the rising

What a long eight years it's been. And at times, what a Mr. Toad's wild one. 2,290 days ago, I was looking at a crème brulee with a candle in it, running smack dab into my forties..and a wee, drunken Lilliputian was sitting on my shoulder talking up motherhood ever so faintly in my ear. I listened. I went for it. And it was the best thing I ever did. Had I known that my abs would wave goodbye and my décolletage would go from Northern slopes to a high def avalanche, I might have reconsidered. But ya gotta take the good with the bad, I guess. I went on to pick up some major stakes, became a home owner for the first time, got some of that there health care, and hey, I even bought myself a Honda! Yeah, our country may have gone to hell in a hand basket for the last almost-decade or so, but Mama had some pretty good stuff coming her middle-aged way. Thank goodness I had an empty bank account and avoided Wall Street, also insisting on staying within my measly price point and a 30 year fixed on a cozy two boudoir or things mighta been a little bit different.

Now another birthday's headed my direction and another kid is looking at school. It flies, my friends..it truly does fly. We have to enjoy it while it's happening, and yes, set reasonable 2009 goals, of course..but I'm learning it's more about the unmarked side roads..the wrong turns and even those pesky potholes than it is about that checkered flag. The magic in my life has been soft and quiet..not a lot of bang, but deep and solid, and for that, I am thankful. Speaking of flying...seeing that miracle unfold on the Hudson for all those folks aboard that aluminum bird was a great way to start the year off, huh? New beginnings in leaders, second chances at life....it's not every day a man is faced with a single moment in which everything he's learned, all that he's invested in his passion, his calling...is poised on a razor's edge and put to the ultimate test. A time when focus, control and cajones are mandatory. It is then that he rises to the occasion, while sharing a fate with those he's never met and goes and changes the destiny for every last single one of 'em with his big, bad self. Way to go, Sulley.

Yes, we have our heroes. Some on the front pages, some not. And I'm gonna sit back and revel in that today and tomorrow...then it's back to work. We have to believe that things will improve before they ever will begin to. I sure wish Dr. King could see all those cold toes that are gathering around the Monument right now. It would make him smile for sure. This morning, over Cheerios, I introduced my oldest to just who he was and what he did. That is definitely one of the best parts of being a mom..getting to share all the basic life stuff/info/history that we take for granted..that sometimes we forget to think about, to ponder..to honor. It makes us stop for a sec to try and put it into basic terms for a five year old brain to absorb; yet at the same time awakens in us a purity of thought, a sincerity of heart that is pretty easily covered in this day and age with a stinkin' thinkin' coat of armor. Yes..we've come a long way, baby. And we still have a long way to go. But for today, I feel darn proud...very proud of this nation and all us peeps punching the clock and shacking up within her borders.

Here's to a new year, new beginnings...to remembering just what it took to get this far, and to us ordinary folks for being a little bit heroic in our own humble way to help change things for the better and move it forward. And here's to the lucky bastards that really have connections and get to see The Boss, up close and personal, belting it out with that choir on the ivory steps of the Memorial. Dang.

the fresh prince & uncle fester

on the rail

...."we are here today not simply to pay tribute to our first patriots but to take up the work that they began. The trials we face are very different now, but severe in their own right. Only a handful of times in our history has a generation been confronted with challenges so vast. An economy that is faltering. Two wars, one that needs to be ended responsibly, one that needs to be waged wisely. A planet that is warming from our unsustainable dependence on oil.

And yet while our problems may be new, what is required to overcome them is not. What is required is the same perseverance and idealism that our founders displayed. What is required is a new declaration of independence, not just in our nation, but in our own lives - from ideology and small thinking, prejudice and bigotry - an appeal not to our easy instincts but to our better angels.

That is the reason I launched my campaign for the presidency nearly two years ago. I did so in the belief that the most fundamental American ideal, that a better life is in store for all those willing to work for it, was slipping out of reach. That Washington was serving the interests of the few, not the many. And that our politics had grown too small for the scale of the challenges we faced.

But I also believed something else. I believed that our future is our choice, and that if we could just recognize ourselves in one another and bring everyone together - Democrats, Republicans, and Independents, north, south, east and west, black, white, Latino, Asian, and Native American, gay and straight, disabled and not - then not only would we restore hope and opportunity in places that yearned for both, but maybe, just maybe, we might perfect our union in the process."

~ Barack Obama, Philadelphia- January 17, 2009

grog and blog

Lord knows, I'm over 18. And I swim like a fish. And when given the opportunity...j'adore sitting on my rump at the keyboard. Me thinks I found the perfect job down under. Hey, I've been out of the workforce going on almost six years now and Big Daddy needs some help bringing home the bacon. It would be awfully nice if I could do my share by providing 100,000 bucks of that tasty fatback. I better hit Target though and see if they have one of them there swimming body-girdle suits as I wouldn't want to be confused with any of the Humpbacks or Pilots splashing outside of that watery infinity wonder.

Yep, it's time to put a shrimp on that barbie for this ole bludger! You know what? Life's short. Make it two.

See ya soon, Waynold!

an emperor in winter

One year ago today, life was a little different. After coming off a lonely and early New Year's Eve, the kids and I waited. We watched and we waited for almost six weeks for Daddy to come home. He did, but just barely. And then all was followed by a long exhale and a February Christmas. My, what a flash forward it has been. If I had held a crystal ball and would have known that, once again, I'd share laughter around the tree with friends, see my girls set up a cookie tray for Santa with their father and sip bubbly with my family over a candlelit holiday meal...well, I might have ended up with a few less gray hairs and avoided those three new crows-feet beauties around my right peeper. Such are the joys and the pains of life, I guess. You don't know what's coming at ya, be glad you don't, and when it does..it is then you find out what you're made of. And I am absolutely certain of this- you find out just how much heart, sunshine and love surrounds you in your ordinary little life. And you never ever forget it.

