Spontaneity is the Spice of Life

One of the pitfalls of living in Celebration, i.e. within spitting distance of Disney World, is that you don't visit the theme parks nearly as much as you'd think. When you move into town, eyes wide with wonder and pixie dust and brain reeling with the fact that Mickey Mouse is your neighbor, you tend to vow, "I'll be at the Magic Kingdom nearly every day!"

But something so close tends to be neglected as the rhythm of everyday life and responsibility takes hold. Now, I'm lucky if I get over to the theme parks once a month (although hubby and I usually make it to the restaurants more frequently).

Last night, inbetween my work, I was perusing a Disney World website. Reading about the parks soon sparked a tugging at my heart. Here I was, sitting eight miles from the Magic Kingdom toll plaza. Unlike most of the people posting on the forum I was reading, I could partake of the magic virtually any time I choose. I began to feel a longing that I knew wasn't going to disappear until I'd had my WDW fix.

I still had plenty of work to do, but one of the advantages of working from home is that you can take a little break (even tho' you pay for it later by working till 1 a.m.). I hollered upstairs to hubby, "Hey, want to go to the Magic Kingdom tonight?" For him, there's only one answer to that question, so shortly thereafter we were piled into the Family Truckster and heading down World Drive.

I wasn't sure how bad the crowds would be, but from the looks of the parking lot, I figured they were relatively minimal. It was already after 7, so a goodly chunk of exhausted guests had already bailed for home. While I enjoy visiting Disney at any time of the day, nighttime is particularly special. There's nothing like the sight of the castle, bathed in colored lights and sillouhetted against the black velvet sky, to spark a sense of wonder and magic.

We took the ferryboat over, and I admired the view of the three monorail resorts (the Polynesian, Contemporary, and Grand Floridian). For me, they will always be the icons of Disney World, no matter how many additional hotels are built. When I made my first trip, they were the only three hotels (not counting Downtown Disney), and the Swan and Dolphin were under construction. Now, in no particular order, there is Boardwalk, the Yacht and Beach Clubs, Port Orleans and PO Riverside, Saratoga Springs, Coronado Springs, Caribbean Beach, Pop Century, the three All-Stars, Wilderness Lodge, Animal Kingdom Lodge, and whatever else I may have forgotten.

Over the years, we've stayed in most of the others, and I dearly love the Wilderness Lodge, but the Contemporary will always hold a special place in my heart because it was my first Disney World hotel. It sparkled like a jewel with pinpoints of light punctuating the A-framed structure in the distance. The Poly and Floridian sat on the banks of the lake, giving off a homey, inviting glow to the boatloads of weary tourists heading back from a long day at the Magic Kingdom.

There were only a handful of stragglers aboard the ferryboat with us, and no lines to get into the park. Despite the moderate crowd, I did cringe at the sudden realization that there was some sort of cheerleading event going on. The majority of the humanity surrounding us was blonde, perky, tall, teenaged, and skinny to the point of bullemia. If you had hollered, "Hey, Buffy!", 100 pony-tailed pom-pom bearers would undoubtedly have yelled, "What?!"

I've read many stories of the Cheerleading Hoardes disrupting pre-shows with cult-like chants and performing spontaneous acrobatics on Main Street, but thankfully we were spared any such antics. Actually, we had to perform some acrobatics of our own, as we arrived just in time for the Spectromagic parade. Trying to make any headway into the park at parade time is like trying to swim backwards through a pit of quicksand while wearing a 50 lb. lead swimsuit.

We managed to make our way to Adventureland, where hubby was eager to gain his first taste of the new and improved Pirates of the Caribbean. I heartily approve of the new ride, since it features three guest appearances by an Audioanimatronic Johnny Depp (and the waterfall effect is very cool, too).

There was no wait, so we breezed through the queue line and right onto a boat for our trip through the pillaged village. Afterwards, we decided to see if the line for Big Thunder Mountain was manageable. It was only 20 minutes...a bit long for my taste, but worth it for a night ride. BTM is fun at any time of the day, but the lighting makes it a special treat after dark.

Little did I know that we were in for a special treat. Just as we boarded the runaway mine train and headed out onto the tracks, the Wishes fireworks display kicked off. It was a little taste of Heaven to barrel around the mountain while the sky above lit up with a panoply of multi-colored explosions.

There was only one small problem...I have hyperacusis, and noises at a certain pitch cause me pain. Unfortunately, fireworks are right at that pitch. I solved the problem as I normally do, by clamping my hands firmly over my ears. But that meant that I wasn't holding on, so I was pitched back and forth like a ship weathering the stormy seas. It added quite an interesting aspect to the ride!

At the end, we hurried to the exit to watch the rest of the fireworks show. Then we headed off to the Jungle Cruise, which was walk-on, and ended our day at the Haunted Mansion after a quick stop for a Dole Whip. We hiked over to Tomorrowland, but we didn't have quite enough time to slip in a ride on Space Mountain. I didn't mind too much, as I love visiting Tomorrowland at night just for the lights and decor. Much of it is a retro-futuristic Art Deco style, and there are multi-colored lights everywhere. It's my favorite area of the park at night; I love to ride Wedway (or whatever they call it these days) just to revel in the scenery below.

As we took the ferryboat back to the parking lot, there was one more piece of magic in store. It was time for the nightly water parade! We hurried up to the top deck and enjoyed the lighted "floats" as they danced and changed to the bubbly music. As I leaned on the rail, watching the light show below, I reminded myself that spontaneity is the spice of life. Sure, it's important to attend to responsibilities, but you have to break free every once in awhile. That little two-hour Disney fix was more energizing than a hundred cups of coffee (and much better for my soul!). I am one of the very lucky people who lives next door to Mickey...I never want to take that for granted. Life is meant to be enjoyed, and spontaneous enjoyment is all the more fun.

The Way an Annual Pass Should Be

Living in Celebration, literally next door to Disney World, it's easy to forget that there are other theme parks in Orlando. My husband and I do tend to venture over to Universal Studios Florida/Islands of Adventure every now and then, but one of the Disney parks usually wins out because of the convenience factor. We have annual passes for both theme park complexes, but when we weigh a short jaunt down World Drive vs. a nerve-racking NASCAR experience on I-4, the Mouse usually wins.

This year, we purchased "two years for the price of one" USF/IOA passes via a special promotion. That was back in September, but we finally got around to activating them this past weekend. Normally, they would get stashed in our wallets and forgotten for a few months, until I decide that I need a ride on Hulk or Spiderman, but my husband chanced across some information on the USF/IOA AP website that ratched them up several notches in my theme park estimation.

Universal has introduced something called a Premier Annual Pass, which includes a very valuable benefit: Express Access to all of the rides and shows at both parks after 4 p.m. every day. Sweeeeeeeet! USF/IOA already offers that perk to guests of their onsite hotels, and those lucky saps get it all day, from park opening to closing. They also sell a one-day Express Access pass, but it's only good once on each ride.

The Premier Pass strikes a perfect balance...while it would be nice to have all-day front-of-the-line access (or nearly so...Express Access waits run anywhere from zero to 10 minutes on average, depending on the crown density), I have no problem with getting to the parks at 4. CityWalk (Universal's answer to Downtown Disney/Pleasure Island) has a plethora of wonderful restaurants, from Bubba Gump's to Margaritaville. Most of them are open early, so I figure hubby and I will enjoy a late lunch/early dinner around 2:30 before heading over to the theme parks. Their hours of operation vary by the season, but even if it's only until 6 or 7, traipsing to the front of all the lines means you can accomplish just as much in a short timeframe as you would all day if you had to wait at least half and hour a pop (and much longer than that in the summer).

For example, on the day that we upgraded our passes to the Premier version, we rode the Mummy roller coaster 8 time, Men in Black, 3 times, saw Twister, and rode Jaws, E.T. and Back to the Future all in the space of three hours. The park was only moderately crowded, with standby waits between 20 and 40 minutes, but it was such a treat to bypass the hoi polloi and traipse through the special entrance, waving our passes like a talisman of privilege. Like Fast Passes at Disney, Universal has two checkpoints for its Express Access entrances where you have to show your hotel key, Premier Pass, or one-per-ride ticket. I was amazed at the number of people who snuck by the first checker and who thought they had it made, only to be turned away just as they reached the inner sanctum.

I don't think many people have the Premier Passes yet because most of the "gatekeepers" gave them a pretty thorough going-over, and one actually said that this was the first time he'd encountered one. I'm surprised...apparently they have been available since September, and I'd think they would have been popular with locals over the insanely busy Christmas season.

During the summer, I avoid the Disney theme parks like the plague, other than an occasional people-watching jaunt. Disney has Fast Pass, which I am quite adept at using to my advantage. But in the peak season, it's virtually impossible to work them in a convenient manner unless you're staying all day. Fast Pass works by assigning you a return time for a particular attraction. For example, let's say it's 9 a.m. and you want to ride Soarin', but the standby line is already an hour. You check out the Fast Pass distribution machines and discover that if you get one, you can return to ride it with a minimal wait between 11 and noon. Kill two hours riding red-haired stepchild attractions that never have a line, then return, buzz through the FP queue in mere minutes (snickering to yourself as you notice that the poor standby saps are now dealing with a posted 120 minute wait time), and enjoy your handglider trip over rivers, mountains, orange groves, and golf courses.

Problem is, you can only hold a Fast Pass for one attraction at a time. No getting another one until you reach the "start time" of your current one. If it's a particularly busy day, all the FPs at the most popular attractions might well be gone by that time.

Also, it takes a lot of coordination and difficult choices. At Disney-MGM, it's pretty easy...the only must-do ride for me is Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, although hubby often begs for Rockin' Roller Coaster. At Animal Kingdom, I usually opt for Kilimanjaro because I can use the single rider line on Everest. At Epcot, it's a no-brainer (Soarin', of course). But at Magic Kingdom, it's always a toss-up: Do I want a FP for Buzz Lightyear? Space Mountain? Jungle Cruise? Big Thunder Mountain? Arrrghhhhh!!! Too many options!

