Toys at Sea

This morning I headed out to the Disney Wonder, not to embark on my 62nd cruise (that won't happen till next month), but rather to see the premier of "Toy Story: The Musical."

Actually it wasn't a premiere in the pure sense, since the show's been on board for a couple of weeks now. But it was new to me, and I was anxious to see what had replaced the long-running "Hercules," which had been a staple since the Magic was launched in 1998.

In all of our cruises, we've watched shows come and go; now only one, "Disney Dreams," remains from the beginning, and it was revamped/upgraded recently. Thankfully, the changes were all improvements. They added laser effects, spiffed up the flying, and added Pumba and Timon to the "Lion King" number.

"Disney Dreams" is the signature show, so I can't imagine they would ever change it too drastically. It's a real heartstring-tugger, aimed specifically at the Disney fanatics (such as myself) who make up the majority of their cruisers. It has numbers from such classics as Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast. The Little Mermaid (my favorite number), Aladdin, and Lion King. They're woven around the plotline of a little girl's dream: she wants to fly to the place where dreams come true, but she can only do it by finding her own magic. Fortunately, the Blue Fairy sends Peter Pan to help.

I've seen it so many times that I skip it occasionally now, but my husband never misses it when we sail. Since he's caught some matinees, as well as the regular evening showing, he's probably seen it over 65 times.

The other two original offerings in 1998 were "Hercules," which, as I mentioned, was just retired, and "Voyage of the Ghost Ship." Herc was very corny and didn't make much sense if you never saw the movie, but I still liked it. Hades, Pain and Panic always stole the show. There was some opportunity for ad-libbing, so they kept it fresh by continually updating many of the jokes.

Ghost Ship didn't last too long; it had one revamping, then was pulled altogether and replaced with "The Golden Mickeys." It was kind of dark and had no Disney characters at all; I think those two things played against it. It's a shame it wasn't released later, as with a little tweaking it could have been changed to take advantage of the current Pirate Fever. But alas, it was ahead of its time, and now it's merely the answer to a Disney Cruise Line trivia question.

I like "The Golden Mickeys," which has the theme of an awards show hosted by a relucant backstage hand. The best part is that it features Roy Disney and old-time footage of his uncle Walt. It's rare that you see Walt brought into a show; I love the connection and find it very touching. For a brief time, Whoopi Goldberg replaced Roy as the on-screen co-host, but thankfully he was restored to his rightful place in the show.

I'm probably partial to Golden Mickeys because it features two of my favorite, Stitch and Cruella, plus you've gotta love it when a giant Ursula sticks her giant tentacles almost literally into the first row.

The Magic also has "Twice Charmed," which is probably my current favorite. It's a twist on the Cinderella story, with Lady Tremaine and the wicked stepsisters appealing to their wicked fairy godfather Franco to help them set things "right." He sends them back in time and shrinks poor Cindy to mouse size. I love the masterful blending of drop-screens with the live action, and Franco's big dance number on a lighting staircase (think the sidewalk in "Billy Jean") is phenomenal. Sadly, since we usually sail on the Wonder, I only get to see "Twice Charmed" once or twice a year.

There was once another show called Cest Magique, which then morphed into Morty the Magnificent, but I think it had an even shorter run than Ghost Ship. Personally I liked the first version, but like Ghost Ship it didn't have Disney characters. It was very Cirque de Soliel-like, which apparently just didn't fly with the audiences. The Morty incarnation featured a plot of sorts, as well as Mickey Mouse, but it just never caught on.

Now comes the latest offering: "Toy Story: The Musical." It already has one big thing going for it...it's based on one of the most popular Pixar movies. People always break into hysterical applause at the Toy Story number in Golden Mickeys, so this will give them a bigger dose.

I like the movie, although not nearly as much as my favorite Pixar flick, "The Incredibles." I'm a huge Syndrome fan and love the movie's commentary on the dumbing down of America, with memorable quotes like "When everyone is super, no one is" and "Everyone's special means that no one is." Toy Store has no such heavy philisophical undertone, save for the importance of friendship.

The shipboard Toy Story is an almost completely faithful adaptation of the flick. Obviously, some concessions had to be made for staging it in a limited timeframe and a relatively small area. But I have to hand it to DCL's creative team...they pulled it off much better than I ever imagined they could.

Toy Story takes the use of screens and sets to new heights. It's tricky transitioning from the full-sized human world down to the toy world, but the screens allow it to happen flawlessly, as well as to facilitate scene changes. Most of the scenes take place from the toys' perspective, although Andy and Sid do make their appearances (and you hear Spud barking frequently offstage).

There were some pyrotechnics too (of course there would have to be, considering that Sid plays a major role in the plot), but I was actually even more impressed with Buzz's spaceship. He makes quite an interest! You'll feel the same sense of awe that Andy's playthings do as they gather round.

One thing that distracted me when I originally saw photos of the show was that the various toys are not to the same scale as they are in the movie. For example, Rex is smaller and slinky dog is bigger in comparison to Woody and Buzz. But you pretty much have to chalk that up to the limitations of the stage. Even tho' I am rather anal retentive, I quit noticing the size thing pretty early on. Instead, I was drawn into marvelling at the costumes. You really think you're looking at characters right off the screen. You'll see Slinky Dog, Rex, Ham, and Mr. Potato Head, as well as the green soldiers and monkey from the barrel. The monkeys were the only ones that didn't work for me. Their costumes are orange cloth, which just doesn't jibe with the look of the toy. If you're not familiar with the movie, you might be hard pressed to guess what they are at first.

Woody, Buzz, and Bo Peep are "face" characters, as are (obviously) Andy and Sid. Woody and Buzz were both great in their roles, but the Sid was the total scene stealer. He's much more wicked and depraved in the play than in the movie, and he considers himself an artist of destruction. He brims with manic energy, and his songs are a total riot. I am a big villian fan, and this show gave me a whole new appreciation for Sid. In the final bows, he (or perhaps I should say "she," since he's played by a woman) got some of the loudest clapping and cheers.

The toys in Sid's room are recreated as faithfully as those in Andy's. I marveled at the staging of this show and said a silent prayer that it won't turn into a technical nightmare. But everything worked smoothly at the premiere, and the pace of the show made it seem to fly by.

The only effects that didn't really "work" for me were the first two times that Buzz tries to fly. If you're familiar with the movie, you'll recall that in his first attempt he makes a spectacular showing thanks to a Hot Wheels car and skateboard. The second time, in Sid's house, he jumps off a railing and his not successful, falling and breaking off his arm.

Obviously, skateboards and railings and the like are not too easy to show on stage. The way it's handled just didn't look genuine due to the limitations. I promise you won't be disappointed at the end when Woody and Buzz are launched with the rocket tho'.

You also can't help but love the little green alien dolls in the claw machine. Next to Sid, they were my second favorite thing. I could tell by the reaction of the audience members around me that virtually everyone in the theater shared my opinion.

Overall it's a cute show, and even if you don't like "cute," you can't help but marvel at the technical aspects. I'm looking forward to our next cruise in May so I can see it again and catch all the little details I most likely missed.

It will also be interesting to see if the Toy Story number in the Golden Mickeys is replaced in the near future or if the two with co-exist. I suspect the latter, since Toy Story isn't on the Magic so it's their only dose of Woody.

After the show, it was very difficult to drag myself off the ship. Since I, along with the rest of the crowd, were only there to see the show, we had to disembark immediately once it was over. As I headed down the gangplank, I could see the lucky cruisers milling around in the terminal, eager to begin their "wonder"ful weekend. How I would have liked to join them! But work and responsibility awaited me, so I reluctantly boarded the bus for home.

Oh well, next time I see it I won't have to worry about disembarking so quickly. And even though it will be cruise #62, I'll have yet another new (well, mostly new) thing to look forward to.

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The Monsoons Continue

It looks like the rainy season has come to Florida early this year. In a continuation of yesterday's wet and wild weather, today featured almost non-stop downpours too. There was a lull in the morning that allowed us to grab some hot tub time, but it started raining midway through our soak and we just got out in time to avoid the thunder and lightning.

I've been feeling very theme park-deprived lately, but it wasn't a good day to even remotely consider a Disney or Universal jaunt. Well, actually we did go to Disney, but it was to enjoy a delicious dinner at Artist Point rather braving any of the parks.

Although we would have loved Ohana, getting reservations there is only slightly less difficult than finding a really good episode of "South Park" in the last two seasons. We can usually get into Artist Point or Jiko; hubby was dead set on the former, since he had a taste for mussels and their nectar-of-the-gods cream of mushroom soup.

I called WDW-DINE and managed to secure a 6 p.m. reservation. We figured that if we could just make it through the waterfall pouring down the back door stoop and into the Family Truckster, we'd have it made. It's a pretty easy jaunt to the Wilderness Lodge; turn at the second start on the right (or more realistically at World Drive) and go straight on till morning, or at least till you hit the Magic Kingdom parking toll booth.

