The Macarena

The dance craze that's sweeping the nation......

Ok, so it was a few years ago. But. I. Can't. Do. It. I am not co-ordinated in the least bit. I can't do the jitterbug, two-step, virginia reel, hand jive, twist, square, waltz, line, aerobic or swing dancing. I CAN do a mean pee-pee dance, however.

I am not graceful. I trip up the bleachers. I fall in the mud. I slip on the deck of the pool. I dodge snowmobiles incorrectly. I'm just a clutz. Maybe that is why I like the water so much. I don't have to be graceful in there. But, I feel graceful in there.

I love Jimi Mistry. I just read somewhere that he is "up-and-coming British talent". I fell in love with him in "The Guru". He plays an Indian dance instructor who comes to America to be a famous dancer. But ends up at an audition for a porno. Jimi: "Wanna see my Macarena?" Lenny: "Oh, is that what you kids are calling it these days?" ha! cracks me up every time I see it. And I've seen it plenty.


I've seen several other movies he's been in. Really liked "Born Romantic", "A Touch of Pink", and "Ella: Enchanted", which I need to see again, because I fell in love with Jimi after I had seen it...... Wasn't crazy about "The Truth About Love" but that may have had more to do with Jennifer Love Hewitt trying to speak with a British accent then the movie itself.

I just know that whenever I hear The Macarena....I will think of The Guru. And smile.

Dancing Queen

My mother loves to dance. She used to drag my brother around the living room floor trying to teach him "how to be a gentleman," demonstrating with my grandfather, her dad.

When I was 8, we moved into a new house across the country from our old house. My dad was promoted at work, but he would have been promoted had we stayed, too. So the move has never really been explained. When we moved, my grandparents moved in with us. I'm not sure why my dad thought living with his in-laws would be a good idea, but he agreed to it. My parents thought it would be good for them (my grandparents) and good for us (the kids).

Oddly enough, my mom's one of the last people you'd expect to think that this was a good idea. She and my grandmother have never gotten on all that well.

All of which is beside the point. We moved. My dad bought a piano and lessons were declared mandatory for the children. My mother joined us in lessons for the first year and then gave up. My grandmother, however, plays by ear. Any 1930-40s standard is in her repertoire, but because the melody's accompaniment is all hand trickery, they all sound much the same.

On Sundays, after dinner, she would play. Sometimes we would, as a family, join her to listen. My mother would dance. She would tell us how she and her two sisters saved their allowance for weeks to buy a set of those paper dance-teacher feet -- the ones you lay on the floor so that you can learn all the dance steps. She would talk of borrowing crinnolines from friends to "poof" your skirt bigger to go to dances in the 1950s. She would tell us about the church fundraiser talent show at which she performed the Charleston (my father apparently played the baby Chastity Bono for a Sonny-and-Cher performance....).

So I liked dancing. Dancing led to stories. As for the action, for me it is much like any other physical activity: I'm not all that coordinated and don't do it well.

I took ballet at age 6. The recital costumes were pink and blue with silver sequins. There are pictures somewhere. In 7th grade, my mother was guilted into signing me up for cotillion. For those of you not from the South, this is the three years of dancing lessons that prepare girls for their coming out parties. It meant gloves. At 12. And dancing. With boys. Which was humiliating in so many ways. No one explained the debutante thing to my mother -- she just thought dancing would be fun. In college (besides another stint at ballet for a PE credit), I discovered dance clubs, swing dancing, and line dancing. I am not good at any of them. But the benefit of dance clubs is that everyone there is drinking and not noticing that you cannot dance.

I made the mistake of telling my mother about line dancing, which I find fun mainly because it's incredibly ridiculous and (for uncoordinated me) impossible. She thought it sounded like a great idea.

So one night, mid-1990s, my midwestern mother dragged my midwestern father to a country western bar in the southeast. And learned to line dance.

The next weekend I was home from college, my mother showed off what she had learned:

The Marcarena.

(You knew I'd get to the point eventually, right?)

Piss me off, Make me laugh.

The whole Spanish influx pisses me off. Yes, it's my right. I should NOT have to press one to hear things in English. I should NOT have to see Spanish only billboards. You're in NORTH AMERICA people, speak ENGLISH.