At USF/IOA, I don't have to worry about making any choices. Just arrive in the late afternoon and ride whatever I want, whenever I want, as much as I want. Theme park heaven!

USF has quite a few good rides and shows, but I imagine that I'll focus most of my efforts on The Mummy. The easiest way to describe it is a combination dark ride/roller coaster, but that doesn't do it justice. It has the coolest fire effects ever, plus air time that will have your butt levitating over the seat as you plunge down hills in the darkness. It's was Everest could be if Disney dared to put in a real thrill ride. I won't even compare it to the snore-fest called Rockin' Roller Coaster. Even though it doesn't go upside down, Mummy is what an enclosed roller coaster should be.

Still, it's nice to know that I can ride anything in the park. At Disney, not all of the rides even offer Fast Passes. At USF/IOA, there is an Express Access entrance for every ride, plus the shows too. At USF, I enjoy Men In Black, a souped-up version of Disney's Buzz Lightyear shoot fest, but I can't ride it too often because it tosses in some fairly intense spinning. Unless I have a high blood sugar content, spinning gives me a whanging headache.

I can't take too much of Back to the Future either...it doesn't spin (it's a motion simulator), but for some reason it gets to my head much in the same way that Body Wars at Epcot has always made me queazy. I can ride Star Tours with no ill effects, but Body Wars is a puker for me, and Back to the Future is the same. I like to ride it once...and only once...a day.

I like the E.T. dark ride, even though it's mainly aimed at the kiddies, and Jaws is corny but I still like to give it a go. I love Twister (more of a show than a ride), and the Terminator 3-D show is the best!! I usually check out the animal show, too, and although I haven't seen Fear Factor yet, that will probably enter the rotation. I am neutral on the Shrek 3-D show and the Johnny Neutron simulator...I guess they're worth it if there is no wait, but time wasted on them is time that could be better spent on The Mummy.

At Islands of Adventure, there are two places to concentrate my attention: the Hulk roller coaster and Spiderman, an incredibly innovative combination dark ride/simulator. I've ridden dozens of roller coasters in my day, since I'm married to a coaster enthusiast, and Hulk is among my top three all-time favorites (the others are Magnum at Cedar Point and Batman at Six Flags Great America). The thing that wins me over is the fact that you are blasted up the lift hill and right into a heartline spin before you shoot through a traditional loop. I love being upside down, and Hulk whips me head over heels right from the start of the ride.

Spiderman is great because there is nothing else like it. Normally, I would expect that sort of innovation from Disney, but IOA really has them beat with Spidey. They have some other good rides, like Dueling Dragons (twin suspended coasters), Dr. Doom (a freefall) and Jurassic Park (a water ride), but I know where I will be concentrating my efforts.

The Premier Pass also has some other cool (and occasionally perplexing) benefits, from free valet parking to free Halloween Horror Nights passes to eight free bottles of water (?!). At Usf/IOA, the valet parking is nearly as valuble as the line-cutting. If you're never been there, imagine the length of the walk from the Ticket and Transportation Center parking lot to the Magic Kingdom transportation...and triple it!! Epcot may stand for "Every person comes out tired," but the Universal complex should be called Epcit (Every person comes in tired). Valet shortens the walk by a third.

Usually I dread the coming of Spring Break, with summer hot on its heels, because it means the end of my theme parking. This year, I don't have to worry...sure, the drive might be a little longer, but riding without a wait will make up for the drive time and then some. Now, if they would only sell an Express Pass for I-4, my world would be complete.

Perfect Timing

My Christmas Eve was one of those rare instances of perfect timing, when everything falls into place. It was something I never could have planned; it just turned out that way on its own. I had tried to plan it out as closely as possible...I booked 7:30 p.m. reservations at California Grill, the restaurant on top of Disney's Contemporary Resort. The Magic Kingdom fireworks were scheduled for 9 p.m., so there was a small possibility that we'd be done eating by then; otherwise, we'd have to interrupt our meal to see them. Not the best option, but I'll make the sacrifice of cold food to see Holiday Wishes.

We planned to attend the 11 p.m. service at Community Presbyterian Church, so my mind weighed just how early we'd arrive. It looked like we'd probably have to swing home first because we'd probably be back in Celebration by 10, and I didn't want to sit around the church for an hour. It was a delicate balance, though, as last year the church had been so crowded for the last-night that we barely found a seat in the main sanctuary.

As we trundled off to the Contemporary, the heavens let loose with a vicious rain shower. We decided to use the valet parking that's available for free to Disney Dining Experience members (the DDE card is something you can purchase to receive discounts on Disney World meals). As we zipped down World Drive in the Family Truckster, I watched lightning flash behind the clouds in God's own version of a holiday fireworks show. We dropped the car off with the valet and headed into the very first hotel that I ever stayed on on Disney property.

Because it was my first, the Contemporary holds a special place in my heart. Granted, it's not obviously themed like the other properties, but it still has an ambiance all its own. I feel it the moment I step inside, as the hotel has its own smell. I know that might sound odd, but it really does, and I'd recognize it blindfolded (the Wilderness Lodge does, too). The monorail runs right through the hotel...how cool is that?! I love the Grand Canyon Concourse, a shopping and dining area; as you browse through the stores, you can hear the monorail rumbling overhead.

The hotel was packed with holiday revelers; we made our way through them like salmon struggling upstream and checked in at the downstairs podium for our California Grill reservations. On the way, I noticed all sorts of neat little holiday touches: Santa on a throne, visiting with the kiddies, a life-size scene from Pinochio carved out of chocolate, a group of carolers, and Christmas trees everwhere.

You are not allowed to go up to the restaurant, which is located on the top floor, unless you have reservations. The common, non-dining hoi polli are banned from its expansive views of the Magic Kingdom and the lake, and they cannot watch the fireworks from its viewing platforms. Thankfully, we were on the list, so we were allowed to descend to the Contemporary's lofty, well-guarded heights.

We requested a window seat (a real treat, given the panoramic view from 15 stories up) and were told it would be 20 to 25 minutes longer. We figured that was fine, since we didn't want to be too early for church. We headed upstairs and found a table and chairs in the lounge where we could relax until our beeper summoned us to a fine dining experience.

To kill time, I requested a copy of the menu. I was given a sheaf of papers containing everything from the main menu to the cheese selection to both the regular and reserve wine lists. I passed the wine offerings over to my husband, as he is the vino enthusiast in the family, and immersed myself in the description of the cheeses. I order the cheese plate at every fine dining establishment we visit at Disney World. I was anxious to indulge in some new offerings, as we hadn't been to California Grill in years.

As we waited, I noticed the odd paradox in the restaurant's ambiance. It's the sort of place that you'd normally expect to be relatively quiet and dignified. The decor reminds me of Palo, the adults-only restaurant on Disney's cruise ships, and with entrees averaging $35, it's a few notches up from the local Dennys. But the atmosphere itself was pure Dennys, with kids running around like crazed, rabid weasels. That's a side effect of any restaurant at Disney World, of course, but it just seemed so out of place in an establishment of the California Grill's stature.

In one example of stellar parenting, the adults plopped their passel of offspring at a lounge table near ours, then proceeded to sit at another table as far away from the fruit of their loins as possible! Perhaps it wasn't a very Christmasy thought, but as I observed the mayhem around me, I suspected that many of the people had dug up their money jars in the yard outside their trailer (ala Randy Quaid in "Vegas Vacation") in order to finance their dinners. Yes, I know that's kind of snotty, but it's hard to find the good in people when one of their little darlings is screaming in your ear while the other has just slammed into your chair for the tenth time because he'd rather squeeze behind it than walk through the gaping aisle mere inches away, and mom and dad are oblivious on the other side of the building.

Soon my mind was drawn from the mayhem by a server who stopped by to see if we wanted to order drinks. Hubby had been pondering a bottle of wine, and the server recommended a somewhat pricey but intriguing vintage from the reserve list. It sounded really good, but hubby was drawn to a different bottle with the eye-catching name "Rocket Science."

We settled in to wait for our wine, which seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time. Finally the server returned and explained that he had good news and bad news. The bad news was that they were all out of "Rocket Science." The good news was that we could have the pinot noir he had recommended at the "Rocket Science" price if we wanted (a great deal, since it lists for $45 more). We took that option, and it turned out to be an excellent choice. I'm not into fine wines myself (I prefer the cheap "fine wine product" at Publix), but I will usually try what my husband is drinking. This vintage was so good that I ended up having a whole glass.

By this time, our table was ready. We settled in and gazed out at the dark lagoon; the Polynesian and Grand Floridian were visible in the distance, and off to the side I could just make out the monorail station at the Magic Kingdom. I watched the lights of the ferryboats as they transported the holiday crowds back and forth between the Ticket and Transportation Center. I'm sure the vast majority were vacationers, and I reminded myself how lucky I am to be "local." What a treat and privilege it is to be able to indulge myself in Disney World ambiance at any time!

I decided to order a plethora of appetizers instead of locking myself into a main course. We decided to split the mission fig flatbread, and then I ordered the cheese selection of five mouth-watering varieties, each paired with an "enhancer" like honeycomb or quince compote. Instead of a main course, I selected duck foie gras, and hubby promised to share a portion of his filet mignon.

As an added treat, the nightly electrical parade on the water was making it way to the Polynesian and the Grand Floridian. I watched in awe as the dancing animals and waving flags lit up on the lake. I've seen that parade countless times, but it still gives me a thrill. It's part of the fun that makes up the overall Disney experience.