We dashed out to the car and sloshed down the sodden streets, heading towards our culinary reward. Thankfully we have a Disney Dining Experience card, which gives us valet parking. Even with a few bucks for the tip, it's well worth not having to swim from the nether reaches of the tourist-clotted parking lot to the hotel.

The card also gives you 20 percent off your bill, including alcohol. There's an annual fee involved, but if you're a frequent diner at the Disney restaurants it quickly pays for itself. There was some controversy this year because when when you use your DDE card, an 18 percent gratuity is automatically slapped on your tab. I'm not really sure why it caused so much trauma; we tip 20 percent for good service anyway. But apparently many people were tipping on the discounted amount vs. the true bill, so this is a way to ensure that the servers get a fair tip.

The restaurant was more crowded than usual, which hubby attributed to the fact that everyone had been driven back to their hotels from the theme parks, meaning they all needed somewhere convenient to eat. We were seated at a nice window table for two that was out of the main thoroughfare, which we enjoyed. We watched the downpour from our cozy little spot, sipping our favorite drinks. Hubby's is wine, while I always get something called the Northern Exposure. I think it contains vodka, amaretto, kahlau, and a splash of Coca Cola. Sounds weird, but it's delicious.

We split a cheese plate, then he had the mussels while I (of course) had the soup; I kindly deigned to share some with him, not so much out of the goodness of my heart as in hopes of saving room for dessert.

For dinner he had cedar plank salmon, while I indulged in a new choice: the chicken. I usually stick with appetizers, but on this evening I was in the mood for a meal. I was a bit concerned because the menu said that the sauce contains anise. I know most people view it as a tasty seasoning, but to me it's a flavor created to torture my tastebuds. Still, I can take it in small doses so I thought I would live on the edge and trying something different.

The chicken turned out to be delicious. It was so moist and tender, and although I could taste the anise it was just one of a panoply of flavors. Hubby loved his salmon, but I knew that he would since that is one of his "regulars" at Artist Point. We're both counting the days when they start serving Copper River Salmon this summer; it has a very short season, but it is oh so good.

I managed to save room for something sweet. Eschewing the menu, I asked instead for a scoop of each of the three ice creams/sorbets they offer with several of the dessert items. I had blackberry sorbet, pear sorbet, and honey lavendar ice cream that actually reminded me of the honey coated friend ice cream at Chi Chi's. Ah....memories!

By the time we left, the rain had slacked off only slightly and I was glad that we'd taken the valet option. Soon the Truckster was rolling up to the entrance, and we climbed in and basked in the pleasant glow of alcohol and a good meal for a moment before heading back to Celebration.

I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty in my happiness. All around us at the hotel were sad vacationers who'd pretty much lost two days of their trips to rain. I remember how frustrating that used to be back when I was a Chicagoan for whom Disney was still a remote treat, not just one of a cornacopia of everyday options.

Yes, I still have empathy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to leave Florida and return to their position any time soon. Instead, as we whizzed down World Drive, I basked in the pleasure of knowing that when the sunshine finally returned to give legitamcy to Florida's nickname, I would still be here and able to pop over to the theme parks at my leisure. Rain or shine, it's great to live next door to Disney World, and I don't think the novelty will ever wear off.

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Monsoons and Missing Bookstores

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, the perfect kind to go to Universal...except that the radar said that rainstorms were coming. Instead hubby and I decided to have a nice lunch at Chevy's and go seek out Books-A-Million. I knew that one is supposed to be coming to The Loop (not the Chicago Loop...a shopping center in Hunters Creek), and I was wondering if it had opened yet.

Hubby looked it up on their corporate website and couldn't find anything out there, but he did find one out towards Universal. That's Outlet Store Land, and I did NOT want to visit an outlet bookstore; he called them, and they assured him that they were a full-fledged store.

It's been ages since I've been to a Books-A-Million. We had one in Chicago, but that one was an outlet. I was hoping this one would be more traditional, as I've run out of true crime books to read and I also wanted to paw through their magazines to get some ideas for new freelance writing markets.

Hubby plotted out the address on Google Maps and we set out on what we thought would be a rather run of the mill shopping trip. We fueled ourselves at Chevy's first; I had my usual combo plate of seafood enchilada, pork tamale, and taquitos. They recently sent out coupons, so that made it all the better. Then we headed off towards Dr. Phillips, where we'd pick up I-Drive at Sand Lake Road. I knew that it would be traffic hell, but such is the sacrifice you make to live in Tourist Land.

Unfortunately, the rain decided to come with a vengence. In Florida, heavy rain is indescribable compared to anything I've ever experienced in Chicago. It's not just a downpour but a veritable wall of rain that obscures everything but a tiny glint of the tail lights of the car in front of you. The windshield looks as though the troops of Heaven are slinging endless buckets of water at your car. Being caught in a monsoon in the middle of tourist traffic is not fun.

As we headed down I-Drive towards Kirkland, I said to hubby, "Watch some idiot go running out in front of the cars." Sure enough, Brainless Tourist came zipping out and nearly got splattered by the cars in front of me. Oh well, even if he'd been struck, the downpour would have washed the asphalt clean of his blood in mere minutes.

It took some maneuvering and confusion, but we finally found the strip mall where Books-A-Million was supposedly located. There was no sign whatsoever, but hubby had the address in hand so we slowly circled the lot. Squinting through the downpour, he exclaimed, "There it is!", pointed to a huge abandoned store. Indeed, the address matched...but how could he have talked to them on the phone just an hour or so earlier? There's no way they could have cleared out a store that size so quickly, especially in the driving rain.

He rang them up again, and they told him they had moved (thanks, Books-A-Million Webmaster, for keeping your site so wonderfully up to date). Armed with a new set of directions, we set off into traffic hell once again, although the rain was still smothering the hellfires with its vicious onslaught.

At one red light, we encountered a blue Mustang that decided it absolutely HAD to get in front of us in the right lane, despite the fact that there was literally no one behind us. This was not a good time to challenge me; I might have had mercy if there wasn't a whole open lane behind me, but the aggressive little idiot inching his way over in an open challenge wasn't exactly endearing himself to me. Perhaps he thought I was some wimpy rental car driver afraid to get a dent because I resisted the insurance coverage hardsell. Sadly, I didn't have my neon "Local! BEWARE!" sign hooked up in the side window, so I simply made sure that if he kept coming over, he was going to hit me and end up paying a pretty big whiplash settlement. Eventually he gave up and moved in behind the Family Truckster, pouting the whole way.

We pulled into the area where Books-A-Million was supposedly located, but alas, there was no sign of anything other than dubious-looking "flea markets." Hubby hadn't bothered to ask for the address, so we drove around in rain, trying to avoid the drowned-rat pedestrians who kept popping out from between parked cars like some bizarre video game. He called the store back, but couldn't make heads or tails out of their new directions. Thankfully he got an address this time, but it only brought more confusion. They told him, "If you get to Kirkman, you've gone too far," yet their address was on Kirkman.

At this point, I was ready to choke someone, but hubby was decidedly more mellow since he had indulged in a margarita at lunch. My mood was not improved when we went the wrong way on Kirkman and ended up at Lockheed Martin. In getting out of there, we somehow literally ended up back where we started, on freakin' Sand Lake Road. Arghhhhhh!

At this point hubby was ready to call it quits, but there was no way that I was letting an hour of driving in a downpour go to waste. Better yet, our gas was getting low; I figured that a plague of grasshoppers would be next.

We made it back to Kirkman, although hubby had me turn the wrong way again. I managed to make a U-turn before we got trapped at Lockheed Martin again, and we finally managed to get pointed in the right direction. At this point, I'd begun to suspect that it was actually this store rather than the Fountain of Youth that Ponce deLeon had been seeking when he came to Florida. He only changed the object of his quest when he spent so long seeking it that he realized he'd become an octegenarian in his lengthy pursuit.

Finally! We found the freakin' bookstore. When I first caught sight of the Books-A-Million sign, I swear I heard angels singing in the background. We sprinted through the front door and into a huge netherworld of books, ringed by a magazine section that spanned the entire back wall.

Sadly, they were out of the one magazine I wanted most, but they had plenty of others for me to paw through. Better yet, their True Crime section encompassed three whole shelves! Sadly, I still already had the majority of the books, but I found almost a dozen new ones (which, at my rate of reading, will last a couple of weeks). Hubby found some sort of Nascar magazine that put him in a coma of happiness. We had some coffee to soothe our nerves, and the barrista informed hubby that the store was moving yet again in the near future! He also said that Hunters Creek hasn't opened yet and it will still be a while.

