired human kind, and of course, the ones with whiskers, manes and tails. Being awash in all things Mickey was at times just a wee bit overwhelming but I savored every last memory and will hold it dearly for years and years to come. Uncle Greg showed us the best time ever. Leave it to a gay man to do Disney up right and to the max.
We began our trip by soaring toward the Florida sky to visit the girlies Amma and Afi (that's grandma and grandpa to you people). Then off we went, in style, cruising into the town of wonder in the very front of the monorail, thank you very much. Who knew, Big Red had such connections? The morning welcome was alive with dance and confetti and the look on W.'s face when she saw Cinderella's Castle for the very first time was priceless. Well, I guess I shouldn't go that far as the only thing that was actually free was a drink of water from the fountain in Frontier Land. Anything else, get out your purses, folks. But if you hang tough, and dig down deep through all the commercialism, movie promotion and 100 dollar princess dresses..you'll find your magic. You will find it indeed. Or in my case, you can really save some dough and create your very own super-saver magic by packing the kid's frayed, ketchup-stained, Wal-Mart Sleeping Beauty specials that they wore through the park gates every single day...much to the horror and dismay of my Helmut Lang'ed pal. The castle was sparkling with a mind-blowing quarter of a million lights, changing color every couple minutes or so. It was SO worth the price of admission...just absolutely stunning and left this ole gal amazed and misty. The night sky was ablaze in the most gorgeous fireworks ever and seeing Tinker Bell, all lime greened, with wings electric, sailing off the top of the most famous building in the world, flying over the heads of all the wide-eyed kiddos...well, what can Mama say? It was a wonder to behold. If that high wire would have snapped though..talk about reparation and damaged psyches! Yep, you won't find me going to Disney Land in L.A. again. That place is like Dogpatch compared to this 30,000 acre resort.
Oh, yes....but for every sweet and wondrous dream, there's always a nightmare thrown in..like the rain-storm type of REM shaker-upper that poured buckets down our backs for two straight hours...tree limbs a flying, ripped raincoats flapping in the wind, drenched, wailing children in levitating strollers screaming for their daddies. Let me put it this way. It was a Kingdom alright but it wasn't so magic that particular afternoon. Greg wimped out on me that day, having to snuggle up to his laptop to work..leaving Mama Mags to venture out to the Animal Kingdom with the munchkins all by her lonesome. Teeth chattering, armed with only a soaked box of Triskets and my hemorrhaging master card, the three of us Mags swam our way through the park. Thank goodness, his mother, who also happened to be visiting, had the mousy foresight and weather savvy to slip me two rain ponchos before our adventure that day. Me, being the selfless mother I am, cloaked my sopping toe heads in them, leaving myself to water log and limp my way through the Tree of Life. And it proved itself to be just that as it was the only place in the park that had warm air blowing from over head. I could have sat there and watched A Bug's Life 3-D show for the next three days if it wasn't for the two-ton guy in a Goofy hat that was lumbering his way over me toward the exit. But exit, we did...and onward, we soldiered, back out into the nasty wetness. I wasn't about to give up and give in though. And I sure as hell wasn't going to pay Disney 22 bucks for a plastic hood. W. asked me if I thought it best that we return to the hotel, but I assured her that if Jiminy could weather a storm in only his top hat and conscious, then we girls could do it! Besides, when ya spend that much dough on tickets, it would have taken an F4 to get me outta there.
I found out the next day, from the monorail conductor, that a tornado touched down just outside of where we were. Who knew Oz was so close to Disney? The sun eventually peeked it's way through the clouds, somewhat, and we were able to endure a few more hours of fun and frivolity, albeit rather chilly ones spent in a soaking wet bra and fogged up glasses. Don't ask me about that one special hour we spent after closing..walking around the parking lot...my two little ducks waddling behind me, trying in vain to find our hotel shuttle bus, in the end having to make a teary, shivering call to Uncle G. to leave his warm hotel room and 18 dollar Caesar salad and drive over to rescue the three of us. I've never been one who has any sort of sense of direction and it proved itself twofold that day. "Aisles 1 through 6, Miss, Aisles 1 through 6", were the only icy words that our hotel's front desk gal could tell me when I called her for some guidance and just a little bit o' Disney compassion. Oh, yeah, I forgot. I chose not to listen to Gregorio and booked us at a budget non-Disney property. Lesson learned, my friend, lesson learned. All the meanwhile, T-Mag is holding onto her rump, if you can picture it..howling, "I gotta poop, Mommy..I gotta poop! It's coming out!" Good times. My girlies were little amusement park troupers though and kept fudg.., er..I mean, trudging ahead across the sea of wet pavement. In the end, their bravery garnered them two darling Tinker pins from one of the nice security guards, while their mom got nothing but a mean case of jungle foot rot. Oh, well, pretty appropriate for the Animal Kingdom, I guess. Greg came close to calling CPS on the way back to the Best Western but refrained and got us Taco Bell instead.