In a perfect mesh of timing, the fireworks fell right between the appetizer and main course. At 10 minutes before 9, we finished the first course and trooped outside to the observation platform. The fireworks are always spectacular, but viewing them from 150 feet in the air added a new dimension. We could see the pyrotechnics around the castle, and we even saw Tinkerbell make her descent. The Contemporary pipes in the music, so you get the full effect. While my favorite holiday extravaganza is the holiday finale of Illuminations, Holiday Wishes was a close second.

After the show, we navigated back to our table, and our entrees appeared moments later. I was a bit taken aback by my next course...for some reason, I had thought that foie gras was pate, but I found myself staring at a big ol' duck liver on my plate! I took a cautious nibble, but it was too fatty for me. I adore beef liver, chicken liver, and just about any kind of pate, but this was prepared differently and looked a bit too graphic. My husband at most of it, while I confined myself to the huckleberry side dish and a chunk of his steak.

By dessert time, we were so full that we opted to split the lemon pudding (one of the lightest offerings on the menu). The completion of our meal occurred precisely at 10 p.m. Perfect! By the time we made our way downstairs and retrieved the car, that meant we'd arrive at church right around 10:30.

Back in Celebration, we found a parking spot right across from the church. The sanctuary was somewhat crowded, but not like the wall-to-wall crowd last year. Perhaps it's because Christmas fell on a Sunday this year, so there were multiple services to choose from (including added options at 5 and 7:30). But even though we could have gone before dinner, I never really considered anything other than 11 p.m. There's something about being in church on midnight as Christmas Eve segues into Christmas Day that gives me chills. It just seems so right. Better yet, it's a candlelight service, and I love the sight of the congregation standing in the darkened church, punctuated with dozens of flickering points of light, as we raise our voices in "Silent Night."

After the service, I reflected on what a perfect day we'd had to usher in Christmas Day (which we spent with Celebration friends, indulging in the traditional Chinese meal in honor of "A Christmas Story").

On the flipside, New Years Eve was also a matter of perfect timing, but in a much different way. We attended a house party, and both my husband and I brought our laptops along, since we both had to work. I set mine up on the kitchen table, with the volume turned up, in case a client needed to ring me. When I am in my virtual counseling office at Kasamba, I hear a loud jangle when someone is trying to contact me. There were a couple of regular clients who I knew might be checking in, and I was also available for new clients who might be in immediate need of help. I limited myself to one margarita because online counseling takes a fast mind and faster fingers, since it is conducted in a chatroom, so I didn't want to impair my abilities too greatly.

Sure enough, a new client buzzed me just before midnight. As the rest of the crowd clinked their champagne glasses and rushed outside to shoot off firecrackers, I was harnessed to the keyboard helping someone in crisis. By the time we finished our session, 2007 was already nearly an hour old.

Although it was a bit disappointing not to participate in the 12 a.m. revelry, that was negated by the realization that I played a part in someone else's perfect timing. One of the things I like best about doing online counseling is that anywhere, literally anywhere in the world, can contact me (or any of the other counselors at Kasamba) immediately. If they are in the midst of a crisis, help is as close as their computer. No shuffling through the Yellow Pages and waiting until business hours to make an appointment. They can reach out and make immediate human contact, even if it's the middle of the night...even if it's a holiday.

The internet has brought many conveniences, from email to blogging to the most obscure video clips. While it might feel like a necessity now, people in my age range (and even a little younger) lived for a long time without it. But out of all of the things that the web provides on demand, I think that access to instant help is one of the most important. Perfect timing can be a fun thing, like timing dinner and fireworks just right, but for a person in the middle of an emotional meltdown, it takes on a much more critical meaning...assistance on demand.

Christmas, Festivus, Et.Al.

It's Christmas Eve in Florida...a cloudy, muggy day. That's just the way I like it, or at least when compared to Chicago snow. But I'm really not prepared for the holiday yet; this year, we did a "Skipping Christmas" maneuver and took a week-long cruise from December 9th to the 16th. That means we spent seven days of prime preparation time chowing at the buffet, lounging at the pool, and relaxing in the spa. We did do one Christmas-preparatory activity: We attended the onboard gingerbread house-building seminar. Sadly, due to Customs rules that forbid bringing opened food shore, we had to abandon our creation when we disembarked.

A week may not seem like much time to lose, but it is when you have a seven-day work week. I did manage to put up some unlighted decorations outside, and my husband assembled our silver aluminum Christmas tree, but that was the extent of our efforts this year. I suppose it all balances out, since last year we went whole hog due to being featuring on the Celebration Holiday Home Tour.

Even though we're well into the evening of Christmas Eve, I haven't quite caught the holiday spirit yet. That's probably because the Turner "Christmas Story" 24-hour marathon doesn't begin for another two hours. For me, Christmas doesn't truly begin until I've seen Ralphie beg for the Holy Grail of presents: A Red Ryder BB gun.

Actually, I won't get to tune in until tomorrow. Pretty soon we'll head out to Disney World for dinner at the California Grill atop the Contemporary Resort. We'll watch the Magic Kingdom fireworks from our restaurant vantage point, and then we'll head off to Com Pres for the 11 p.m. candlelight service. By the time we're done with all that, I know that it will feel like Christmas.

On Christmas Day, it will be a Chinese feast with friends in honor of the "Christmas Story" finale. Last year, we added our own comic touch by finding a long, black hair in the orange beef. I'm not sure if we can top that in 2006, but I'm sure that we'll try.

On the home front, we've decided to embrace the fact that our tree is virtually decoration-free. My husband did string some sad-looking plastic bead-and-bell garland around its boughs, but neither one of us felt like tackling the ornaments. Since it is aluminum, we've decided to declare it a Festivus Tree...a bit fancier than the traditional Festivus Pole, but fashionably shabby-looking nonetheless.

In addition to the Airing of Grievances and the Feats of Great Strength, we will incorporate our own Christmas tradition: The Scratching of the Lottery Tickets. Since neither my husband nor I ever knows what we should buy for each other, we've solved the problem in a simple fashion. We buy a slew of instant lottery tickets, divide them up, and indulge in a gambling frenzy on Christmas morning. But this year we've decided to extend the fun...although Festivus is technically December 23rd, I think it makes more sense to extend the holiday season in any way possible. Thus, our customized celebration will take place on the 26th.

All in all, it promises to be another interesting holiday here in Celebration. It's a far cry from the first Christmas after we bought Duloc Manor. We'd only owned it for four short months, so we didn't have a Christmas tree or any decorations yet. We bought a little tabletop tree complete with decorations and erected it in the front room. We've long since graduated to "real" trees, but we still own that first little piece of holiday cheer.

It's time to get ready for dinner, so MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY NEW YEAR, OR HAPPY WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE!!!

December Horse Play

Although I'm feeling pretty Christmasy, it's hard to go whole hog when the temperatures are flirting with the 80s. That's what I love about living in Florida; today, December 21, just three days away from Christmas Eve, I just returned home from a five hour horseback ride. Back in Chicago, I'd probably be bundled up and shivering.

Actually, I didn't originally plan to ride that long today. I went out in Lake Louisa State Park with the barn owner, who had a rare day off. Usually her riding time is very limited, but for once the work was under control so we could take a long, relaxing ride. We ended up going out to the South Trail, which is as far as you can possibly go...literally from one end of the state park to the other.

The weather was perfect for riding. It was warm, but not blisteringly hot, and the bugs were blissfully absent. The day was beautiful, the horses were energetic, and our butts were ready for the abuse of some long hours in the saddle.

Figment was happy to have a buddy along, since we usually ride by ourselves. But even though he is very brave when I ride him alone, he turns into a thousand-pound wimp when he's in a herd. He insists on staying behind the other horse(s), and if the other equine balks, he has to do the same. He'll do it even when the other horse is balking at something that Figgie has seen a dozen times. Thankfully, he usually won't spook too badly (i.e. bolt or jump to the side) even if another horse is spooking, unless there really is something terrifying (like a horse-eating deer or a homicidal flock of birds).

Boudreaux, the barn owner's horse, is very calm and well behaved 95 percent of the time, but he likes to make up for it during the other five percent, tossing in a major spook every now and then. Poor Boudreaux attracts deer like his manure attracts flies. Granted, there are a lot out in the state park, but we always see a disproportinate number when Boo is along. They like to surprise him by popping up suddenly out of the brush, so of course he has to leap wildly to the side. The barn owner is quite good at riding out his silliness, but it's always quite a surprise to be plodding along calmly and then, suddenly...EEEEKKKK!!! A DEADLY DEER!

Figment is no angel himself. Like Boo, he's good most of the time, but then his Evil Figgie personality takes over. He tosses in a spook every now and then and gets an attitude problem if I try to force him to walk in the front of the pack.

But for the most part the horses were very good, especially considering that we probably covered over 15 miles today. We had neglected to pack any human snacks (I always bring a handful of horse cookies); all we had was water, and our stomaches started rumbling three hours into the ride. Fortunately, a long stretch of the trail runs through an orange grove. We stopped for a sweet citrus snack and allowed the horses to have some grazing time.

The ride was great fun, but by the time we had reached Hour Four, our butts were ready for a break. As we stretched into Hour Five and turned onto the trail home, I could almost hear my rump rejoicing. On the way, we stopped at the water trough at the trail head, and both Boo and Figgie drank like dehydrated camels.

When we got back to the barn, we hosed the boys down and turned them out in the round pen, which was supplied with several stacks of peanut hay. Back in Illinois, Figment ate a timothy/alfalfa mix hay, and the first time he was served the peanut variety, he gave it an evil look. Eventually he started eating it grudgingly. Then suddenly he realized that it's actually a taste treat, and now he would rather eat peanut hay than fresh grass, carrots, and even apple cookies!

As I watched Figgie blissfully rolling in the dirt before he buried his nose in a hay feast, I reminded myself that Christmas Eve was less than 72 hours away. What a wonderment to be basking in the sunshine, wearing a t-shirt, and enjoying the warmth.