I won't even document the journey home, except to say that I-4 in a monsoon adds a hellaciousness factor of x100 to its usual horror. But at least I had my precious bounty of magazines and books packed safely in the Family Truckster. It had been a challenge to get them, but we'd found the elusive Books-A-Million and lived to tell the tale. After making it through that mess, I think we're ready to tackle a trip to find the Holy Grail!

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A Mouse Farts and Fox Orlando Is There

One of my guilty pleasures is watching the courtroom shows like Judge Judy and the People's Court. I've been a fan ever since the days of Judge Wapner, so when we moved to Florida and I discovered there is a solid block on from 3 p.m. to 7 p.m. I was estatic. I work at home, so I can run my businesses with my favorite shows playing in the background.

Unfortunately the first half of the block, from 3 to 5 p.m., is on Fox Orlando. I say unfortunately because this is a channel that breaks into programming for extended tedious news coverage whenever a mouse farts anywhere in the state of Florida. I've never seen a station that will manufacture news out of the most innocuous happening just so they can break into their shows. The news woman must be desperate for airtime, but sadly the viewers are not desperate to see her. For God's sake, Lady, wait until the News at 5!

Better yet, often there will be a news story that is long over, but the intrepid news team will still break in to give totally unnecessary updates, presumably because they enjoy hearing the sound of their own voices and believe that all of Orlando shares that love.

The weatherman seems to be jealous as he takes any opportunity to grab his own extended break-in coverage. My favorite was when a tornado struck in Cocoa Beach recently. It was over quickly and only did minor damage, and no one was hurt. But Fox News broken in for over an hour, till I finally got disgusted with the weatherman's obvious love of his computer mouse. He endlessly toggled back and forth between Google Earth and the radar maps, intoning the same news over and over again, which boiled down to: Tornado touchdown. Minor damage. No one hurt. This takes more than an hour to report?

Sadly, today both the newswoman and the weatherman managed to break into my court shows for non-events. First it was Breaking News, even tho' it was well past 4 p.m. and the "news" had occurred somewhere around noon. A suspicious person with equally suspicious luggage was arrested at Orlando airport. Okay, it's long over. Nobody was hurt. But Fox still saw fit to break in, hours later, for some reason I still haven't figured out.

This obviously piqued the weatherman's jealousy, as less than an hour later he had to break in with this stunning information: A thunderstorm is over an unpopulated area. Ooooo, scary! Nothing special about the storm. Nothing special about the fact that the rest of Florida is probably going to get storms later. But the newswoman got extra coverage, so he had to grasp at straws to make sure he got his fair share. I can just imagine his glee when he spotted that red dot on the radar:

"A storm! A storm! This warrants a break into programming! Yeah, it's not threatening anybody, and yeah, storms are a commonplace part of Florida life, but I didn't get my extra-special camera time today so I'm going to run with it. Now let's see, can I fit in a reference to that tornado touchdown in Cocoa a couple months ago? If so, maybe I can leverage that into playing with the radar and Google Earth on air for an hour or two."

Happily, it's back to the court shows now, and in another few minutes I'll be switching to another block on a channel that doesn't share Fox Orlando's obsession with constant break-ins (although ironically I think it's actually owned by Fox too).

But in the meantime, if a leaf falls anywhere within 500 miles of Orlando, I can rest assured that when I'm tuned to "People's Court" I'll be the first to hear about it.

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Lizard Soup

Apparently our hot tub is some sort of Futurama-esque suicide booth for amphibians and reptiles. As we headed out to lunch, we had no idea that suicidal little critters were lurking. Since it was Friday, we decided to take a break from our respective jobs and have a nice luncheon at Chevy's. They are a wonderful combo platter with a steak taco, chicken taquitos, and a seafood enchilada to which I am totally addicted.

Even though it's technically the start of the weekend, we resisted the temptation for a margarita indulgence and stuck with iced tea. My combo plate was delicious, as always; it's a limited time special, so I live in fear of the day they retire it. I love the taquitos, but they're not a regular menu item.

Granted, Chevy's isn't authentic Mexican, but if you go in knowing that it's actually a wonderful restaurant. We go there several times a month and never get tired of it. I suppose that's not surprising, since we were the same way with Chi's Chi's back in Illinois. Ah, I still miss their Enchilada Cozumel, stuffed to the gills with fake crab meet and smothered in some sort of yummy white sauce. Chevy's seafood enchilada is very different, with real crab, shrimp, and a green sauce that ranges from tangy to downright fire-breathing, depending on the chef's mood. I always get a side order of sour cream to tame it down.

One of my favorite memories of Chi Chi's is going out for dinner and margaritas with a group of co-workers. We conspired to secretly tell the servers that it was one person's birthday, even though it wasn't, just to see her horror at suddenly being surrounded, forced to wear a giant sombrero, and being serenaded with an off-key celebratory song. It taught her totally off guard, but she actually handled it with good grace (perhaps the accompanying free order of fried ice cream helped).

My husband and I frequented the local Chi Chi's from the time we started dating until it finally closed its doors. I guess I'm not the only one who misses it; click this link for a blog devoted solely to creepy abandoned Chi Chi's buildings.

The closures were due to a bankruptcy filing, following on the heels of an unfortunate Hepatitis outbreak (although I think it was actually the fault of a supplier). But even tho' it's not quite the same, Chevy's still makes a worthy substitute.

After our meal, we decided to take a dip in the hot tub before returning to work. The tub has had some mechanical issues lately, so we haven't been using it as much as usual. Now it looks like everything is sorted out and it's back in good working order, so we donned our swim wear and hopped in.

We were just entering a state of relaxation when I pointed and asked, "What's that?" at a big, yellowing blob bobbing on the water's surface.

Hubby said, "It's a leaf...no, wait, it's a dead lizard!"

My mind immediately went "Ugh!" as I recalled the time that a dead frog had created a rather gross mess. Apparently it jumped in the path of the cover just before we closed it; by the time we reopening it a few days later, the unfortunate little critter was in a nasty state of decomposition.

But as hubby flailed frantically atthe lizard, trying to splash it out of the tub, I noticed its head move. "It's alive!" I yelled. "Grab it!"

Hubby is not big on amphibians and reptiles, so there was no way he was going to touch the poor little thing. I grabbed it and cupped it gingerly in my palm. Sure enough, it was blinking and hyperventilating to beat the band but it was indeed alive.

I held it as it recovered its composure, then released it onto the edge of the hot tub. It took a while to regain its whits, but finally it departed for locations unknown.

I knew that it couldn't have been in the rub for long, although I have no idea why it would leap into hot, bubbling waters unless it was suicidal. Oh well, hopefully I'd given in a new lease on life. I settled back, snuggled against the jets, and trying to return to relaxation.

A few minutes later, hubby pointed at me and yelled, "Frog!" I glanced at the side of the tub, where a plump green mini-frog was hanging next to me, apparently considering a leap into oblivion. I managed to scare him away, and fortunately we weren't bothered by any additional depressed wildlife before the end of our soak.

In pondering the situation later, I realized that the lizard probably wasn't too serious in his attempt. A truly suicidal member of his species would have paraded in front of the neighbor's cat, Pearl, which would have virtually guaranteed a gory demise.

In the meantime, we've popped in a bit of extra chlorine to combat the lizard soup, but I think we might have to add a sign for the local reptilian and amphibian critters: "Warning! No Lifeguard on Duty."

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Spring Sneaking Up

One odd thing about living in the State of Eternal Sunshine is that without clearly defined seasons the year seems to fly by at lightspeed.

Back in Chicago, the bleak, gray days of winter seemed to drag on forever. The span from December to March seemed to last for at least a year. Here in Florida, we have a few cold snaps but nothing too wicked or consistent. Thus it's already March, with Easter looming just around the corner, and my mind can barely comprehend that Christmas is over.

One good thing about spring is that I can plant flowers without worrying that they will succumb to one of the rare but deadly sub-freezing cold snaps. My yard has been barren, but recently I bought a few flowers to start the springtime spruce-up. As the warmth increases, I'll keep adding until I have a rainbow blooming in my yard.

The days are also slowly but surely getting longer, but I'm still reeling from the return to Daylight Savings Time. Between that and a propensity for drinking coffee late into the night, I've been wide awake at 2 a.m. and barely conscious at 10 the next morning. Since I'm self employed and don't have a tight schedule to follow, it's that much harder to get back onto a "normal" schedule. I've always been a night owl anyway, so all it takes is the smallest excuse to get me back into a noctural rhythm.

My husband is a night owl, too, although he has to keep to a tighter schedule for work. The cats have always been readily adaptable. As long as they're near at least one human, they don't care what that human is doing as long as there is a warm body they can snuggle against. It can be on the couch, on a chair, or in the bed...they're not fussy.

Truman the Quaker Parrot started off downright narcoleptic, but he too has adapted to the household schedule. Now he stays up late, then crawls into his Happy Hut and sleeps like a dead thing until 9 a.m. or later. Once he's in the hut, he's downright comatose. But I'm glad that he stays up longer now; when we first bought him, he'd go to bed promptly at 5 p.m. What's the good of having a pet bird if it spends most of its time as an unconscious lump of green feathers?