Our Florida follies continued to unfold and we had the pleasure of meeting up one morning with Greg's family in their lovely suite, joining them for a yummy breakfast at one of Disney's beautiful lakeside hotels. It was nice to see how the other half lives. Particularly, the other half that's able to take a magical ferry ride to the park while the rest of us schlubs hold tight to the shuttle pole, keeping our snoots away from a bunch of arm pits. Next up, was Hollywood Studios..right up my alley. All the glitz and glam of movie land kept all us actor-types enthralled..including the story of ole Walt himself, "One Man's Dream, A Stay-At-Home Mom's Bankruptcy". Yes, it was a fast and furious four day trek across Orlando. Surprisingly, we were able to do all four parks during our stay. I think I set a family record for all that we saw, we did, we lived..in the short amount of time we had there. Big Red said, 'that I deserved that coveted, behind-the-glass Oscar for my ability to squeeze the very last nickel out of admission!" He also told me, proclaiming with Florida resident expertise, that the first week of December was the very best and slowest time of year to visit. He lied, big time, on that part. The after dark Spectacle of Dancing Lights on the "streets of New York" was fab. Our eyes didn't know where to look, it was so incredibly twinkly and festive. However, the 90 thousand bodies that were pressed against mine; also enjoying the twinkly festivities was something this old claustrophobe sure could have done without. And the Fantasmic Arena show was simply mah-velous, darlings! All of Disney's characters were in full swing..as we sat back and enjoyed another j'adorable dancing, fireworked, fountain-spewing extravaganza with Baloo shakin' his money maker and my personal fave, Ursula!
Epcot got a swifter run through than I would have liked, but that's what happens when you have four aching middle-aged feet, two gasoline strength Patron margaritas and 38 degree weather. Ahhh, Florida..normally sun and shorts, but for us- mufflers and gloves. Uncle Greg was so very kind to even allow Mama to have a glorious 30 minute moment alone..to ride something just for herself while he took the youngins to a Discovery Pavilion Fire Safety course. It was there he learned two things about my girls. They both couldn't care less about a shiny, red fire truck and in the case there's ever a scorcher at the Mag's residence, W. will leave her sister to fry in about two seconds flat. The very last night of our trip ended with a 50 piece orchestra and mass choir Candlelight Christmas show, on an outdoor stage by the lake...truly wonderful. The girls were all cuddled up in our arms with their tummies full of cocoa, the holiday trees softly glowing...the joy was palpable. The refrains of Hallelujah were echoing through the World Showcase as we made our way out of the park and back into the real world. Thanks again, Greg, for being my friend, making me laugh beyond measure, and especially for loving my babies and bringing their dreams to life.
We began our trip by soaring toward the Florida sky to visit the girlies Amma and Afi (that's grandma and grandpa to you people). Then off we went, in style, cruising into the town of wonder in the very front of the monorail, thank you very much. Who knew, Big Red had such connections? The morning welcome was alive with dance and confetti and the look on W.'s face when she saw Cinderella's Castle for the very first time was priceless. Well, I guess I shouldn't go that far as the only thing that was actually free was a drink of water from the fountain in Frontier Land. Anything else, get out your purses, folks. But if you hang tough, and dig down deep through all the commercialism, movie promotion and 100 dollar princess dresses..you'll find your magic. You will find it indeed. Or in my case, you can really save some dough and create your very own super-saver magic by packing the kid's frayed, ketchup-stained, Wal-Mart Sleeping Beauty specials that they wore through the park gates every single day...much to the horror and dismay of my Helmut Lang'ed pal. The castle was sparkling with a mind-blowing quarter of a million lights, changing color every couple minutes or so. It was SO worth the price of admission...just absolutely stunning and left this ole gal amazed and misty. The night sky was ablaze in the most gorgeous fireworks ever and seeing Tinker Bell, all lime greened, with wings electric, sailing off the top of the most famous building in the world, flying over the heads of all the wide-eyed kiddos...well, what can Mama say? It was a wonder to behold. If that high wire would have snapped though..talk about reparation and damaged psyches! Yep, you won't find me going to Disney Land in L.A. again. That place is like Dogpatch compared to this 30,000 acre resort.
Oh, yes....but for every sweet and wondrous dream, there's always a nightmare thrown in..like the rain-storm type of REM shaker-upper that poured buckets down our backs for two straight hours...tree limbs a flying, ripped raincoats flapping in the wind, drenched, wailing children in levitating strollers screaming for their daddies. Let me put it this way. It was a Kingdom alright but it wasn't so magic that particular afternoon. Greg wimped out on me that day, having to snuggle up to his laptop to work..leaving Mama Mags to venture out to the Animal Kingdom with the munchkins all by her lonesome. Teeth chattering, armed with only a soaked box of Triskets and my hemorrhaging master card, the three of us Mags swam our way through the park. Thank goodness, his mother, who also happened to be visiting, had the mousy foresight and weather savvy to slip me two rain ponchos before our adventure that day. Me, being the selfless mother I am, cloaked my sopping toe heads in them, leaving myself to water log and limp my way through the Tree of Life. And it proved itself to be just that as it was the only place in the park that had warm air blowing from over head. I could have sat there and watched A Bug's Life 3-D show for the next three days if it wasn't for the two-ton guy in a Goofy hat that was lumbering his way over me toward the exit. But exit, we did...and onward, we soldiered, back out into the nasty wetness. I wasn't about to give up and give in though. And I sure as hell wasn't going to pay Disney 22 bucks for a plastic hood. W. asked me if I thought it best that we return to the hotel, but I assured her that if Jiminy could weather a storm in only his top hat and conscious, then we girls could do it! Besides, when ya spend that much dough on tickets, it would have taken an F4 to get me outta there.