It reminded me of a long ago Christmas Eve when there was a strange anomaly in Chicago. At the time, I had owned my first horse, Cochise, for maybe two or three years, so it was over 20 years ago. We'd had the usual snowfall, but on this particular December 24th, the temperature went up into the 70s!! All of the snow melted, flooding the wide, open fields where we used to ride. The water was not quite up to a horse's knees, so 'Chise and I cantered through the flooded grass, sending up a stream of water, delighting in the fact that we were doing this the day before Christmas!! It's quite a standout memory to be wearing a t-shirt and playing in water at that time of year in Chicago.

That night, the weather was stranger still. I went to a barn down the road to meet up with some friends, and we were all gathered around the fireplace in the game room, listening to the thunderstorm outside. Yes, a thunderstorm! I can't even describe how odd it was to hear the rumbling ruckus outside at a time of the year when a blizzard would have been the norm.

Now, sunshine, water play, and rainstorms in December are the norm for me. Yes, it's a little hard to equate with Christmas, but that's just fine with me. It's just one of the many pleasures of living in the Sunshine State...a Christmas "present" that I can enjoy all winter long.

The Quest for Cocoa Wheats

Ah, the comfort foods of childhood! One of my favorites was Coco Wheats, a hot cereal along the same lines as oatmeal or cream of wheat. As a matter of it, the best way to describe it is a cocoa-ized version of cream of wheat, although that's not completely accurate. Even though it is chocolately, it is not sweetened at all. As a kid, I sprinkled it liberally with sugar and drowned it in a pool of milk, stirring it into a teeth-jangling, soupy glop.

When I reached adulthood, I usually kept a box or two of Coco Wheats in the cupboard. I lost the taste for sugar, but it made a yummy cocoa treat when I was in the mood for a quick fill-'er-up. Although it's good at any time of the year, I've always perceived it as a cold-weather food. Like oatmeal, it sticks to your ribs, so it makes a handy breakfast or a way to attack an evening craving. Because it is warm and hearty, it tastes particularly good when the cold winds are blowing outside and snowflakes are swirling around the window panes.

When we moved to Celebration, Coco Wheats slipped from my mind. You don't see many snowflakes in Florida unless they are made of soap, and "cold" is a relative term. For two years, my inner child did without, but suddenly this winter a craving cropped up out of nowhere. It was during our last cold snap, when temperatures in the Orlando area were actually flirting with the freeze point. My inner thermostat clicked, and suddenly I wanted to fill up on some pre-hibernation comfort food.

I dutifully added Coco Wheats to the shopping list, and as hubby and I navigated the aisles of Publix, I headed to the cereal aisle with an air of assurance. My eyes scanned the offerings: Oatmeal in various shapes and forms, Cream of Wheat, Malt-o-Meal, grits.....argh!! Something was missing!

I was aghast that such a staple item would be absent. My husband scanned the shelves in case I had somehow skipped over the object of my desire. Soon he, too, had to admit defeat. There were no Coco Wheats to be had. My mind was boggled...could a food item that I had taken for granted throughout my entire childhood and on into adulthood really be just a regional fad?

Since my husband was slated to return to Chicago for work, I charged him with an important responsibility: Go to "da Jewels" (Chicago-speak for visiting the grocery store) and pick up a supply of my favorite hot cereal. Here in Celebration, I live without real Chicago style pizza (Beggars Pizza in Blue Island is the best) and genuine Chicago hot dogs (Portillos is good, but JR's has them beat, with the added bonus of an Orange Julius-type drink with the explosive name "Orange Bang"). But everyone has their limits...I cannot survive without Coco Wheats!

Hubby dutifully fulfilled his task, and I descended on him like a locust, snatching the precious box from his clutches practically before I gave him a "welcome home" kiss. He also told me that he had looked up the official Coco Wheats website and discovered that it might be available at Wal-Mart. Publix is a lost cause; supposedly you can request it from the store manager, who then must order it through "Gourmet Award Foods." That seems a little complicated for a chocolate cream of wheat knock-off.

It's strange to see the things that Publix carries (or doesn't); another impossible-to-find item is good old potato dumplings. Being of Austrian/Hungarian descent, I need a fix of turkey paprikash on a fairly regular basis. (Yes, I know it's traditionally made with chicken, but hubby is allergic to chicken meat so we use the next-closest option.) Dumplings are an essential component of paprikash, and in Chicago they were readily available at the Jewel grocery store.

Here in Florida, the Publix closest to Celebration didn't carry them, but we found them at one a little farther down the road. In this area, the number of Publix stores rivals the number of Starbucks shops in the Chicago Loop...I can easily rattle off four or five located within a few miles of each other on 192. But for some unknown reason, that store abruptly quit carrying the coveted dumplings. Now all they have are some gross noodle-like things. My husband, who is the cook in our house, has had to learn to make his own out of Bisquick (just wait till I hit him up for traditional German farina dumplings!).

Oh well, even though dumplings are still a challenge, at least I have my Coco Wheats fix for now. And even though I think of it as a winter food, it sure tastes a heck of a lot better gazing out the window at swaying palm trees in the middle of December!

Thanksgiving Past and Christmas Future

Wasn't it just Halloween? How did Thanksgiving slip past me already? Can Christmas really be just three weeks away? 'Round about October, I think that God grabs His universal remote and plants His finger firmly down on the "fast forward button," and now here we are in the midst of the holiday season already.

It was a lovely Florida Thanksgiving; people often ask if I miss my family now that I am 1200 miles away, but in all honesty I can't say that I do. My parents passed away a long, long time ago. I have an older brother and sister, but my aunts and uncles are all gone, too, and we were never close with any cousins. I do keep in touch with my siblings, nephews, and nieces via the magic of free long distance on our cell phones, and because of the regular contact, I don't feel a compelling need to see them face to face at the holidays.

Yes, it would be nice to see them, but let's look at this realistically: Late November in Florida rarely means temperatures below the 70s or 60s. A Chicago winter can mean anything from tolerable 50s to bone-chilling single digits, and a snowstorm can blow in at any time. Which would you choose? Any family worth its salt should understand when a member prefers to stay among sunshine and palm trees instead of returning to a bleak winter wasteland.

In Florida, a majority of our friends and neighbors are in the same situation. They bailed from other parts of the country, leaving family behind, and they have no big compulsion to head back. I suspect that for many it's more than just the weather. Let's face it: Most of us don't hail from the Brady Bunch. The typical American household makes the "Married With Children" gang or the Simpsons look like a bastion of mental health. Who really wants to return to the dysfunctional family melee, especially when you have a geographic excuse to fall back on?

Thus, on Thanksgiving and Christmas, you will find many "families of choice" forming. Imagine if you could choose your own family members. Moving a thousand or so miles from home gives you a pseudo-opportunity to do so.

I prefer surrounding myself with people who put the "fun" in dysfunctional, and my Celebration social group reflects that. Here is our Thanksgiving "family portrait":



Don't we make a lovely group?! Christmas Day will be spent with friends, too, but on Christmas Eve I just had to continue the tradition that we started in 2005 and work in a dose of Disney World. I'd rather smear steak juice on my body and step into a pit of rabid wolverines than go near the theme parks on a holiday. But the resorts have plenty of wonderful dining options, so I called 407-WDW-DINE to see if there were any reservations still available.

I always wait until the eleventh hour to call for holiday reservations, so my choices are usually quite limited. Last year I lucked out and managed to get into Ohana at the virtually last minute on December 24th, but usually I can tell that the reservation agent is choking down chuckles at my insensible optimism. Still, my holiday procrastination can lead to discovery of some wonderful new restaurants. For example, calling on Valentine's Day afternoon was the way in which I discovered Ragland Road at Downtown Disney, which is now one of my favorite eateries at WDW.

For Christmas Eve, the only viable options when I called this week were California Grill and Flying Fish Cafe. I've eaten at both, although not for many years. It was a difficult choice, but I opted for California Grill because the available reservation time should allow us to see the "Wishes" fireworks right around the time that we are finishing our meal. I can't imagine a better way to spend December 24th than an exquisite fine dining experience, capped with a spectacular fireworks display before we head back to Celebration to get ready for the 11 p.m. candlelight service at Community Presbyterian Church.

I'm already prepared for a potential letdown on Christmas Day itself. How can it ever top last year, when we shared a meal of "Christmas Story"-esque Chinese food with friends and discovered a long, black hair in the Mongolian beef? And, more to the point, would I even want to top hairy Chinese food? Some legends are best left untouched. Instead, I will take the 2006 meal at face value and enjoy it on its own terms.

We've already made our annual pilgrimmage to see the Osborn lights, the Candlelight Processional, and the special ground-shaking Christmas version of Illuminations. Next up is a Disney cruise with our next-door neighbors (yes, Celebration really is a neighborly, close-knit town...in just three years, Gee Gee and Paw Paw have gone from being an intriguing presence on the "Sold" sign next door to Duloc Manor to our pseudo-parents...I just can't wait to show them all the wonders of the Disney Magic). By the time we get home from that, we'll be in the Christmas home stretch.

It's shaping up to be another lovely holiday season in Florida. I don't miss Chicago at all, particularly since it recently got battered by an early snowstorm and plunged into a single-digit deep freeze. I suppose that I do have one regret, though, but it's a generic one: The holiday season is just too darned short! I wish that God would switch from fast forward to slow motion because there is way too much to do and so little of that precious commodity called time.

Truckster Joins the Family

For a while now, our automotive family has consisted of Crush (our Neighborhood Electric Vehicle, which can only be used within the confines of the Celebration bubble and which rarely exceeds 23 mph even with the hammer down) and Canyonero, the trusty Aztek that we drove down from Chicago nearly two years ago. Good old Canyonero carried hubby and I, three cats, two fish, and a bird through a freak Atlanta ice storm that turned an 18 hour drive into 24 tedious, never-ending (and sometimes hair-raising) hours.