Spring is continuing its relentless march forward, and summer is just around the corner. In Chicago, it would mean a transition from the threat of snow to balmy weather to heat, but here in Florida it's simply a change from warm to hot to ultra hot. And that's the way I like it.

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Mickey's Backyard Barbeque

Over the years, hubby and I have done virtually every Disney experience possible. We've seen the Hawaiian luau, piloted Segways through Epcot, viewed Illuminations from a pontoon, eaten at the Hoop-De-Doo Review dinner show, driven a golf cart around Fort Wilderness, and taken a horse-drawn carriage ride around the grounds of the Port Orleans Resort.

One thing we've never gotten around to was Mickey's Backyard Barbeque. I've seen blurbs about it on the internet, and it's always sounded intriguing, but it's one of those things we've never quite gotten around to. Thus I was quite pleased when a friend asked if we'd like to join her at the barbeque this weekend.

She and her husband were sailing on the Disney Magic with another couple who we also know. On the day of their return, they thought it would be nice to cap a week at sea with a Disney dinner show. We were pleased at the prospect of seeing the other couple again, since they live out of state, and looking forward to a new Disney experience.

Our reservations were made, so it was simply a matter of meeting up in the Fort Wilderness campground parking lot at the appointed time. The barbeque is held on the opposite side of the campground, so you have to park and catch a bus. Although the picnic pavillion doesn't open until six, we wanted to allow plenty of time to catch the bus and perhaps to wander around a bit and check out the nearby store.

On the appointed day, as I was shaving my legs in the shower, I somehow managed to chop my wrist with the razor. I'm not quite sure how it slipped, but I looked like a failed suicide with two neat slices (one from each blade) just below my hand. They were superficial cuts, but the kind that bleed and sting like mad, and they were too long for a bandaid. Thus I rubber banded a folded paper towel in the appropriate spot; I figured that everyone would peg me as an escapee from the suicide watch ward. The double irony is that I am a counselor! But heck, there's no way that I would off myself before I got my Mickey Bar.

Fort Wilderness is an easy jaunt down World Drive, but I managed to shoot past the turn-off and we had to make a U-turn at the Contemporary. But we managed to arrive at the appointed time, and our friends were already waiting. As we walked to the bus stop, I could smell the pungent Eau de Equine, since the stop is right next to the Tri-Circle D Ranch, which offers trail rides. To me, as a horse owner, it's actually a very comforting smell but I don't know just how appetizing it was to the others heading over to dinner.

After a short bus ride, we located the pavillion; then it was off for a restroom stop and some browsing before returning to get in line. Since the seating is first-come-first-served at picnic tables, it's good to get there early if you want to be close to the stage.

First, your photo is snapped for a souvenir shot that you can buy later. Then you join the line, where cast members hand out lemonade, punch, and beer to make the wait go by more quickly. Several of the characters came out to greet everyone, so the time passed quickly and before we know it, it was 6 p.m. and the pavillion was opened. Because we were close to the front of the line, we had our pick of tables and selected a spot near the stage where we'd have a perfect view of the show. Basically it consists of music, singing, dancing, and a trick roping demonstration, all punctuated with a great deal of character interaction.

The characters were still out and milling around, so we got some great snapshots even before dinner was served. Goofy, Chip, and Dale were all hamming it up and interacting with the guests as everyone got settled into their places.

Below are a few character shots, taken at various points throughout the evening:







The hosts, Tumbleweed and Saspirilla Sal, gave a little introduction, and the buffet lines opened around 6:15. There was a hearty spread of salad, cole slaw, potato salad, chicken, ribs, hot dogs, burgers, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, corn on the cob, and utterly delicious corn bread. For dessert, there were watermelon slices, Mickey ice cream bars, and a variety of other frozen treats. It was pretty tasty, considering that it was picnic food. I was very pleasantly surprised, especially by the mac and cheese. The buffet remains open for two hours, so you can graze later if you choose to. Personally, I was so stuffed after Round One that there was no way I could have had anymore, but hubby did grab another burger and Mickey bar halfway through the evening.

Plenty of beverages are also available, including all-you-can-drink beer and wine, which made my hubby's eyes light up in delight. Although he's not a big drinker, he has developed a fondness for wine. Unlimited availability often tempts him into one of his rare but amusing bouts of inebriation. Since there were three types of wine available, he had to try them all...and then had to try some more...thank goodness I was the designated driver!

The show is a little pricey by Disney standards, but once I had experienced it I could see that you're pretty much paying for the unlimited alcohol and the character interaction as well as for the show. Overall it was definitely worth it.

This show is a good one for families with wiggly kids that don't like sitting still. Much of the time is spent with everyone out on the dance floor cutting the rug with the characters. Mickey and Minnie joined the others, and besides dancing they spent some time visiting with the people still sitting at the tables. They didn't just visit with the kids either; they stopped by several times at our adult table, and we got some wonderful shots. This was probably one of the best character interaction opportunities I've seen.

Granted, Disney has character meals but they're usually rather rushed as they go from table to table, under pressure to make it to everyone. At the barbeque, it's more laid back because they are out on the dance floor, literally dancing with guests, and they also take opportunities to visit with those who aren't up and about. The whole thing just seemed a lot more relaxed, and watching them dance with little kids and cut up with the gyrating crowd made it seem like a much higher quality of interaction.

In the midst of all the dancing, Travis the trick roper put on a nice little show with his lasso. It was very impressive! We had a perfect view, since our table was right up along the dance floor where he performed.



The band was really good too. My favorite was "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," as I am a big violin/fiddle fan, and it takes a lot of talent to do that one right.

The whole experience lasted a little over two hours, although I noticed many people leaving earlier. That's another reason that this experience is good for those with kids in tow. If the kids get restless or cranky, it's very easy to leave. You will miss some of the dancing, but if you've had your meal and the young un's have already spent plenty of time with the characters, overall you're not missing out on a lot.

There was a patriotic finale at the end, with all the characters parading around the dance floor and then posing together for a final photo op:



The hosts lingered for a bit at the end, so I managed to grab a quick picture with them:



I have to admit that I liked this show much more than the Hoop De Doo Revue. Hoop De Doo is cute, but it doesn't have the characters and the audience stays seated because it's all a stage show. There is some limited audience participation, but nothing like the backyard barbeque! Mickey's Backyard Barbeque is very energetic and much more interactive; I can imagine that for some of the children who got the chance to dance one-on-one with Mickey or Goofy, it was a real highlight of the trip.

We were luck to have picked a perfect weather day; because it's in an outdoor pavillion, I imagine that it can be pretty miserable on a hot summer day. Also, there wasn't a capacity crowd so I suppose the character interaction might not be as liberal when the house is packed.

We all had a really great time. Before I knew it, the show was over and we were hopping back aboard a bus. Hubby was rather wobbly with wine-induced balance issues, but I managed to maneuver him into the car for the journey back to Celebration.

This is another reason why I love living here so much. What a treat to be able to pop over to Disney World just for a dinner show. As I was walking to the restrooms outside the pavillion, I could see the bright lights of the Contemporary Hotel just across the water and hear the wail of the watercraft horns as they transported guests to and fro. I soaked up the Disney ambiance; it brought back wonderful memories of days gone by, when we used to visit as tourists. Back then, the enjoyment was always impeded by the thought "Only __ more days of vacation to go."

Now there's no such thought. Now an ambiance fix is only a short drive away. And no matter how many experiences we have, there's always something new to do. I'm so glad we finally got around to trying Mickey's Backyard Barbeque. It was most definitely a worthwhile experience.

Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/

Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:

Crowds Crowds Everywhere

Monday was Presidents' Day, so I guess I should have suspected that Tourist Land would be more crowded than usual. What I didn't expect was the sheer volume of people who would swarm Disney World and the surrounding environs this whole week.

My first clue was that the area restaurants were much more crowded than usual. Our next door neighbors faced a wait of over an hour at Logan's, a steakhouse on 192. We went there the next day but made sure to arrive a bit early. The place was already nearing capacity, and by the time we left it was on a wait (mind you, this was a week night).

A friend who works at the Magic Kingdom confirmed the sheer insanity of the crowd sizes. She said that the parks had been packed with a mass of bodies more suited to Christmas or Easter than a second-tier holiday.

Hubby went to Typhoon Lagoon later in the week because it was reasonably warm, expecting a fairly light crowd. He arrived after 1 and was informed that the park was almost at capacity. Yow! I wisely stayed home because a) crowds make me crazy; and b) even tho' it was in the 80s, I feared that my Floridian blood would still be chilled.