I remember dragging our tinseled tree out back like a crazy woman and kicking it down the ravine. I remember the black quiet of all those nights, all 46 of 'em, and the crick I got in my neck as I watched my husband's chest, barely lifting with each tiny breath. Strangely enough, through all the outpouring of good, kindness and generosity from family, friends and even strangers..one of my deepest comforts was from Blockbuster. Yep, the big blue boy on the corner of Walnut and Vine. On the eve before the New Year, the children wanted to watch a movie and munch on popcorn and that is just what we did. Mama needed a salty distraction, even if it was only for an hour or so and that's when the three of us gals broke out a bottle of lemonade and went on our march with the penguins.

The tears quietly flowed as I listened to the velvet voice over of Morgan Freeman and I was profoundly moved by these amazing creatures..these weeble-wobbley flightless birds that swim like fish and dive like angels. Their strength and beauty..their story, I found truly inspirational. As I sat staring at the tube, with my tummy twisting from all that life was corkscrew pitching at me...the stark, white icy beauty of the Antarctic was like poetry at a time when I surely needed a stanza of it or two. It was quiet and fierce and magnificent. Some may find it odd, even chortle at a full grown woman finding a sort of salvation in this little being, but I did. Watching their struggles amidst a harsh environment and the unity and team player mentality of the colony just filled me, and in that time, I had a mentor of a sort. A four foot hero in a tux..the type of male who would sit on his old lady's egg for no less than four months, in temps of 75 below zero...keeping it warm, alive, just waiting for her special song (and a yummy regurgitated meal of silverfish). The only call of it's kind. The song that was theirs and theirs only. That stalwart, solid caliber of a guy was familiar to me. I was married to one down in the ICU. My kids and I watched thousands of these nifty creatures, band together, shoulder to shoulder, battling 190 mph winds, forming the intricate circling pattern..the special dance..that allowed time for all to have a chance to be in the warm center. Many in body, one in mind. Crossing miles and miles of frozen road..their resilience and determination..their can-do spirit was a perfect reflection of the power and vast potential that is innate within life itself. This small, yet majestic link in a grand chain that weaves itself through you and me..this crazy world and beyond. A symbol of faith and fight, proof positive that things can change, will change, and will always find the light in the darkest of darks. It is simply made that way. And it is up to us to plug ourselves into this mystical outlet, this absolute certainty..this profound truth and pulse of energy and watch the sparks fly.

It was through this beautiful black and white window..I looked, I learned and I listened, and for the first time in my life, I was able to grab my fear by the balls and choke it. My husband had his surgery the next day and successfully climbed one of the many Mt. Fugi's he would face on his long journey. It soon became serious again; however, as he started to fade shortly thereafter and that roller coaster continued until he finally pulled into the station and came back home to me.

Last year before the G. man got sick, my buddy, Tommy, who would be one of my rocks through it all, my medical consult and waiting room pal, my dear friend..so graciously volunteered to be a Santa to my girls. His beautiful beard was impeccably curled with love by his Mrs. Claus..his suit, the brightest and happiest of reds. On a cold evening, in his St. Nickiest of splendor, he visited..the peal of his sleigh bells emanating from our back deck, just a short four days before my husband would end up in the ER. I remember watching that video again not too long ago...how happy we all were. Cameras snapping and rolling..the delight and laughter of my baby girls. Little did we know that life would change on a dime. Just over a weekend, from martinis to mayhem..it would all suddenly be so very different. It wasn't the things, the this or the that of the season that made that one moment so special...just the tender golden joy on the faces of my girls when Santy handed them that candy cane. I will never forget it. And seeing G. smiling behind the video cam all seemingly healthy...well, we just never know, my friends, we just never know...

By the golden prayers of you and yours and all things good in the Universe, we were able to re-create that magic again this year, a couple of weeks before the holiday. And what a gift it was. Santa Thomas graced us with his jolly presence for a second time, dropping off a little somethin'-somethin' for the girlies...double checking to make sure he got their address change correctly before the Big Day. All those turns and fog can be challenging in a night's winter sky, you know. Once again, the visit was all things fab and seconds after he faded away into the darkness of the side yard, up in the black yonder, was a low-flying plane with..you guessed it...a blinking red light. Right there on her nosecone. My girls were slack jawed and G.'s eyes filled with tears. It was right then that I won that Power Ball I'd always wanted....like someone wrapped up every single thing in Tiffany's, times'd it by about a million..and then some. I hope your holidays were as special as ours and that your New Year unfolds all things glittered and sparkling for you and the ones you hold dear.

Happy, happy New Year, friends!

Our Christmas Story 2008
...and yes, I am well aware that my girls wore those red skirts to every single activity we did this season. Oy.

sweet dreams...

and thank you, Eartha and Mr. Pinter, for your gifts as well.

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.

let it snow

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.

the ozark von trapps

Wish you a happy holiday!!

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.

the reindog

May we all revel in the simple joys of the season and remember to always wear a good coat.

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.

tis the season

...and here we go, folks.

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.

t.'s ariel aria

Up where they walk, up where they run
Up where they stay all day in the sun
Wanderin' free - wish I could be
Part of that world...



I guess Disney inspired my little one...

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.