We've managed to juggle our lives around being a one-car family, but Canyonero is nearly five years old, and I've been worried that we're entering that ugly period when a car suddenly seems to self-destruct. We still have 22,000 miles left on our extended warranty, but that doesn't help with the inconvenience of shuttling it back and forth to the shop and finding a way to get home.

Between Canyonero's age and the occasional nuisance of one person wanting to go somewhere outside of Celebration while the other has the car, we decided it was time to expand the fold. I am a rabid Aztek fan, but sadly Pontiac stopped production back in 2005. We did find a used prospect on Car Max's website, but it was sold by the time we called. Reluctantly, I accepted the fact that it was time to switch brands.

I know that many people tie their identity, and sometimes even their self esteem, into the car they drive. I am very much the opposite; a car is a necessary evil, so I only care about two things: price and side curtain air bags (in Tourist Land, I want all the protection I can possibly get). Also, my purchase of Canyonero represented my leap to the Dark Side (SUV ownership). To me, they always seemed like overkill, but one day I was tooling along in my Neon and realized that I was surrounded by giant rolling fortresses that could crush me like a bug without even noticing. Reluctantly I resolved to put myself on even footing, but I shopped on price rather than prestige.

The Aztek had the best features at the lowest price, and I realized that it had an additional advantage: It was ug-leeee! What better vehicle for a person who can't stand SUVs than the ugliest SUV possible? Nowadays the Aztek is actually pretty low on the visual pain scale, but back in '02 it was still a shocker.

So what meets the price/safety/ugliness triad in the 2007 model year? The Honda Element, of course! You have to love a toaster on wheels whose owners adopted the following motto:



We considered a few other vehicles but were leaning towards the E, so we headed off to our local dealer for a test drive. I did some preliminary price research, but nothing too heavy duty since we weren't planning to buy that night.

The salesman took us for a spin in a nice blue LX model. I noticed that all of the Elements had various combinations of overpriced dealer-installed extras, like pinstripes for $195 (nearly $200 for a stinkin' sticker?!), mudflaps, and wheel locks. I know enough from my research not to allow those items to enter into the negotiations. Dealers put them on to add to their profits or to give them more wiggle room; if they come down on something that is overpriced in the first place, it gives an uninformed consumer the erroneous idea that they are getting something valuable. I don't want those items, so if I dealer really wants to play hardball, they can either take 'em off or order me a new vehicle without them. Most of the time, if you really dig in your heels, they end up getting thrown in for free.

After the drive, I stepped inside and gave the salesman a chance to make his initial pitch. When I told him we wanted to shop around some more, he did a turnover to one of the sales managers. The manager had no idea whether we were the sort to do research, so he went through his spiel while I snickered internally. My favorite thing that he said was how the internet invoice doesn't include expenses like dealer prep, so I'd have to factor that in too. Uh, no, that is reimbursed by the manufacturer. But I didn't say anything, just nodded, listened, and formulated my opinion of how upfront they were likely to be when we entered into serious negotiations.

We departed and I got online, tearing up the keyboard to determine a fair offer. I learned about a scam that seems to be concentrated in certain states, with Florida being one of the worst offenders: the documentation charge. I imagine that dealers would take offense at the word "scam," but what else do you call charging $299 to $599, and sometimes even more, for simply doing the paperwork? That's like McDonald's tacking on a "burger assembly fee" or the local gas station assessing a "pump equipment usage charge."

In Illinois, the fee is capped around $50, and since I bought Canyonero on an employee purchase program, that was automatically waived. In Florida, a dealer must technically charge the same fee to every customer or risk a lawsuit. But a savvy buyer will make sure that an equivalent amount is deducted from the car price.

I decided that I would offer $100 over invoice, with the only acceptable additions being tax and the actual cost of the license and title. But I tossed in one more condition: a two-year extension of the bumper to bumper warranty. In Illinois, that's never been a problem since the warranty mark-up is insane, but I soon learned that Florida has some big roadblocks to that stipulation.

I was going to email a number of area dealers, but I decided to run the offer by the local dealership first. After all, they had taken the time to give us the test drive, and I like to keep my business close to home when I can. They agreed to the price, but without with the warranty. In Florida, it has to be sold at the same price to everyone, and you can't shop around for it after the purchase at out-of-state sources because the law stipulates that you can only buy it from someone in FL. Dealers must have a heck of a powerful lobby here!

They had a finance guy come out to talk to me, but all he did was yammer about how I shouldn't want a Honda-backed extended warranty anyway and how his third-party provider was better (yeah, and people thought Warranty Gold was better, too, till they went belly up). Not only that, but I noticed that he only pushed the Platinum plan, which is overkill for an Element LX. I tried to ask some questions about the Honda warranty, but he kept correcting me because he was so focused on the terms of the other plan. I'm not sure how that dog and pony show was supposed to convince me to take their deal; it would have been more effective to simply say, "We can't do that" and then make a counter offer. Since they didn't match my proposal, and didn't put anything else on the table, I decided to go home to do some more warranty research and send out my email blitz.

I soon realized that the warranty was a lost, so I focused on an out-the-door price for the car. My blitz brought in one decent offer via email ($100 less than the local dealer had offered, i.e. invoice price) and an even better offer on the phone ($225 less than invoice). I wasn't too surprised at the under-invoice quote because Honda has a 3% holdback (an additional sum of money that the dealer gets from the manufacturer in a complicated financial dance). That brings their actual cost to $600 or so below invoice, although dealers are usually quite loathe to cough any of the holdback to a buyer. Sometimes there are also factory-to-dealer incentives, although my online detective work didn't turn up any for the Element. Also, it's sometimes a matter of timing; a dealer may need to "roll a unit" to qualify for some sort of financial incentive. If they need to sell just one more car to qualify, it might behoove them to sell it at cost, or even below, to earn several thousand dollars from the manufacturer.

I really don't know what factors were behind the quotes we had received; I only knew that they looked pretty good. Since we had taken up a lot of the local dealer's time, I decided to give them a chance to match our best offer before we took our business elsewhere. I called the salesman and told him that if he could match that price, I would be in that evening to complete the purchase. He said "yes," so we shuttled off to the dealership, believing that the third time would be a charm.

The salesman was with another customer, so hubby and I poked around the lot. We weren't looking at a specific car, just any Element LX with base equipment. We had seen a couple of vehicles come and go on the lot over the past three days, and we wondered what colors were currently in stock. It looked like we were going to end up with silver; I prefer blue, but for the right price it could be Teaberry Pink or Horse Poop Brown.

Inside the dealership, I gave the salesman my notes, with a list of the quotes I had received. He asked if I had the lowest one in writing; I explained that I didn't but that I would be happy to call that dealer back and let him listen in while it was confirmed. Instead, he asked me to send copies of all my emails to one of the sales managers. I plopped down in the dealer's internet cafe and forwarded a copy of everything that I had sent out and the quotes that had come back via email.

At the salesman's desk, he pulled out an infamous four-square sheet and asked me to sign it to show my intent. I was a little puzzled because showing up for the third time should be a pretty strong sign of intent! The four-square is usually used to divert payment buyers and people with trade-ins from the numbers that the dealer doesn't want them to focus on; it's also used to make offers back and forth. That puzzled me, since I'd made it clear that I had one number; either they matched it or I'd buy from the other dealer.

As I scanned the sheet, I realized that there were no numbers at all. I told the salesman, "First. fill in the price we agreed to and all the details, and I will be happy to sign."

He said, "Okay, one minute," and disappeared. When he returned, it was suddenly impossible to do the deal unless I produced the lowest quote in writing. When I had called earlier, the salesman had asked if I had it, and I had made it quite clear that it was a phone quote. Now the terms were suddenly changing, which didn't sit too well with me.

A manager came out to tell me how the offer was probably a low-ball and I'd never get the car at that price unless the other dealership really, really needed to make another a sale regardless of the profit. He said he would still meet it if they would put it in writing, but he bent our ear about how it would practically be a loss and he'd only be doing it because it was the end of the month...blah...blah...blah. I don't really care about the reasons; all I wanted to know is would they sell me the car for that price or not.

Since he insisted on a written quote, our only option was to leave. He said to bring not only the price, but also a specific VIN number of the vehicle the other dealer would sell us. As we walked out to Canyonero, I thought, "If I go through all that trouble, why should I come back here? They've let me walk twice already, so they could easily pull the same trick again. Why not just go with the other dealer?" Sure, we liked our salesman and we'd had the test drive there, but now they had just wasted a couple hours of our precious time. If they believed that the quote was a lowball, they should have simply said on the phone, "If the deal doesn't work out, please give us a chance to match the second lowest quote."

We decided to eat out, and on the way to the restaurant, I called the low-offer dealer to see whether they would re-confirm the price. The person I had spoken with was gone for the day and wouldn't be returning till Friday. We had a nice dinner at Mimi's Cafe, and when we got home, I got a new email from yet another dealership. Coincidentally, it matched the second-lowest offer we'd gotten earlier. I fired off an email to our salesman, explaining that we appreciated his help but that we were just going to go with the low-quote dealer if they confirmed their offer because it didn't make sense to risk wasting our time again.

The next day, the local manager emailed me and also left a phone message asking me to submit the second lowest quote; he said he would let us know for sure if he would honor it. Duh! He already had that quote, since I had forwarded it right there at the dealership internet cafe at the salesman's request. Besides, why would I want the second lowest quote matched when I was reasonably confident of getting the lowest price?

I responded by reminding him that he already had the second lowest quote but that I wasn't worried about matching it because I had two other dealers who had confirmed it in writing. I explained that while I wanted to purchase locally, I was leery of being burned again. I rereiterated that we had visited his dealership fully prepared to buy a car twice; if they were serious, they could have either made a counter offer the first time (which I probably would have accepted) or offered to match our second-lowest quote if the rock-bottom deal didn't pan out. Why call and make that offer now, and worse yet, not have a definitive answer?