Our last attempt to get near Disney World occurred when I found a t-shirt online with a picture of the monorail and the phrase "Por favor, mantenganse alejado de las puertas" emblazoned in red on the front that is available at Downtown Disney. I decided to hustle over to get one, and hubby was planning to join me so we could have lunch at Earl of Sandwich.

The Earl has the most godly sandwiches this side of the Atlantic Pond, and as such it is wildly popular and teeming with humanity overflowing the queue. Thus, I usually go either early or late to avoid the peak lunch crowd.

On this day, we decided to go late, knowing that there would probably be a lot of people but figuring that it would have thinned out some. We should have know that was a futile wish the moment we saw the parking lot, with a conga line of cars circling like vultures lusting for a carcass, all in search of the most elusive prey of all: a parking spot.

After literally 15 minutes of circling, we hit the Parking Lot Jackpot. We spotted people in their car preparing to pull out. Even more amazingly, the spot was in the very first row (not that I mind parking farther back; after lunch at the Earl's, I can use the extra exercise).

The people took their sweet time in preparing to leave, reminding me of a research study conducted many years ago. It showed that people take longer pulling out of their parking spot when someone is waiting for it...something to do with territorial instincts. Waiting was better than circling aimlessly, so finally I managed to outlast their territoriality. They pulled out and I immediately zipped in, reveling in my small stroke of luck.

The luck most definitely ended there; when we got to the Earl's, it was nearly 2 p.m. but the stinking line had overflowed the queue and was tangled in a messy crowd scene near the doors. I popped in line while hubby hustled over to World of Disney to buy our shirts. I knew he'd be done with the purchase long before I was even in sight of the cash register.

Complicating matters was the sheeple nature of the tourist, which seems to find comfort standing within a herd even when there is a huge gap. At the Earl's counter, you order at a register, then proceed down the line to pay (and you can pick up various drinks and desserts from coolers as you ease your way down). However, if you order a salad, you have to stop at a counter just past the register. Those who are not getting salads can bypass those who are and go straight to the registers.

Unfortunately, the sheeple just weren't getting this concept. They stood in a clot of confusion at the register while the entire path to the payment area beckoned invitingly before them. They must have thought it was a trick and that surely ravenous wolves would leap out of the coolers if they actually dared to pass the salad folks. This whole mess was making the backup worse than ever.

Eventually we managed to get our order, and amazingly we even found a table. We had the ham and cheese sandwich with dijon mustand and the Caprese (with tomatoes, mozarella, and balsamic vinegar). Mmmmmm!

When we returned to the parking lot, another poor wandering soul immediately moved into place, ready to swoop into our parking spot. Fighting my territorial instincts, I pulled out promptly and fled back to Celebration. I was still in awe of the sheer volume of the crowd; if I was oriented to day and time, I would have sworn it was the thick of the holiday season.

Oh well, we have our t-shirts now, and I don't plan to go anywhere near the theme parks till I hear reliable reports that they crowds have shrunk down to a reasonable level. Imagine what a fortune the makers of Preparation H would make with Preparation C: Just smear on the crowd and the swelling disappears.

Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/

Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:

An Unexpected Find

Sometimes frustration leads to an unexpected find that makes it all worthwhile. Little did I know as I set out to pick my husband up from the airport that I was in for just such an experience.

We had been planning a nice dinner at one of the Disney restaurants, but when I called there were no reservations available at any of our favorite, or even the peripheral "well, we'll eat there if nothing else is available" spots. Apparently the combination of Valentines Day weekend and Presidents Day weekend was enough to destroy any chance of last-minute dining plans.

Oh well, we figured we'd go for our old standby, Chevy's. They have call-ahead seating, so that would minimize the wait among the tourist hoardes...or so I thought. An inner voice urged me to call just to see if they were doing call-ahead that night. The person who answered said "yes" but was promptly shot down by a frantic voice in the background: "Tell them we're all booked up!" It's impossible to be "booked up" with call-ahead, since a person calls when they leave home and is placed on the list; thus, most of their wait time is over when they arrive. I think it's more likely that the hostesses didn't want to deal with angry patrons who see someone being seated immediately when they've been waiting 45 minutes.

With that option gone, we decided to go to Don Pablos, which is very similar to Chevy's and is located not too far from the airport's North Exit. Since it was only 6 p.m., we thought we might beat much of the crowd. As we approached, I could see that the parking lot was empty...good sign. No, wait, bad sign! It was totally empty! Yet another of our regular haunts had bit the dust.

Hubby hadn't had lunch, and I'd only had a light bite myself, so we were ready to nosh. We decided to continue down Semoran Blvd. and see what we might run into. We knew that most restaurants would be jam packed, but at that point beggars couldn't be choosers.

Unfortunately Semoran is a gauntlet of traffic lights every other block, perfectly timed to ensure that you have to stop at every one. Our progress felt like mere inches as our stomachs rumbled and we scanned the neon-lit horizon. All around us were gas stations and fast food outlets, but nothing within the sit-down dining realm.

On and on, we drove...if you can call the stop-start-stop-start of the red light gauntlet "driving." Finally I noticed a little unassuming restaurant coming up on my right, with a sign announcing "Mexican Food." The forever-lost taste of Don Pablo still lingered on my tongue, so we decided to give it a whirl.

Our expectations weren't overly high, as we've never, ever found real, true, honest-to-goodness authentic Mexican food in Florida. I don't expect the chains to be authentic; while I enjoy Chevy's, I view it as being perhaps just a bit more authentic than Olive Garden. Chevy's has wonderful food, but it doesn't fulfill my taste for the real thing.

I developed my craving for authentic Mexican food back in my teen years. I grew up in a heavily Mexican neighborhood and babysat for a Mexican family. At their home, I learned to appreciate the cuisine of their native country.

We were lucky enough to have some wonderful Mexican restaurants in that area, too. My first apartment was right around the block from the main drag in a "Little Mexico" neighborhood, with three great eateries within walking distance of my front down. But my favorite was actually a chain called Pepe's. By "chain," I don't mean Taco Bell or even Chevy's. It was a small franchise, with locations only in Illinois and Northwest Indiana, and I think that most of them were family owned. While the quality of the food varied by location, most Pepe's were a gastronomic delight.

It was rough to move from that area to Kissimmee, where Mexican restaurants are plentiful but where authenticity is lacking. There are some I would peg as "okay," but nothing that even comes close to Pepe's. Every time I return to Chicago, Pepe's is included on my gastronomic city tour, along with Beggar's Pizza, JR's Hot Dogs, and Lawry's The Prime Rib (all things I've never found an equivalent for in the Sunshine State).

I didn't have high hopes for the little restaurant, particularly since it was housed in a building that I suspect was a Taco Bell in its former life. It had been converted to a rather unassuming sit-down place, and we plopped down and hoped for the best.

The menu actually gave me some hope. It featured dishes you don't normally find in a place aimed at the unadventurous diner who thinks a taco is the epitome of good Mexican eating. It had things like menudo (tripe soup), lengua (tongue), fried pork skin, and some sort of beef head dish (barbacoa?). That last one brought back memories of the Mexican markets in my teenage years, where whole heads stared blindly through the glass at the butcher's counter.

Initially we were among only a handful of patrons, but as others trickled in I could see that we were in the ethnic minority...another promising sign. I dunked a chip into the salsa, took a bite, and was instantly transported back to Chicago. The salsa was virtually identical to Pepe's! If I didn't know better, I would have believed that's just what I was eating. Even though I knew I should save room for the meal, I plowed through the chips with the lust of someone re-discovering their long-lost love.

Amazingly, the food was just as delicious and authentic as the salsa. I had gotten a combination plate, but the best item had to be the quesadilla. Unlike the usual flour taco-encased version, this one had thick Mexican cheese between fried corn tortillas. Mmmmmmm! They served corn tortillas with hubby's fajitas too, which is rare to see but is the true authentic way. To me, flour tortillas are a sign of the Americanized palate. I remember the dad of the family I baby sat eating corn tortillas with virtually everything and preparing them by simply turning on the gas burner and tossing the tortilla over the flame.

It was a long drive home, made more tedious by the red-light gauntlet, but it didn't seem so bad with my stomach basking contentedly. We had grabbed a take-out menu so we could easily return (the restaurant is called Tortilleria El Rey). The only thing that would have made our new find ideal is if they had served fideo (a delicious Mexican "spaghetti soup" that is rarely found in restaurants but is a common in-home comfort food).

It had been a decidedly "different" day from what we had planned, but with an unexpectedly happy ending. When I get a taste for Pepe's I won't have to hop a plane to Chicago...although with the traffic light gauntlet, I would probably get to Pepe's more quickly!

Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/

Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:

No Bird Brain

Back in November, I covered the saga of losing my cockatiel, Bradley, and gaining Truman the quaker parrot as the newest family member here at Duloc Manor. Our little green feathwad has been here almost three months now and has developed from a perch potato into quite a comical little bird.