That being said, this song makes me laugh. When it first came out, we has Christmas at my brother's house. His boys were all there, my daughter of course, our parents, my other brother & wifey, & the first's girlfriend's whole family. Everything was videotaped - from the little kids falling off of the blow-up Tiggers, to an agonizingly long, yet hilarious version of The 12 Days of Christmas (Cooth, picture MY DAD doing "5 golden rings" over and over.......and over. and over. WITH the Tugfrown, yet smiling. Get the picture?) And my nephew........YOUNG, probably about 3 years old at the time, with a cute little girl from the other family...doing the macarena. And they thought they ROCKED. They were ON STAGE. We bring the video out EVERDAMN Christmas........I ignore most of it, busying myself with ANYTHING, but always have to watch the Macarena. And give the now 10 year old nephew hell about how CUTE he is there.......patting himself on the butt. Nephew, can you do it for me now puleeeeeze? In between studly moments of baseball, football, MANLY stuff?

The Macarena

What to write about a song that is done by badly dancing drunk people at a wedding? This song isn't the worse wedding song, but it’s my favorite. Where The Electric Slide and The Chicken Dance are also high on the drunk people dancing songs, they’re just in a lesser category. While I do hate Macarana, I have to say that it has it's place in society. What good would a wedding with the not-quite-virginal-bride-in-white and scared-as-shit-groom-in-a-tux-he-was-forced-to wear BE without The Macarena? Don't we all love to see Aunt Mary get up and rumble that tuckus in a 90 degree turn? Or Great Uncle Joe who smells a lot like chewed up cigars looking like a cast off from Madonna's Vogue.

The Electric Slide and The Chicken Dance are good for sweet looking not-quite-angelic children dancing on their cousins shoes. Only The Macarana can get your grandmother, 2 chardoney's in, onto the dance floor.

PS: If this post makes any sense to you I'll be very happy because it doesn't really make sense to me.

The Maybe Non-Musical Challenge

Cathy and I are going to add this to the weekend To Do list. It's way more fun than mowing the lawn. Results posted sometime next week.

And the #1 Song is.........

The Macarena by Los Del Rios.

And then my reign as song title picker is over. Kt takes over that dubious honor next month.

A la tuhuelpa legria macarena

Que tuhuelce paralla legria cosabuena

A la tuhuelpa legria macarena

Eeeh, macarena A-HAI!

Good news, Bad news.

The good news is, I have had good love.
The bad news is, I know this because I have had tainted love to compare it to.

The good news is, the tainted love is in my past.
The bad news is, there could always be more.

The good news is, I'm willing to take that chance and love again.
The bad news is, I'm willing to take that chance and love again. It could be tainted again.

I choose to believe that I have learned from the past, and grown in many ways since then. I have come to like myself, and stick up for myself. So the good news is, I will not settle for tainted love again. I may find it, I may not, but that's OK. I'm willing to take the chance - and should I find bad love, I will move on and be all right. Should I find good love? You will ALL hear about it - whether it be me shouting from the rooftops or through the bedroom wall, you will ALL hear. ;-)

P.S.....I TOTALLY FORGOT! My horoscope said that I would meet my soul mate this week! That's the good news. The bad news is.........it's already Wednesday. I'm pushing my luck. And it's just a horoscope. k, now I'm really done.

Tainted Love (with regards to Rush)

For me, the point at which Romantic Love becomes tainted is easy to identify: The first conversation you have about the long-term after you've realized that this is likely not the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your life.

Is that moment unique to me?

The first few months of a relationship are somewhat blissful -- you are in a mode of discovery. Everything is new. Everything is exciting. Anticipation is the most blissful part of life at this stage.

You think that there is "a ghost of a chance we can find someone to love......and make it last." And you begin to dream of the future.

At some point, with most relationships, you realize that this "making it last," in this case, isn't going to happen. The "cold fire" of failed love is starting to burn, and from that point on, the love is tainted.

Even if both parties agree that The Relationship is good for the moment, once one of you has decided it to be not forever, the love, such as it is, is tainted. It is ending, because it is lopsided, or soon will become lopsided, and it can no longer be true to itself.

I know "how complicated women are." Men are, too. And love is more so, as it mixes the complications. But that ghost of a chance? It trumps the common sense that would otherwise keep us from bothering to try again and risk the phosphorescent wave on a tropical sea.