I hate it when a dealer feels that a customer should jump through hoops. If you think my offer is too low and don't want to be bothered, just tell me so. I'm not interested in reasons, justifications, etc. A simple "yes" or "no" will save us both time and energy. And the worst thing that you can do is make me an offer, then back down when I show up on your doorstep.

I emailed a request to the low-quote dealer (Holler Honda in Winter Park) to confirm their price in writing. On Friday, the salesman from the local dealer called, and I explained that I had responded to his manager via email and that I was now waiting for a call from the low-quoter. He said he would talk to his manager and call me back; in the meantime, Holler called me and promptly followed up with email verification. I called back our salesman to tell him that it was all a moot point now; I certainly wasn't going to give his manager another shot after being told "yes" and having it turn to "no" once already.

I said, "I'm sorry that he didn't believe me when I didn't have it in writing." The salesman kept insisting that it wasn't me they didn't believe, but rather the other dealer. I was snickering internally, remembering the old car sales motto: "Buyers are liars." No matter what they say, I think they let a foolish stereotype kibosh the sale. Perhaps they're just not used to people who present an offer up front; they're conditioned to dicker, so something in their genes prevents them from just saying "Yes" to a figure without increasing it in some way.

But thankfully not all dealers are like that. Dealing with Holler Honda turned out to be a very pleasant and painless process. I probably shouldn't even have gotten the closest dealer involved beyond the test drive; I like to support local businesses, but not when they make me waste time and actually work to give them my money!

Holler took my deposit over the phone and told me my new Element would be waiting for me on Saturday (they didn't have any in stock, so they traded with another dealer in Lakeland). Since they could get whatever color we wanted, we chose the nice midnight-blue color that we'd been favoring.

We did get a call from another dealer who offered the vehicle at $100 below Holler's price, plus a free extension of the powertrain warranty and free maintenance for a year. It was tempting, but they are out in Tampa so it wouldn't be practical to run out there for maintenance. It would have been nice to save an additional $100, but I was tired of negotiating and decided to stick with the known quantity.

On Saturday, hubby and I decided to combine the car pick-up with a stop at the spa store to replenish our supply of chemicals, since they are close to the dealer. We climbed into Canyonero and drove it off to meet its new sibling, stopping for lunch on the way.

We ate at Cafe Tu Tu Tango, reveling in the weekly specials (steak brushetta and a grilled goat cheese and crab sandwich with tomato and red pepper soup, and French cake with pears and homemade pistachio gelato for dessert). Tummies full, we tooled towards the spa store. Suddenly I looked at my husband and said, "Did you bring the check?"

Oops!!!

Back to Duloc Manor for the check, then back to I-4 for a grueling repeat journey. Now we didn't have time for the spa stop; instead, we headed directly to Holler. We managed to get lost once we got off the expressway, but after wandering aimlessly a bit in Winter Park, we finally reached our destination.

There was a blue Element sitting right near the gate, so we gravitated to it immediately, thinking that it was Truckster. A salesman came out and greeted us by name, guessing who we were by the vehicle we had approached and the sheaf of paperwork in our hands. Turns out it wasn't Truckster, which was still getting its final detail work. He showed us the correct vehicle, and we poked around looking for any scratches, dings, or other imperfections. After all, it might manage to survive for a whole week, or perhaps even two if we're lucky, in Tourist Land before the first door smack mars its perfect blue body. It looked great; I doubt that it was even test driven much at the dealer it came from. They are 58 miles away from Holler, and it had 63 on the odometer, meaning that it only ran up 5 miles at its original home.

The salesman started our paperwork, and everything was in order. I breathed a sigh of relief; after our experience with the local dealer, I was expecting some bogus fee or other deal breaker to pop out of the woodwork. The only bump in an otherwise butter-smooth road was a long wait for the finance person. But it was Saturday evening, and the dealership was packed, so that was understandable; even if three finance people working, the customers were backed up.

To kill time, the salesman gave us an in-depth review of Truckster's features. I tried to pay attention, but I couldn't help being distracted by that intoxicating new car smell. Still, I think I managed to key into the main points, i.e. how to turn the car on and how to use the headlights and windshield wipers. Anything beyond that is gravy!

In the finance office, we were offered the usual array of extras, but we took a pass on all of them. Most are high-profit for the dealer and low-value for the consumer, although we are still considering the pre-paid maintenance plan. But I wouldn't buy any of that without considering it and running some numbers, so we declined for the time being. Also, I never buy a car without having my own financial terms worked out; if you use the dealer for financing, you open the door to all sorts of schemes. At the very least, you're likely to pay too much in interest unless the manufacturer has a special program and if you qualify for it.

The only tactic that I didn't like at Holler was having to sign a mandatory arbitration agreement, which takes away your right to sue. Granted, you don't have to sign it, but some dealers will refuse to sell you the car unless you do. I had forgotten all about those agreements; since I was sick of shopping around, I signed and crossed my fingers that we'll never have to test it. But next time, I will make "no arbitration agreement" a condition of my internet quotes.

Another stipulation that savvy shoppers often plan on their offer is to not allow the dealer to affix a sticker with their name to the vehicle. The reasoning is, why should you provide free advertising? Here in the Orlando/Kissimmee area, my reasoning is just the opposite. I want that sticker, free advertising or not. Heck, I want anything that differentiates my car from the scores of rentals on the road. If a criminal looking for someone to "bump and mug" notices Truckster was is a private vehicle, he'll probably think, "Uh oh, a local! They could have a gun, and if they do, they can blow my head off legally if I dare to threaten them! Better look for easy rental car pickin's. After all, what's a tourist going to shoot me with? Their suitcase?"

Once the papers were signed and the payment was taken care of, our salesman showed us a few last things. Then he shook our hands, and we drove our new "baby" home (well, I did; poor hubby was stuck in Canyonero...I felt bad for him sitting in the dirty, dusty workhorse car that probably reeked of my barn gear and the tomato soup I spilled last week while I was breathing Eau di Assembly Line).

I did let him drive to our "celebratory dinner" at Mimi's (yes, we go there a lot...their French Quarter burger with avocado is to die for), and on the way home he took an abrupt detour. "I'm going to be the first person to drive it on Disney property!" he announced, heading for the Osceola Parkway gate. Sigh! Pretty soon the novelty will wear off, and I'll be the primary chauffer again, so I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

After church today, we outfitted Truckster with Celebration license plate frames and a Celebration plate on the front. At the moment, it has a "barfing orange" plate on the back (if you're not sure what I mean, click here). That will change at renewal time in October, when I get to choose from Florida's ridiculousy vast selection of affinity plates. We have everything from "State of the Arts" (whatever that means) to "Imagine" (imagine what?) to "Parents Make a Difference (especially if you're raised in a dysfunctional family!). I'll probably just get "Animal Friend," which promotes spaying and neutering, as the world definitely doesn't need any more spoiled, belligerent cats like the ones that run my household.

I find myself comparing Truckster to Canyonero, and my 'Tek still comes out the winner. The main things it's missing are daylight running lights/auto-on headlights, built-in compass/thermometer, a roll-out tray, and extra electrical outlets. But the Element is the next best thing, and I do like the fact that not only do the seats come out, but you can also flip them up and "hang" them out of the way. Also, the front seats have waterproof fabric, and there is no carpeting on any of the floor surfaces, so they are easily cleanable. (There's an urban legend that you can clean an Element out with a hose, but don't believe it. Technically you can do it...but only once.)

Hopefully my Element will stick out here in Celebration, the Land of Extremes (sometimes I feel like I'm surrouned by Hummers and Minis, with not much inbetween). I am ordering a decal for Truckster that I think will sum up its role here in our town quite well:



Overall, I'm pleased with Truckster. Sure, it's not an Aztek, but it's a pretty reasonable facsimile. I'm proud of my toaster on wheels and proud to echo the slogan of Element afficianados everywhere: "The Element...screw aerodynamics!!"

America's Wang Revisited

One of my favorite lines from the Simpsons, which I've quoted in my blog before, is Homer Simpson's lament when Dr. Hibbert suggests that he pay a visit to Florida: "But that's America's wang!" (Hibbert does correct him: "They prefer the Sunshine State.")

Recently I was Googling some of my favorite Simpsons quotes, and lo and behold, I found the following website:

WARNING: DO NOT VISIT THIS WEBSITE IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED. ALSO, IT'S NOT RECOMMENDED FOR THE LITTLE ONES. CONSIDERING THAT THE SUBJECT MATTER IS AMERICA'S WANG, IT GETS JUST A BIT EXPLICIT

Click here: Florida's Morning Wood

I have to admit that this site, and particularly its graphic animation, appealed to my rather perverse sense of humor. Remember, I am a person who has been known to wear an aluminum beanie to deflect the evil influences of the black balls that hang throughout town (granted, I was suffering from severe road fatigue at the time so psychotic hallucinations would not be out of the realm of possibility). I have visited a nudist colony (twice!) to oogle the painful piercings and flabby flesh; yes, I kept my clothes on, but it still takes some moxy (and/or margaritas). With that sort of mindset, the idea of living on America's Wang is a source of amusement for me.

I just hope that Disney World doesn't get wind of this. In their never-ending quest for corporate sponsorships, I can just imagine Wang Lang, their newest addition. For starters, Trojan could sponsor Pooh's 100 Acre Wood playground, and I'm sure that Viagra would pony up the dough for a new section of inflatable bouncy houses. Instead of Mickey and the gang, Smiling Bob from those Enzyte commercials would be on hand to sign autographs at the end of his company's sponsored ride, "It's A Small World After All...(till you use our product)."