As you can see from the photo above, he has no fear of the cats. Stitch (pictured) is non-lethal anyway, but Farquaad would eat him in a second. Poor Tooncinator still can't figure out why Truman won't play with him like Bradley used to. Toonce would swat at Bradley, and Brad would bite him back...they would go on and on with their play fighting. But Truman wants no part of a big, hairy cat paw coming at him, and I can't say that I blame him.

It took Truman a while to settle in, but now he is just as demanding as Bradley. We keep his wings clipped, and he's not as cat-savvy as Brad, so he has to stay in his cage when we're not around. But as soon as we open the door, he's ready to climb out and take up residence on his cage-top jungle gym. At first he hated being up there because the cage interior was his safe zone, but now he loves the taste of freedom and will play up there for hours. He has store-bought toys, but like a little kid his favorites are simple household items. He loves straws, flat toothpicks, toilet paper rolls, paper towels, and the plastic lids from Campbell's Soup to Go. The other day I gave him a metal juice lid, and he thought it was great fun to bang it against the perches.

He also enjoys making a rather disgusting "soup" in his water dish, consisting of whatever he can find to throw into it. That includes food, shredded newspaper, and various toys. I gave him the nice, big dish so he could take baths in it, but he prefers to bathe in his tiny drinking cup.

Since that's not adequate for proper birdie cleanliness, I take him into the shower with me every couple of weeks. To him it must be like the rainforest enjoyed by his ancestors...he perches on my arm and basks in the warm "rainfall" as the water beads run off his feathers and soak his little body.

I like to mentally torture him with games like wrapping a Nutriberry (bird treat) in a couple of layers of newspaper. He knows it's in there and tries to rip off the paper like a kid on Christmas morning. I also hide Nutriberries in empty Kleenex boxes so he has to wedge his birdy body in to get them out.

He is a wicked little bird; even though he is my pet, he bonded to my husband. Hubby is a bird hater...well, maybe not hater, but tolerator at best. He wouldn't be cruel to a bird, but neither does he like them or have any desire to interact with them. While he shares some of the cat duties and has cleaned out more than a few horse stalls in his day, he always left the care of Bradley strictly to me. He'd occasionally take Brad on his finger but that was the extent of their interaction.

With Truman, I informed hubby that he had to do some interaction because I didn't want our little green quaker to be bonded only to one person. Since we vacation frequently, I wanted him to be comfortable with others so he wouldn't be unduly stressed by different caretakers. Hubby started handing him a little bit each day, and darned if that wicked little Truman didn't bond to him! I mean bond as in hubby is his mate choice, and I am just chopped liver.

Now my husband can do anything with the bird. He is greeted by happy "clicks" each day, and he tolds Tru upside down on his finger, swings him around, and lays him on his back. No matter what, the bird trusts him and succumbs to whatever torture he imparts.

I never get a greeting, even though I am the feeder/cage cleaner, and when I try maneuvers like holding Tru upside down I get bit for my trouble. I've learned more about quakers, and apparently this is not uncommon. They are very opinionated birds who make their own choices despite the best efforts at human intervention. Like the cat who rubs against the only feline-hater in a room full of people, quakers will often peg a reluctant target.

Indeed, hubby was reluctant in the beginning but the cute little greenie's spell is working. I have caught him snuggling the bird and crooning baby talk, although he refuses to allow me to get such antics on camera.

In the meantime, I'm sloppy seconds but I still enjoy Truman. His vocabulary is amazing, with things like "Hello," "Bad Kitty," "Good Bird," "Step Up," and "No Bite," and he's starting to learn the Quaker Song ("I'm a little quaker green and stout, open my cage and let me out"). Of course he only talks when he wants to, and that's never when I have the video camera ready.

I still miss my sweet little Bradley, but Truman has definitely added life to Duloc Manor. Once you've had a bird, a quiet household just doesn't cut it.

Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/

Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:

A Fling With the Muse

A comment to my last blog entry made me realize just how long it's been since I last posted to my blog. Ironically, it's the blog's fault...my inspiration last year to edit the entries into a book awakened a long-dormant love affair with the Muse. I was a prolific freelance writer in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but that slacked off when I began my corporate job and got married. Then I started school to pursue my doctorate, went through the fun of an internship, and became addicted to Disney cruises. In view of all the other pursuits, my poor Muse went into cold storage.

Last year, I could hold it back no longer. The desire to convert the blog to a book awakened a much bigger monster for me. Editing the blog burned me out fast, so I decided to return to magazine writing as a counterpoint. I didn't have any specific goals for the year, just to start making submissions and sales again. My Muse plunged into that so strongly that there hasn't been too much left over for my poor blog.

But while I've been neglecting the chronicles of my life in Celebration, I've made quite a few sales. Most are in print form, but two of my articles (Miniature Donkeys and The Legend of the Donkey's Cross) can be found online at:

http://www.ecmagazine.net/

I've been supported in my endeavors by the Celebration Writers Group (http://celebrationwriters.blogspot.com/), a local band of writers from virtually every genre that meets bi-weekly for mutual support and encouragement. We've got quite a few people in and around town who've been bitten by the writing bug just as hard as I've been. They write everything from children's stories and poetry to opinion pieces to fan fiction.

It feels good to be immersed in the world of writing once again. I knew I would be a writer someday from the time I was old enough to know such a thing could be done as a profession. Even before that time, I would wander around the house at the age of three, making up elaborate stories in my mind about the family cat. I created and acted out scenarios with my building blocks. Finally, when I was old enough to read, a neighbor let me go through some of his old books and I found a copy of the 1963 edition of Writers Market. It was as though I had been struck by lightning! Writing could be a job, as proven by that old, dog-eared book.

In my elementary school years, my favorite "toy" was a typewriter, at which I would bang out all sorts of fanciful tales of horses and cats. Sadly, my childhood tomes didn't survive the years, but by high school I had sold my first newspaper article and I plunged into magazine writing in my 20s. I purchased a Magnovox Videowriter and named my first cat "Muse," as she'd lie on top of the printer to keep me company while I banged out my missives.

Here I am today, decades later and still as much a slave to the Muse as I was back then. I'll try not to be as negligent of my blog, and one of these days I will get back to editing it into book form. But in the meantime, I am still writing and still enjoying life in good old Celebration.


Visit my Celebration, FL website: http://www.celebrationinfo.com/

Click below to visit online counseling office at Kasamba:

You Know Your House Isn't New Anymore When...

...you start replacing the furniture.

It's been a little over three years since we made our way to Duloc Manor in an ice storm, and almost four years since construction was completed. Our happy home long ago lost that "new house smell," and cat hair tumbleweeds, nicked walls, and other signs of wear, tear, and animal life are the norm.

I never really thought about just how long we've lived here till I realized that it was time to replace the family room sofa. Since I work at home, I spend a lot of time on the couch which is pretty much my "office." It was a cheap couch to begin with, and the flimsy foam cushions were getting flattened out. Add a few coffee spills to that and you can see why I was ready for something new. Also, it was the type with loose pillows against a flat back instead of built-in cushions, which was taking a vicious toll on my back.

Thus it was that we headed out to Orange Blossom Trail, home of innumerable furniture stores. We started at Kanes, where I saw one couch that was semi-passable. I was looking for something with thick back cushions, in a heavy cat claw-resistant material, and in a very neutral beige or light brown. That narrowed down our selections, but the one that filled the bill was a nice model that even had built-in recliners on either end. I thought we might have found our new couch.

Since we were almost to the mall, hubby suggested that we check out Rooms to Go, where we had purchased much of our original furniture. Since it was a lazy Saturday, I figured, "What the heck?" We ventured down the road, crawling in the always-jammed mall traffic, and eventually reached our destination.

Like Kanes, Rooms to Go had limited options that met our three criteria, but where was one nice brown couch, made of just the right material, and it had recliners just like the one at Kanes. But then the salesman pointed out the feature that instantly won me over: built-in massage! A center console flipped down, with cup holders and massage switches. I could just picture myself, tied to my laptop with an aching back, being able to flip on the massage and instantly finding relief from my ergonomic self-abuse.

There was a matching loveseat (sans the massage and recline), so we measured the two pieces and returned to Duloc Manor to see if they would fit. Happily, they would actually fit better than our original couch and loveseat, leaving enough room for me to switch around our end tables and add a file cabinet for all my paperwork.

There had been a sale the day we visited; I went online a few days later and was disgruntled to discover that the sale was over and our pieces had skyrocketed in price! Oh well, we figured that another sale had to come around sooner or later, so we'd bide our time till then.

As luck would have it, the very next week we got a new sales flyer with a $100 off coupon. We didn't know how much the sofa and loveseat had been marked down to in this latest sale, but we figured we'd pop over and see. We were quite excited to discover that they were actually a couple hundred dollars cheaper than the original sales price...both pieces were now being sold as a set for $999.