(May I offer, in my defense, that I was, at a young and impressionable age, wooed with the best of Rush? Okay. I know. No defense. The Canadian rock group has, maybe, outlived its relevance. They still have some good songs in their middle period, though.) Oh, and spell-check is down, so excuse any typos.

Taint - to affect with putrefaction

or

to contaminate morally

or

the area between a man's beans and his poop shoot.

Any definition you use? A woman with any sense is out of there. right? Only? That last sentence is a bit of an oxymoron, don't you think?

It's funny, looking back at a lot of my relationships and looking at a lot of my friends relationships, I can honestly say that "commonsense" isn't a word I'd use, with the exception of "she has none". Relationships that are good for us, and that are... oh, what's that word? HEALTHY. They just don't seem to impress young 20-something women. We get bored. We get tired. We're worse then men. Seriously.

Now, give us a bad guy; one with a motorcycle and a couple of ex-wives. And Tattoos. We love tattoos. A regular neighborhood bar in which everyone knows his name? Dude, we're hooked. We're SO there.

And really? It's sad. The good news is that eventually we do outgrow this stage, or at least most of us do. We remove our heads from our posteriors. We get our act together. We start going to bed at 10 and having a regular cleaning day and we start to get it. We get that what we really want is to be happy and healthy and secure, regardless of whether it's with someone else or just with ourselves. We stop making the obviously-stupid-choice (at least to others) and start making the smart choice. And eventually? We will at least become happy with ourselves.

Who needs tainted love anyway?

Tainted Love

Once upon a time, I decided to venture into the world of on-line dating and actually met someone that wanted to date me. He was in the service, a native of my town and coming home for the holidays to visit his mother. He sent me an e-mail telling me I had a nice smile and wondering if I would like to go to a movie with him. I replied that I wanted to know a little more about him because I don’t go out with complete strangers. Even though most of the men I date are completely strange.

Well, we met at a bar the day he got to town and went to a movie. We hit it off right away. He was nice, fun, somewhat attractive. I could tell he was someone I would enjoy hanging out with, but not someone that was going to be forever. Anyway, the rest of his visit here, we spent a lot of time together. And then he went back to his normal life. I went back to mine. We exchanged e-mails and a few phone calls over the next few months and then, he came back again. This time to move his mother from the family home into an assisted-living center. Again, we hung out, had some fun - oh and did I mention that the sex was pretty damn good? It was.

Anyway, the time arrived when he had to go back again, and he was taking the train. So, the evening before his train left, I gave him a ride to the town where the train departed from. We had some dinner, met up with one of his friends from high school, drank too much and went back to the motel and had some damn good sex.

His train left at 9, we were up at 6. I figured we had time for another round of damn good sex. But he didn’t want to. His penis hurt. What the fuck? I had never heard of that excuse, ever. I couldn’t recall anything we had done the night before that would cause a penis injury. Okay, whatever.

So we fall back into our regular routine of e-mailing and calling. The calls stopped after he called and begged me to come to see him. I have a teenager from hell living with me and two jobs. I cannot leave at the drop of a hat. The e-mails continued for awhile. Then he told me he was coming for another visit and wanted to go canoeing. Sounds fun, so I agree. We pick a weekend to do this. I get my schedule rearranged. He never shows up, never calls. He did try to IM me a few months later, but sorry dude. Done with you.

Well, now, he’s out of the service and back living here. I saw him one morning working at a store I go to frequently, but I looked like shit, so didn’t say hello; even though I stared at him for a solid minute trying to figure out for sure if it was him and what the hell he was doing there. After that encounter, I decided I should probably say hello to him the next time I saw him. I even toyed with the idea of having him over for dinner and damn good sex. But, I just can’t get past the fact that I caused him a penis injury. And therefore, I can’t even speak to him. Tainted Love.

Finally, an easy one....

The #2 One Hit Wonder is "Tainted Love" by Soft Cell. I think everybody should have at least one good story to blog next week! I know I do.....

"....at this moment...."

Never much of one for words like "fate," "destiny," or "forever," I think there's something honest when the singer admits to Eileen that "at this moment, you mean everything..."

What more can a girl ask for? Promises of eternity, undying love, a white pickett fence with 2.5 little Eileens? A dog?

You're right, Meg, it's not romantic. But it's truthful. And really, how much high school or early college sex is really all that romantic?

Luckily? There is life after high school and college is a springboard to bigger and better things.

I'm Stumped.