Okay, enough wang jokes. I'm outta here...if you need to find me, I'll be at the Annual Passholders preview of Wang Land, hanging out near the foot long hot dog cart.

In Search of a Microwave

In this day and age, you would think that purchasing a microwave would be a straightforward, and even mundane, task. Leave it to hubby and I to turn a simple shopping trip into a quest of "Lord of the Rings" proportions.

Those who read my previous blog entry know the background of the Microwave Trauma. While cooking frozen lasagna, the microwave fritzed out and the electrical outlet melted down like a nuclear tower on Three Mile Island. An electrician removed the scorched and twisted remains of the outlet box, snipping off the microwave plug which had fused itself to the melted mess. She warned us that the outlet had not been installed properly; one of the connections had never been tightened, so over time we were building up to the catastrophic failure that finally occurred.

She checked our breaker box and found several loose connections in there, too, as well as a stripped circuit breaker that couldn't be tightened at all! Perhaps not coincidentally, the stripped breaker was for the master bedroom, where we've had a plethora of electrical problems. Between the current mess, the loose neutral when we moved in, and various outlet problems over the first year of residency in Duloc Manor, I theororize that the original electrician was either drunk as a skunk or nursing one hell of a hangover. Either way, his mind was clearly not on this work.

Once our happy home was in an electrically safe condition, we shifted our focus to replacing the microwave. Technically, the existing microwave could be repaired. At the very least, it needs a new plug; it's even possible that's all it needs. It's covered under our extended warranty, so we'd pony up a $50 co-pay to get it back into working order.

As soon as the electrician was done, I called the warranty company to arrange for an appliance repair person. Warranty work is a slow process, especially when you call on a Friday afternoon. They fax a work order to the selected repair facility, who then calls to make an appointment on the next business day (in this case, Monday). However, when I hung up the phone, I realized that I'd been given the name of a company that doesn't service the Celebration/Kissimmee area because they are out in Oviedo. We'd been given the same company when our dishwasher died a few weeks ago, and it added an inordinate amount of time to the whole muddled mess.

I didn't really care with the dishwasher, since we only use it sporadically. But losing the microwave is nearly akin to losing a limb! My husband is the chef in our home, and while he does a lot of stovetop cooking, he relies on the microwave for plenty of small tasks. Both of us depend on it to heat up our lunches, warm up leftovers, etc. It was utterly pathetic to see the poor man heating up coffee in a saucepan on the stove this morning before church (if he makes it the night before, he will drink it the next day rather than brew up a whole new pot).

Besides the trauma an extended wait for repairs would cause us, hubby was leery of our trusty old microwave. According to the electrician, the outlet had been malfunctioning for a while, so he was suspicious that the oven's innards might have sustained some non-apparent damage. I was willing to take the chance, as my Premonition of Danger meter is close to zero. But my husband's attitude was to start from scratch; the identical microwave (albeit a newer version) is $199, and he felt that $149 wasn't an unreasonable price to pay for peace of mind.

I agreed to retire our current unit to Nuker Heaven and get a new one. He located the GE Spacemaker at both Home Depot and Appliance Direct (if you live in central FL, you are more than familiar with AD's hyperkinectic commercials from hell, but they really do save you a few dollars...$12 in the case of the microwave). AP said it would have to be ordered, while the Kissimmee Depot assured us that it was in stock. Thus we hopped into Canyonero (our Aztek) for what we believed would be a simple, unchallenging mission.

The first hint of a possibility that we were laboring under a Gypsy curse occurred when we arrived at Depot and were told the oven was out of stock. Wielding his printout of the store phone number and location, hubby determined that we were indeed at the right location. The sales associate had no explanation (although I picture some guy passing through the appliance department and picking up the phone on a lark, saying "Yeah, yeah, sure we have that!" while snickering into his hand).

But the associate assured us that he could get what we wanted from the warehouse by next week; better yet, there was a delivery charge rebate going on, so we could get it delivered for free and have it installed by the delivery person for only $20. My husband wasn't looking forward to the prospect of installing it himself, so we readily agreed.

After tapping on the computer for an inordinate amount of time, the associate excused himself with a look of worried confusion. When he returned, he broke the bad news: The free delivery option was only available for items of $299 and up. Since we didn't want to pop an additional $55, we decided to take our chances elsewhere. Since Depot had claimed it was in stock and it wasn't, maybe the opposite was true at Appliance Direct. They weren't all that far away, so it was worth a shot.

On the way out, we picked up an outlet tester; in view of our experience, I've decided that they should be standard issue to anyone buying a home in Florida (ours is not the only case of builder negligence that I know of...another Celebration resident even had a nasty house fire because of a similar problem with a loose neutral).

Well, in theory Appliance Direct wasn't all that far. In practice, we hadn't brought their address, so a spirited debate ensued over whether they were located on John Young Parkway or Orange Blossom Trail. Turns out it was OBT, but we had a heck of a time finding it because it goes by the name of Main Street where it meets 192.

Apparently the frenzied ads are successful, as Appliance Direct was jam-packed with fridge and stove-hungry customers fighting over the limited sales staff. We did a quick reconnaissance mission and located a GE Spacemaker on display in the exact model that we wanted...except that it was black rather than white. There was a white one in a box, but it was marked "Sold." Still, that was a good sign, as it meant that they actually stocked what we wanted.

We milled around for half an hour, stalking the sales staff like a hunter stalks a deer. It's pretty sad when you're competing with a dozen other people for the privilege of giving your money away. Eventually we corralled someone, but she broke the bad news: There was nothing in stock; it could be ordered, but it would take even more time than Depot and the installation charge was ridiculous.

We politely declined and headed back to Canyonero. To add insult to injury, hubby begged a quarter from me to buy M & M Peanuts from a neglected-looking gumball machine at the door. I wrinkled my nose and warned him, "It doesn't look like anyone has patronized that thing in a while." In blind optimism, he plugged in the quarter and held out his hand. Into his palm dropped several broken fragments and a couple of intact but dusty pieces. Ugh! He quickly deposited the unappetizing mess into the nearest garbage bin.

We debated the merits of searching for the Appliance Direct by Florida Mall, where we'd purchased our washer and dryer, vs. checking out Best Buy. AD won out, despite the fact that we had no idea where it was. Back when we had first shopping there, we didn't know our way around and relied entirely on maps. Thus, while we knew it was near the mall and located on a street beginning with "L," we were pretty much in the dark.

After a futile search, including crossing the Railroad Tracks of Doom into some sort of deserted alternate universe, we decided to head for Best Buy. By this time, hours had literally passed and my bladder was clamoring for attention. At the very least, Best Buy would have a restroom, even if the Coveted Microwave continued to elude us.

We rolled into the parking lot, not daring to let a shard of hope slip into our exhausted minds. We located the appliances, poked around a bit, and suddenly a chorus of angels broke out in song as a heavenly light shown down upon the display. There it was! A white GE Spacemaker in all its glory!

Still, we weren't going to be drawn in so easily. Seeing it on display is not the same as actually having a boxed model in your hot little hands. We looked up at the stock, which was stacked above the displays, and lo and behold...not one, not two, but half a dozen of the suckers were up there!

We weren't out of the woods yet. Like an insidious video game in which you complete one challenge, only to find yourself facing yet another, we realized that we would have to locate a salesperson. I left hubby guarding the microwaves while I went in search of The One Who Has Power to Take Down Stock. After two unsuccessful circuits of the area, I was ready to admit defeat. But after toying with me all day, God apparently decided to show me some mercy...a sales person suddenly materialized with a cheery chorus of, "Can I help you with something today?" ringing on his lips.

I nearly tackled the poor guy and dragged him to the microwave display. Hubby looked as though he might be seeing a mirage before he finally dared to believe that our quest was over. At this point, we had decided to worry about installation later; all we wanted was to know that the replacement oven was in our possession.

FINALLY! The journey was over, or so we thought...but there was one final, inexplicable complication. Hubby's charge card was declined, even though he had used it mere hours before to pay for lunch (and it worked fine the next day). I whipped out my card to complete the transaction and we rushed out the door with our precious booty before any other disasters could befall us.

The microwave is now resting safely in the frontroom, awaiting the installer who is coming tomorrow morning (we called the same person who fixed the ceiling hole resulting from our last builder incompetence disaster, i.e. the air conditioner leak). Meanwhile, we're still living like heathens, eating meals cooked (gasp!) entirely via stovetop. Tomorrow we'll have to have a little celebration as we press the button of Spacemaker II for the very first time and return to the wonders of irradiated food.

Burning Down The House

For the second time in its relatively short history (three years), Duloc Manor has managed to escape incineration. The first time, it was an improperly installed ground outside at the meter. We noticed that our lights flashed and wavered like a disco, so we called Progress Energy. The technician took one look at the mess, cut off our power, and said that he wouldn't turn it back on until the unsafe condition was corrected by an electrician. Basically, it was a fire waiting to happen. Since this was shortly after our closing, the house was still under warranty so the builder took care of it.

In that first year, we had two other outlet problems, but nothing particularly threatening. Both were repaired under the builder's warranty, and we didn't think any more about it.

Fast forward to the present day: It's dinnertime, and Barb is innocently preparing to nuke up some Stouffers lasagna. Little does she know that's she's about to flirt with fire once again.

Actually, I suppose that we should back up 15 years or so first to examine my fire paranoia. While I've never been in a house fire (thank God!), it happens to be a particular fear of mine. I don't know its roots, although the house next door to ours burned to the ground when I was an infant. Maybe some residual memory?

I also seem to have a premonitory sense where potential blazes are concerned. I always had a bad feeling about my brother's house, and I shared it with my husband. Sure enough, that creepy old place burned. Thank goodness only my nephew and grandnephew were home, and they both made it out safely.