The bad news was that our coupon was only good for items $1000 and above. The good news is that we added on the stain guard, which brought the total over $1000. The coupon covered almost the entire cost of the stain treatment, so it was like getting that for free. We had it on the old couch, so I can vouch from experience that it works.

We finalized our purchase and set up a delivery date. Now the only challenge was getting rid of the old furniture. Even though the couch was showing its wear, the loveseat was in virtually brand new condition. I figured I would advertise it on Celebration's intranet, and if no one wanted it, I'd have to pay the fee to have the garbagemen take it away. But that bugged me because I just hate to discard anything that still has some useful life remaining.

As luck would have it, I didn't even have to advertise. Someone had already posted on the forum seeking furniture and household goods for a needy family. Arrangements were quickly made for the old couch and loveseat to go to a new home where they could do some good. They were picked up on Wednesday, and the new furniture wasn't due till Saturday, so I temporarily moved my office into the formal room at the front of the house. I didn't realize that the change in routine would disgruntle Truman, my quaker parrot.

Tru's cage is between the kitchen and family room, so when I am working I am in his line of sight. He likes to play on his cage top jungle gym and takes comfort from having a "flock member" nearby. However, he can't see me when I'm in the formal room; he knew I was there because he could hear the television, but he was all alone (even the cats had taken refuge in the front of the house with me).

All of a sudden I heard a rustling of feathers and then loud squawking right outside the room. Tru had flown down the hallway and was waddling towards the sound of the TV, making angry birdy squawks to express his displeasure at being excluded. I cuddled him for a bit to show him that he was still a valued member of the family.

The days passed quickly, and soon it was Delivery Day. Having been scarred by previous unrealistic delivery dates and timeframes, I wasn't expected the truck to show up anywhere close to the four-hour window we were given. Imagine my surprise when the new furniture showed up right smack dab in the middle of the quoted timeframe!

The new pieces were brought in and set up, much to the chagrin or Truman and the cats, all of whom don't like change to their environment. But the cats soon realized that this was new territory to explore. It was a riot to see their expressions when I turned on the massage and the couch started "purring." Soon both had curled up on the new loveseat and were contentedly shedding and snoozing.

It took a little while to get used to the new look of the family room, but now it feels like "home" again. I love having a center console to hold my coffee cup and other essentials such as the remote, the phone, etc. I've used the heck out of the massage already too.

Thankfully I don't think any other pieces of furniture are near needing replacement, so hopefully things will be stable at Duloc Manor for a while.

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Bingo With Reels

As a part of our Christmas festivities, hubby and I usually exchange a batch of lottery tickets and scratch them on Christmas morning. This year we were just too darned busy, so we decided to do the tickets on New Years. Then a Travel Channel show on Las Vegas gave me a better idea: Why not just go to the Indian casino in Tampa?

We hadn't been to a casino in years. Back in Illinois, gambling had been legal for ages so it wasn't anything unique for us. The Illinois progression of legality was an interesting one. First, the casinos had to be on riverboats that actually went out and sailed. Thus, you would board and be stuck on the boat for 2-3 hours, even if you had tapped out all your funds.

Next, the law was loosened to allow gambling while the boats stayed docked. This meant that they could let people come and go as they pleased. Not much different than a land-based casino, other than the remote possibility of sinking.

Nowadays, the boats don't even pretend to be actual riverboats. They're just barges that are virtually indistinguishable from a land-based casino.

We lived within 30-45 mins. of the boats, so we'd go every now and then when the urge to throw away a chunk of money hit. I'm not much of a gambler; I bring a set amount and view it as paying for any other entertainment. I could go to a play for $50, or I could plug it all into a slot machine. Either way, I count it as an hour or two of amusement with the money gone at the end. Any funds that are left over after a casino trip are a bonus.

Having been able to gamble at will in Illinois meant that it didn't hold any special appeal in Florida. Also, when I visit a casino, I have to count on at least one day of a running faucet nose anyway, because I am very sensitive to cigarette smoke and the air in a typical gaming facility is 1% oxygen and 99% noxious burning tobacco. Even though smoking inside buildings is banned in Florida, the casinos are run by Indians so they are exempt from the law.

Ironically, Illinois has just passed its own smoking ban and did not exempt its casinos. They are not Indian-run, so the only way they could have been exempt would have been a special provision in the law. It will be interesting to see if one is added later, but in the meantime I sort of wish I was there so I could dump a few bucks into the slots and actually be able to breath at the same time. The jitters of the severely tobacco addicted going through withdrawals, yet unable to tear themselves away from the machines that feed their secondary addiction, would provide some great entertainment.

But it had been long enough to where I decided I could sacrifice my lungs for a dance with Lady Luck. Thus hubby and I piled into the Family Truckster, dubious directions from MapQuest in hand, and tooled down I-4 to the Hard Rock Casino.

On the way, we noticed a winery sign as we approached Plant City. Always game for wine tasting, and fascinated with the concept of wines made in Florida, we decided to take a detour. We're big fans of the Lakeridge Winery in Clermont, which actually has its own vineyards, so we thought this might be another neat little find.

The winery was a few miles off the interstate, but thankfully the way was marked with frequent signs. Soon we found ourselves pulling into the parking lot of something called the Keel and Curley Winery, home of blueberry wine (yes, made totally with blueberries instead of grapes) as well as a number of fruit-infused varieties made with a traditional grape wine base.

The tasting bar was packed, so we browsed for a bit until a spot opened up. I was drooling at many of the varieties on the shelves: Blueberry semi-dry, Key Lime, Black Raspberry, and Peach Chardonny, just to name a few. They didn't sound all that different than my favorite Wild Vines Fine Wine Product (blackberry flavored) at Publix, except with a larger price tag.

The tasting itself offered a sampling of six wines of your choice for $3. Hubby and I each chose six different ones so we could end up tasting a dozen. Almost all of them were delicious, and he was especially fascinated with their red ice wine. He is a big ice wine fan (a dessert wine that tends to be very sweet because it is made from frozen grapes), but 99% of them are white. The red was so good that we ended up getting a bottle. Actually, they were all so good that we ended up getting a case of 12 bottles that we mixed and matched.

Suitably stocked up on wine, we resumed our quest for the Hard Rock Casino. I was also rather hungry, since we didn't have breakfast or lunch, but we didn't want to go to a typical chain restaurant and that's all we saw all the expressway. We did see something called a Country Market, but it turned out to be a not-so-appealing buffet so we skipped it. Hubby tried to sooth my savage stomach by pointed out that the casino would probably have some good restaurants.

As we tooled along, I was a bit worried by the fact that there wasn't one billboard. Not one. In Illinois, starting about 50 miles out, you'll see signs: "Casino, 50 miles ahead," "Casino, 49 miles ahead" and so on. The only gambling-related billboard I had spotted was one touting a toll-free helpline for addicts.

As we got closer, the absence of signs continued. I followed hubby's directions and exited I-4, but it turned out they bore utterly no relation to the actual location of the casino. After driving aimlessly on the outskirts of Tampa, he finally called the casino and they gave us real directions. This isn't the first time that MapQuest has led us astray, and the non-existent directional signs merely added to the confusion.

Finally the Hard Rock was in sight. I pulled into the parking garage and headed up to the casino entrance (the complex also houses a hotel). The moment we entered the hallway, the stench of stale smoke, infused with fresh, slammed me like a noxious wall. It grew in power as we approached the gaming floor, and soon we found ourselves in the midst of slot machines of every variety. Well, at least I thought they were slot machines. They sure looked like 'em and worked like 'em, with the exception of not using tokens. Instead, you fed your money in and were paid out with an electronic slip.

I tend to like Double Diamond, Red White and Blue, and the novelty machines like Jackpot Party. Hubby and I tried a bank of machines near the poker room, but we ended up moving to a different section where I found a semi-generous Double Diamond machine. Just as hubby settled in, I noticed a section of Jackpot Party slots just beyond, so he hurried over there. I stayed with my current machine, as I had been down and it had just about gotten me even again.

When I had recouped my losses, I moved over to Jackpot Party. Hubby's machine was a dud, but mine was actually quite generous. At my highest point, I could have left with a $50 profit but I played it away and stopped once I was even.

On all of the machines, we noticed that there was a digital display having something to do with Bingo. We figured it was some sort of progressive jackpot and didn't pay it any mind, but I'd never noticed that on every machine in any other casino.

After cashing out, we sought out the restaurants and ended up eating at the first one we came to, Floyds (they also have a steakhouse, a mid-range place, and the requisite casino buffet, but we were too lazy and hungry to seek them out).

As we entered, I made it a point to ask if the restaurant was non-smoking. Being Indian owned, I knew they didn't have to follow the law. The hostess assured me that it was, so we took our seats and finally indulged in our first meal of the day. It was dinnertime so I was more than ready!