I found out the next day, from the monorail conductor, that a tornado touched down just outside of where we were. Who knew Oz was so close to Disney? The sun eventually peeked it's way through the clouds, somewhat, and we were able to endure a few more hours of fun and frivolity, albeit rather chilly ones spent in a soaking wet bra and fogged up glasses. Don't ask me about that one special hour we spent after closing..walking around the parking lot...my two little ducks waddling behind me, trying in vain to find our hotel shuttle bus, in the end having to make a teary, shivering call to Uncle G. to leave his warm hotel room and 18 dollar Caesar salad and drive over to rescue the three of us. I've never been one who has any sort of sense of direction and it proved itself twofold that day. "Aisles 1 through 6, Miss, Aisles 1 through 6", were the only icy words that our hotel's front desk gal could tell me when I called her for some guidance and just a little bit o' Disney compassion. Oh, yeah, I forgot. I chose not to listen to Gregorio and booked us at a budget non-Disney property. Lesson learned, my friend, lesson learned. All the meanwhile, T-Mag is holding onto her rump, if you can picture it..howling, "I gotta poop, Mommy..I gotta poop! It's coming out!" Good times. My girlies were little amusement park troupers though and kept fudg.., er..I mean, trudging ahead across the sea of wet pavement. In the end, their bravery garnered them two darling Tinker pins from one of the nice security guards, while their mom got nothing but a mean case of jungle foot rot. Oh, well, pretty appropriate for the Animal Kingdom, I guess. Greg came close to calling CPS on the way back to the Best Western but refrained and got us Taco Bell instead.
Our Florida follies continued to unfold and we had the pleasure of meeting up one morning with Greg's family in their lovely suite, joining them for a yummy breakfast at one of Disney's beautiful lakeside hotels. It was nice to see how the other half lives. Particularly, the other half that's able to take a magical ferry ride to the park while the rest of us schlubs hold tight to the shuttle pole, keeping our snoots away from a bunch of arm pits. Next up, was Hollywood Studios..right up my alley. All the glitz and glam of movie land kept all us actor-types enthralled..including the story of ole Walt himself, "One Man's Dream, A Stay-At-Home Mom's Bankruptcy". Yes, it was a fast and furious four day trek across Orlando. Surprisingly, we were able to do all four parks during our stay. I think I set a family record for all that we saw, we did, we lived..in the short amount of time we had there. Big Red said, 'that I deserved that coveted, behind-the-glass Oscar for my ability to squeeze the very last nickel out of admission!" He also told me, proclaiming with Florida resident expertise, that the first week of December was the very best and slowest time of year to visit. He lied, big time, on that part. The after dark Spectacle of Dancing Lights on the "streets of New York" was fab. Our eyes didn't know where to look, it was so incredibly twinkly and festive. However, the 90 thousand bodies that were pressed against mine; also enjoying the twinkly festivities was something this old claustrophobe sure could have done without. And the Fantasmic Arena show was simply mah-velous, darlings! All of Disney's characters were in full swing..as we sat back and enjoyed another j'adorable dancing, fireworked, fountain-spewing extravaganza with Baloo shakin' his money maker and my personal fave, Ursula!
Epcot got a swifter run through than I would have liked, but that's what happens when you have four aching middle-aged feet, two gasoline strength Patron margaritas and 38 degree weather. Ahhh, Florida..normally sun and shorts, but for us- mufflers and gloves. Uncle Greg was so very kind to even allow Mama to have a glorious 30 minute moment alone..to ride something just for herself while he took the youngins to a Discovery Pavilion Fire Safety course. It was there he learned two things about my girls. They both couldn't care less about a shiny, red fire truck and in the case there's ever a scorcher at the Mag's residence, W. will leave her sister to fry in about two seconds flat. The very last night of our trip ended with a 50 piece orchestra and mass choir Candlelight Christmas show, on an outdoor stage by the lake...truly wonderful. The girls were all cuddled up in our arms with their tummies full of cocoa, the holiday trees softly glowing...the joy was palpable. The refrains of Hallelujah were echoing through the World Showcase as we made our way out of the park and back into the real world. Thanks again, Greg, for being my friend, making me laugh beyond measure, and especially for loving my babies and bringing their dreams to life.
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