I also absolutely hated my husband's house, which he had purchased before we were married. Since I lived in an apartment, I moved to his place after the wedding. That awful 1970's avocado-sided nightmare gave off the worst vibes I've ever felt. I was firmly convinced that one day we would come home to a smoldering heap of cinders.

Thankfully it never burned, but it did get destroyed by a flood. While we were gone for the weekend, the upstairs toilet tank cracked. The ensuing water did so much damage that it had to be gutted, and we had to move out for three months while it was almost entirely rebuilt. Interestingly enough, when the contractor was working on the basement rec room, he said that the wiring was a fire hazard. The former owner had installed it himself and apparently had no idea what he was doing. We had to have it all redone, and we sold the house shortly thereafter.

I never got that "danger sense" in my apartment or in our condo, which we bought after fleeing the Nightmare House. I never really had it at Duloc Manor, either, even after the initial electrical problem.

But then, a month or two ago, I was sitting out back in the hot tub and gazing through the window, and I had the oddest sense. I was looking in at the family room and kitchen, and overlaid onto the scene was a mental image of what it would look like in the aftermath of a blaze. I could picture the charred, blackened interior and the jagged, broken window. Despite the 99 degree water, it chilled me to my core.

I convinced myself that I was just paranoid and that it was my old fire phobia rearing its ugly head. I never said anything to my husband, and I forced it out of my mind. The sense came over me one more time, a few days later, but once again I pushed it away.

Now, let's jump to the day before all the excitement. I popped some tuna noodle casserole into the microwave, intending to have it for lunch. As it cooked, I went upstairs to shower since I'd just returned from the barn. Oddly, I flashed on something that hadn't entered my thoughts for years. I had a very good friend whose sister lived in a trailer. One day, the sister started nuking her dinner and fell asleep while it was cooking. Somehow, the microwave caught on fire; her house was totally destroyed, and she suffered some nasty burns while trying to rescue her pets.

I thought fleetingly, "Maybe it's not such a good idea to leave the microwave while it's running." But the thought had no real power; after all, my husband and I do it all the time. We'll pop something in, then wander off to another part of the house or even out in the yard. What are the odds that something will happen? They must be infinitesimal.

Now we can jump to the present. Once again, I was preparing to nuke some food. Since my husband was out, I dug out the frozen lasagna that would serve as my evening repast. I punched in 10 minutes at 50 percent power and pressed the magic start button.

This time, I had no time to ponder the wisdom of leaving the room. Almost as soon as I turned on the microwave, it started acting funny. It popped off and on twice before finally settling down into an erratic and wavering hum. I was a little disconcerted, but when it's on 50 percent it's normal for the motor to cycle. Still, this was going beyond the norm...the light inside, and even the time display, were flashing from bright to dim and back again.

I don't panic too easily, so instead of cutting the power, I called my husband on his cell phone to get a second opinion. He tends to err on the side of caution, so his advice was, "Turn it off!" I was reluctant, as I wanted that darned lasagna! True, the microwave motor was thrumming up and down as though it was bipolar, but it didn't seem to be spewing radioactivity. I figured I could nurse it through one last cook cycle before it gave up the ghost.

Hubby was still yammering with the voice of reason in my ear, while I tried to silently will the microwave to settle down and complete its task. But its erratic behavior was getting worse, and at this point my husband was urging me to turn it off and pull out the plug. "But I don't know where the outlet is," I lamented. He explained that it was in the upper cabinet, so I pulled up a chair and climbed up to locate it.

When I opened the cabinet door, the outlet was spewing blue sparks like a mini fireworks show gone terribly awry. There was no need for further discussion...I slammed that Off button with every ounce of strength in my index finger! Then I tried to pull out the plug, which was eerily hot to the touch, but it wouldn't come out. I felt the faceplate, and that was hot, too, as was the wall above it. Not good.

My husband instructed me to pull the circuit breaker; it bothered me that it hadn't tripped on its own, but I dutifully ran upstairs to cut the power. Then I cautiously approached the outlet, which was still quite hot. I decided to open it in case anything might be smouldering inside.

Once I had the thing dismantled, I realized just how closely I had flirted with disaster. The outlet had suffered a catastrophic meltdown, and I mean melt literally. The plug wouldn't come out because the heat had melded it to the socket. The wires and melted plastic were blackened by scorch marks, and the whole thing had a nasty burned odor. Thank God I had opened the cabinet door; the timer still had five minutes to go, and by that time I think there would have been a blaze in the wall.

I shivered, realizing just how close my vision of a blackened kitchen had come to reality. Believe me, if another appliance ever starts acting erractically, I'll turn it off first and ask questions later. The lasagna that had once been so important was now a half-thawed, forgotten lump.

For the third time this year, I pulled out the papers for our extended home warranty. I'm sure the company rues the day that they ever offered us coverage. First it was the leaking air conditioner pipe, then a broken dishwasher pump. Now, it will be an electrician. I said a silent prayer of thanks that we had purchased the coverage. If we hadn't, I can't even imagine how much we would have racked up in repairs this year.

I also said a prayer thanking God for averting disaster. I don't know if my premonitions were some sort of warning, but I do know that if this had happened just one day earlier, I would have been in the shower and the blaze would almost surely have taken hold. I can't even imagine walking downstairs to a fiery kitchen disaster.

It will be interesting to hear what the electrician says. It seems to me that the circuit breaker should have tripped, so I wonder if there is a more fundamental problem than just a faulty outlet. Between this and the other electrical faults that cropped up right after closing, I wonder if our wiring was done by someone who was either drunk or suffering from a massive hangover.

Oh well, the important thing is that my vision didn't come to pass. As scary as it was, at least the meltdown is safely over now. And perhaps it was meant to happen the way that it did...if the outlet had to fry, at least it occurred when someone was right in front of it.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Here in Celebration and the surrounding environs, signs of the holiday season are springing up like the weeds that love to invade my flower beds. Halloween was barely upon us before the first Christmas decorations popped up in store windows. Of course, it was the same in Chicago, but here we have an extra layer: The holiday tourist attractions. Driving by the Gaylord Palms hotel, our eyes were assailed with the giant "ICE!" sign. Ads are everywhere for the Dixie Stampede's special Christmas show.

At Disney World, the switch was thrown on Monday for the annual Osborne light extravaganza. This year, playing on last's year viral internet sensation (the video of the house with lights choreographed to Trans Siberian Orchestra music), Disney's lights are now dancing. The millions of twinkling bulbs will now perform to musical strains. That should be really cool...for about five minutes. I hope they have a plan in place for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder treatment for the poor Cast Members who are subjected to it for hours at a stretch.

I am dying to see the Osborne lights, so one of these evenings I am going to play hooky from my online counseling work and run over to see them. But my favorte Disney activity doesn't start until after Thanksgiving: The Candlelight Processional. It's a beautiful retelling of the Christmas story by a celebrity narrator, with a live band and wonderful, stirring music sung by a chorus of cast members and high school students.

This year, there are several narrators who I would like to see. We saw Gary Sinise before, but I wouldn't mind a repeat performance. I'd love to see Cuba Gooding Jr.'s debut this year, as well as Neil Patrick Harris (although I wonder if the Christian fundamentalists who get so bent out of shape over Gay Days will be there to protest because an openly gay person would dare to tell the Christmas story...they seem to forget that Jesus was all about love and acceptance).

In conjunction with the Processional, I love to stick around for the special holiday version of Illuminations. At the end, they do a special show to the strains of "Let There Be Peace on Earth," capped with an explosion of fireworks that literally shakes the ground. Breathtaking!

'Round about that time, it will start snowing nightly here in Celebration. I just love that event...I walk downtown almost every night to marvel at the spectacle of kids swarming Market Street to play in the soapy pseudo-snowflakes. There is something about it that underscores why I chose to move to Celebration. It's just so touristy and surreal and cool. I live in the place that people go out of their way to visit! I can see the snowfall every single night! How cool is that?

For two years, I've been miffed that when Lexin took over from Disney, they changed the musical accompaniment and eliminated "Merry Christmas Everyone" by Shakin' Stevens. It was the perfect song...I mean, look at the first few lines:

Snow is falling all around me, children playing, having fun,
It's the season, love and understanding, merry Christmas everyone,
Time for parties and celebration...

Time for Celebration, indeed! Oh well, this year I have an MP3 player, so while everyone else is subjected to the tinny strains of the lame current line-up, my ears will be filled with the appropriate tune.

But while it looks like Christmas in the populated environs, it's hard to tell that we're only two weeks away from December out in Lake Louisa State Park. Back in Illinois, I would be counting the last precious days of horseback riding before ice and snow make the trails too trecherous and the wind chill factor drops below the tolerance point. Here in Florida, this is prime riding time! Nice and cool, and virtually no bugs, at least as compared to the swarms in the sweltering summertime.

I'm sure that the trees are skeletal by now in the Cook County Forest Preserve District where I used to ride. Out here, there are a few seasonal skeletons, but the stately pines are still shrouded in green and the ground cover is dotted with flowers and berries in goreous shades of white, yellow, pink, purple and red. The orange groves are dotted with brightly colored bounty. In Florida, winter doesn't make an end, but rather a beginning...the kick-off of the prime riding season. I've already had Figment out for a couple of four and a half hour jaunts. Poor horse! Little does he know that it's just a taste of many long winter journeys to come.

Once Thanksgiving comes, the time-speed will kick into warp gear and Christmas will be here in the blink of an eye. Every year, I can help but feel melancholy on December 26th...such a massive build-up, and then the rug is jerked out from under you. No more Peace on Earth and Goodwill Towards Men, just back to the humdrum regular rythmn of life. But that's okay, as I suspect that the wait won't be nearly as long for next year. Since Christmas started before Halloween this year, I'm laying my bets that we can stretch is to as early as Labor Day in 2007...and maybe even kick it off in tandem with 4th of July in 2008!