What do you say about this song that hasn't been said in the previous 2 posts. hmmm. We have a customer named Eileen. She's nice. I've never met her, but spoken to her on the phone, & she's nice. There. I'm done. that was fun. whoooeeee let the good times roll. SO ANYWAY, being the bored with no life person that I am (AND NOT SMOKING SO THE HANDS MUST BE KEPT BUSY).....I looked up Dexy's Midnight Runners on the web. This is what I found. They're from Sweden (hi Mark!). I didn't know that. Lead singer? Kev. One of my favorite all time people was Kev. He (not my fave person sillies) now sings with the Killers. One of my fave alltime dogs was Killer. He (not my fave dog weirdos) likes Van Morrison's music. I like Van Morrison's music. But sometimes I think it's Jimmy Buffet's music because I'm so musically/ artist challenged since the time of the 45's. I am grandma, hear me roar. And not to change the subject or anything, but Gavin DeGraw was in the audience of American Idol tonight. I'd never heard of him until my brother sent me a mix tape & he was on there. I like Gavin. Paula, & her tears, however, make me want to puke. Pop some more pills, take a big swig, let's move on. and she re-signed, she'll be back. What's up with all the people calling for Chris getting Kat's voice thanking them for voting for her??? Go Taylor, just so Meg can make $40. Otherwise I don't care. But there are things I like & have a comfort zone with regarding Dexy's. So there ya' go. that's all I have. you may go now........... ;-)

Come on Eileen

I swear; What I mean.

The check is in the mail; tomorrow’s mail.
I’ll love you forever; or at least until we get redressed.
I’m separated, too; my wife & kids are at home and I’m out partying.
You were great honey; now roll over and go to sleep so I can get busy with my vibrator.
Of course they are real; real silicone.
I’m staying at a friend’s house tonight; my friend isn’t home.
You look great!; Compared to roadkill.
I'll call you later; Sometime before I die.
You all are so creative; But we are doing it my way.

It's Monday and my brain isn't functioning all that well; I don't feel like thinking. Please feel free to add more to the comments, I probably will; but nothing funnier than mine.

The song that so isn't Paradise by the Dashboard Lights

Okay, if you're going to write a song about trying to get a chick to put out? Seriously? Come on Eileen sucks.

" Come on Eileen, I swear, well he means
Ah come on let's take off everything,
That pretty red dress Eileen (Tell him yes)
Ah come on let's, ah come on Eileen, please."

Okay, there's no jewelry? There's no dinner? Not even a lame-ass promise of marriage? Just... please? Oh, and I guess there's a half assed compliment in the comment about the dress, but the dude isn't even complimenting EILEEN!

Now Meatloafs Paradise? Hell, even I'D put out after that song!

" These people round here wear beaten down eyes
Sunk in smoke dried faces they're so resigned to what their fate is,
But not us, no not us we are far too young and clever.
Remember Toora Loora Toora Loo-Rye-Aye
Eileen I'll hum this tune forever. "

But? It does sound like the night of the living dead, so maybe it's Eileen's best offer.

OOOH...I love this song

Next week's title is Come on Eileen by Dexy's Midnight Runners.

No dirty jokes, please! :o)

I'm to sexy for my sweatpants

I know, I suck. I randomly pop in and out but I SWEAR I was going to post this last weekend. Instead? I've had a fever and have been sleeping 20 hours a day.

So this is what I have to say:
I'm too sexy for my sweatpants
I'm too sexy for my United Way tshirt that I haven't managed to change in 2 days
I'm too sexy for my pile of snotty tissues
I'm too sexy for my dirty dishes piled in the sink
I'm too sexy for my Nyquil
I'm too sexy for a shower
I'm not too sexy for Keifer Sutherland because what I HAVE been doing during my waking hours is watching season 1 of 24 on DVR.

K. Duty done. You've all got a wonderfully healthy picture in your heads and I'm going back to bed and to Keifer.

Promise to do better next time.

PS: I'm running out of food and the only things left to drink are coke and this nasty grape stuff that tastes like Dymatap, so if anyone wants to bring me sustenance I'll be forever grateful.

PSS: Or is it PPS:? Whatever. Now I've forgotten. Damned Nyquil.

I'm too sexy

A picture is worth a thousand words.

Me, circa 1974.

I think it's the hat that makes the sexiness.

I am Woman

This is my I am Woman Anthem.

I am too sexy to waste my time on guys and relationships I'm not all that interested in.
I am too sexy to have bad sex and not do anything to change it.
I am too sexy to wait for SOMEONE ELSE to make things happen in my life.
I am too sexy not to own whatever toys I want. Even if they're power tools.

I am WAY too sexy for that sweater I wore on Halloween.
I am too sexy for that plaid jumper I used to wear out clubbing in college.
I am too sexy not to wear body glitter whenever the mood strikes me.
I am too sexy not to wear a tiara while vacuuming the house.

I am too sexy to wear a bra for movie nights.

I am too sexy to be the crazy cat lady. So I am the crazy cat lady who has a career (and is a TV star.... or not).

I'm too sexy to take out the trash and clean up the yard, but I do it anyway.
I am way too sexy to do laundry. I'm thinking of becoming a nudist instead.

I am too sexy to hate who I am or how I look.

I am too sexy to waste my life thinking about how sexy I am.

I AM too sexy. for you....& you.....& you......

I’m HOT. I’m ALL THAT. I am 5’7” tall, 105 pounds, TIGHT. Blonde hair, blue eyes, legs for MILES, 34 DD and a size 2. Everywhere I go, I turn heads of men AND women. You want me, and you wish I were on your arm to be your “eye candy”. I can dress to impress in a business setting, black tie affair, or I can throw on shorts & a tank or bikini. and people stop. and look. My dazzling white smile puts everyone – men AND women - at ease, and my laugh makes everyone laugh. My sense of humor ROCKS. I’m intelligent, and can hold a conversation with anyone. Comfortably. I love sports, and can easily tell you the stats of anyone from Derek Jeter to Jake Plummer to Tiger Woods. I can hold my own on the pool table, at the bar, or on the course, and make the BEST nachos & wings for game night in. Your parents would LOVE me. I’m in no hurry to marry, and have never heard my biological clock “ticking”.

***beep beep beep***

oops, there goes my alarm. Time to wake up. and puke.

I may actually be stumped

Next week.....I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred. This will be tough.....

What a pity you don’t understand.

I went to Disney World when I was 9.
I didn't get it.
The lines were long, it was hot, some of the rides weren't worth the wait, my father's curse of the cable cars got us stranded over Cinderella's Castle for half an hour (I have not been on a cable car since, for fear that the curse is now mine), and we weren't able to go swimming.
I don't mean I hated it. But neither me nor my brother ever asked to go back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I had never read the lyrics to this song before. It always seemed such a peppy song about a hot guy in school or something. It's a little more sinister than that.

“You think you’ve got the right, but I think you’ve got it wrong?”
“‘cause when you say you will/ it always means you won’t./ You’re givin’ me the chills.”
“Anyway you want to do it/ I’ll take it like a man/ But please baby, please, don’t leave me in this jam.”

Mickey was definitely one of the guys your parents warned you about.

But here’s my question – why do parents warn their daughters about boys but never tell their sons how to treat a girl or warn them?

Growing up a girl in the 1980s and ‘90s meant a lot of mixed messages. The sexual revolution of the 1960s was long over and yet still resonates throughout pop culture – girls are supposed to want “it” and be boldly sexual. But the 1950s morality – girls are supposed to be “good” and they are the ones who must stop boys from acting on their baser animal instincts – is also still in force. And then there were the ‘80s shoulder pads and power suits – business women on the rise, eating men for breakfast (and not the way men wished they would). The ‘90s, with their grunge, supposedly made us all equal in our baggy plaid flannel. Add in some Catholic celibate morality, and you have a morass that would keep down the most willful of women.

Most high school kids have sex. I forget what the figure is, but more than half of them “do it” before they graduate. Sex in high school is a sticky wicket if ever there were one. No one knows what they’re doing, but I personally think guys have an easier time of it, at least in the physical sense. Hear me out. Guy equipment is pretty straightforward; hell, it stands up and pretty much tells you what to do with it. Girl equipment is a little less forward. So coming into the supposedly defining moment of The First Time? At least guys know what gives them pleasure and how to attain it. Beyond that, they aren’t told, in the Big Brother voice of society, to feel guilt over sex (unless they’re Catholic). Guys who have sex are lauded for it. Girls are called sluts.

I spent my later 1990s primarily In the Company of Women, and watched us bandy these mixed messages about internally. We confuse ourselves as much as anyone. The general consensus among us is that yes, we are to enjoy sex and be “liberated.” Liberated should mean that we do what pleases ourselves and, if we are with someone, our partners. The focus often seems to be on the partner, though. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t occasionally done something he or she didn’t want to because a loved one requested it. But when that happens more often than not, when the focus is on keep a partner satisfied at the expense of self, a power imbalance is created.

Whose fault is that, though? From infomal polls I’ve done (and the even less-formal ones Susan is always conducting), people don’t talk about sex – TALK about it, not joke or make stories out of it – nearly enough. As a country, we’re obsessed with sex, but we don’t know how to talk about it.

Does that mean that when it's my month, I can choose "let's talk about sex" as a title???

You're right Cooth, it's a MkThing. I had a good boss once......he took his fam to Disneyland. He knew I've had a Mick thing forEVER. The thing about Mickey is he makes SO many people smile-happy every.damn.day. SO many. And HE'S always smiling. So my boss went to Disneyland with his wife & 2 kids. GREAT family. My boss LIED TO MICKEY. For me. awwww. He told Mickey that his "other child" had the flu & couldn't make the trip, could Mick please pose with this sign? Mick, of course, obliged. Mick probably thinks Joe is a terrible person because he brought 2 kids to Disneyland & left the other one with the "flu" at home. I don't care. So boss Joe came back from Disneyland, life went on. About a week later, he called me into his office - VERY serious. I'm in trouble (he wanted me to think). He tried very hard to be all boss-serious......then turned around & handed me this picture & told me the story. He was a phenomenal boss. He moved on......& I followed him (he's a restaurant manager, I'd take friends to eat & have drinks - it wasn't psycho following). We still exchange Christmas cards. We would even without the MkMoment, but it was awesome that he did this.

I've collected Mick over the years, because he is "so fine he blows my mind". Just this year I boxed up all my collectables, and I will eventually take them all out, take pictures, & sell them on e-bay. K doesn't want them, & I don't want her to eventually have to deal with it all. I'll take the time to make 'some' money on them, put it in the kids' bank accounts or something....she may be rushed & sell them cheap. I don't know, I just don't want her to have to deal so will do what I can to help now, when I can.

Mick, thanks for the memories. And smiles. Joe, I'll chat again at Christmas, we'll catch up.

Mickey

How can one sing of Mickey and NOT think of Mickey Mouse? Is it possible? In April of 1991, my son and I took a trip to California. And Mickey was involved.

It was one of those rare occasions that airfares were low and I had some extra cash, so we booked our airfare to L.A. Luckily, my favorite aunt lives about 40 minutes out of L.A., so we had accommodations and tour guides. It was an awesome trip. Leaving North Dakota in early April for a warmer clime is always a treat, and seeing my aunt and her family is always great.

Our flight to L.A. was the first time my son had flown. I am not a great flyer, I will admit. I’m okay once the plane has taken off and don’t start freaking out again until it is time to land. Our flight had a stop over in Salt Lake. As we are getting ready to take off from there, my cute adorable 3 year-old son says, "Let’s hold hands again and see if we can get all sweaty." And then he promptly fell asleep, so I had no one to hold my sweaty palm on take off.

We did all kinds of touristy things while out there. And my son got to celebrate his 4th birthday at the Los Angeles Zoo. And I got to see Jack from The Young and the Restless there. Wow - this small town girl seeing someone famous. I would have loved to have gone over and said hello to him, but about the time I worked up the nerve, Tb was throwing a hissy fit. So, I skipped it. Oh, and the zoo was fantastic. After the zoo, we went to Chucky Cheese for a birthday party. It was our first time to a Chucky Cheese.

We spent a day at the ocean. Tb wasn’t too sure about that. He has never been afraid of water, but I think it was pretty loud that day and he didn’t quite get that. We did put my feet and his hands in there (not all that warm in April) but had to be done. We saw lots of really nice, expensive boats. Ah, to be rich.

The highlight of our trip had to be Disneyland. I absolutely loved that. It was a perfect day. Some might even say magical. I know that a lot of people think it’s all a bunch of hype and just a way to suck money from the masses. But, I had a blast. I don’t care. And, if given the opportunity, I would go again. So there. Maybe someday, many years from now, I can take my son and his kids. That would be another great vacation.