I had butternut squash and crab soup as my appetizer, group for dinner, and egg nog creme brulee for dessert. It was a lovely meal, spoiled somewhat by the horror of seeing the people right next to us (in a raised section) all lighting up their cigarettes and blowing the smoke in our direction. What the &^!*#@?!

I am not shy about confronting people directly, but I had a sneaking feeling that there was some loophole despite the hostess's assurances. Sure enough, I grabbed her as she walked by and she said, "Oh, that's the bar area. They can smoke there." Uh, the bar is in the middle of the restaurant, with tables right next to the dining tables. That is not a non-smoking restaurant. It was the old Illinois concept of the "invisible wall" all over again, and the smoke never seems to know how to stop there.

Thankfully by that time we were on dessert. After we completed our meal, we checked out the other restaurants for future reference. The moment we saw the steakhouse menu, I regretted just grabbing the first choice. They had steak tartare!!!! YUM!!! Raw steak!! It's nearly impossible to find because of the liability issues, since basically they serve you a raw, ground-up filet. I gave the hostess the third degree about the smoking policy, and she claimed that the bar was totally closed off and separate from the restaurant, so it looks like I'll be able to return.

Then we headed up to check out the buffet. I'm not normally a buffet person; I've been through too many meals at Disney World where I've watched kids taste stuff and toss it back or cough right onto the chow to ever be fully comfortable with them. But this buffet looked wonderful, and much of the food was at cook-to-order stations, eliminating the risk of child (or rude adult) contamination. There was no bar at all, thus no smoking. The snow crab legs alone were a powerful lure for me.

We decided that the steak tartare would be enough to lure us back someday, even if we didn't bother to gamble or only dropped a few bucks.

In the car, hubby was telling me about some deal the Florida governor is trying to make with the Indians. It didn't seem to make sense, since they already have gambling and the state has no say in it. My curiosity piqued, I looked it up on the internet. Part of the deal would allow the Indians to have "Vegas-style slot machines." Now I was really confused because it sure seemed like I had just been playing Vegas-style slot machines. They were all the familiar game types, and they certainly worked the same way as any other slot I'd ever played.

I did a little more research, and suddenly the little Bingo display on each machine made sense. Apparently Indian casinos can have certain kinds of games without state approval, one of which is Bingo. However, they can't have slot machines unless they make a pact with the government. The Seminoles in Florida cleverly get around this by somehow hooking up their slots into a computerized Bingo system and paying off with the slips rather than coins. I don't know the relevant law, but apparently this makes them "Bingo" rather than slots. They're limited on their gaming (only pseudo-slots and poker), but they get to keep all the profits. If the deal with the state goes through, they'll be able to have Las Vegas-style slots and expand to other games like blackjack, but they'll have to give a cut to Florida.

Either way, it doesn't matter to me as long as they have Double Diamond, Red White and Blue, and Jackpot Party. I never figured out how the Bingo part worked, but it doesn't really matter. As long as I can spin the reels and take my chances, it's a slot machine to me.

Christmas Ham on the Hoof

Theme park Christmas activities are fun. How can you not love the Osborne light spectacular or get chills at the stirring rendition of the nativity story at the Candlelight Processional? But as much as I enjoy all that, I'm still reveling in the novelty of being able to go horseback riding in December without trekking through a foot of snow with a temperature hovering the 20s.

Today, the owner of the barn where I keep Figment had a pre-Christmas get-together. She invited all the boarders for a ride this morning, followed by a little party. Usually it's against my religion to wake up early on a Saturday, but it sounded like a lot of fun. I had to work in the afternoon, but since we were meeting at 9 a.m. for the ride I figured I'd have enough time.

The morning dawned grey and murky, but the weather said there was no chance of rain. Even tho' it was a bit chilly (for Florida anyway), I donned a t-shirt just because I could. Out at the barn, I discovered that two of the boarders were running late. Since I was on a time schedule, I hurriedly saddled Figgie and planned to meet everyone out in the woods.

Figment has a split personality. Heading away from the barn you would think he was on the verge of collapse because he moves so slow. The gopher tortises whiz by us as Lead Butt drags his lazy carcass towards the state park entrance. It's only half a mile down the road, but sometimes it takes us nearly half an hour. Not only does he move like frozen molasses, but he has to stop and gap at the other horses, cows, and things that exist only in his own imagination as we pass by all the houses and barns.

Finally we made it out, and I could tell that he was going to be spooky. It was a breezy day, which meant lots of rustling that could indicate a predator stalking the poor, innocent Appaloosa. I had to laugh, tho', as he focused his attention on something in front of him and a killer deer suddenly bounded out from behind us, causing my chicken horse to bolt.

Other than being on high alert, he was behaving quite well. The other riders called when we were about halfway out. We headed down the Bear Lake trail, planning to intercept them, when Figment suddenly went into Alert Level Bright Red as we prepared to round a curve. I could tell that he wasn't just being silly so I let him stop as I tried to listen and look ahead. I could hear a strange sound...I couldn't identify it, but something alive was definitely just ahead of us. I dismounted and lead him around the curve...smack dab into a pack (herd?) of wild hogs!

If you're never seen the wild hogs that range throughout Florida, they're little black menacing creatures that don't have much fear of anything. They breed like rabbits and tear up the landscape, so I'm not particularly fond of them. Once or twice a year the state park removes some of them, but the population seems to rebuild and redouble in the blink of an eye.

Thankfully most of them ran off into the underbrush (although not very far), but one held his ground in the middle of the trail. Figment started in awe, probably thinking it was a dog but wondering why it smelled so different. I yelled and managed to shoo it away, and I made sure I put plenty of distance between myself and the hogs before remounting. Too bad I didn't have a gun or I'd have had me a nice, fresh Christmas ham!

Actually, I could never harm a critter, even one as obnoxious and destructive as a wild hog. I'll never forget the day that the armadillo that was tearing up my yard sauntered right in front of my car as if daring me to run it over. Ah, the temptation! But I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

After our hog encounter, we turned on a different trail than I had planned so our path wouldn't intersect theirs again. Eventually we came to the Boy Scout camp, where someone had inexplicably raked many large piles of pine needles. Considering that the needles cover about 80 percent of the trails, it seemed odd to rake up one little area.

In Figment's eyes, the piles much have looked like big, brown porcupines just waiting to impale him. He planted his heels and let me know he was not going anywhere near them. Sigh! Even when I dismounted to lead him up for a sniff, I practically had to drag him. Finally I poked a pile with my toe, and when it didn't dismember me he seemed to accept that it was safe.

Thankfully that was the end of the drama on our ride. I called the others, but they were rather far off so I ended up turned towards home. I was shocked that I had been out for over two hours! But the weather was almost perfect for riding so it was easy to get caught up in the relaxation of trotting along on my horse and to lose track of time.

It had been an interesting pre-holiday adventure. Back in Chicago, I wouldn't be out in the woods marveling at Christmas ham on the hoof, and I probably wouldn't even be at the barn. No doubt I'd be holed up inside, giving thanks for central heating and wishing that springtime would hurry.

But now I can enjoy the Great Outdoors year 'round with my intrepid equine companion. I can't think of a merrier way to spend part of my Christmas season here in the Sunshine State.

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Melting Pot Mayhem

The Melting Pot has long been one of my favorite restaurants. I visited it frequently in Chicago, although they seemed to have an obsession with trying to seat me in the smoking area. Their non-smoking section was woefully inadequate and always had a long wait, so they tried to talk poor non-smoking suckers into sitting in the nicotine haze. Nope, I don't think so! But without fail, they would claim, "You made your reservation for smoking," even though both hubby and I had gotten into the habit of forcing them to repeat "Yes, this is for non-smoking" whenever we called to make it.

For any other restaurant, that annoyance would have caused me to cross them off my list. But the Melting Pot is like no other. It's a 1970s throwback of heavenly melted cheese and divine chocolate dip, sandwiched around a meal cooked at your table in your choice of broth or oil (make mine mojo broth, please). It's not exactly easy to find that someplace else, so the Melting Pot had me in its grip.

When we moved to Florida, I was pleased to discover one in Dr. Phillips, just a stone's throw away from Celebration. Better yet, Florida's smoking ban meant that I never had to argue to get a table where I could actually breathe.

The Melting Pot is good for an indulgent meal any time, but it's also a great place to celebration special occasions. Thus it happened that I went there tonight with two friends for a birthday bash. Not only was December 20th the birthday of one of my companions, but it was also the first day of "Get Lit," a holiday we started in 2006. Get Lit encompasses 12 1/2 days, which allows you enough time to get sober by New Years Day afternoon. One of its main components is the melding of Coke and Mentos at midnight on January 1st, but we also spend the intervening days celebrating the melding of human and alcohol.

The Melting Pot is an excellent place to do that, with yummy drinks like blackberry margaritas and my all time favorite, the Yin and Yang. That tasty little ice cream drink blends chocolate and vanilla into a smooth taste treat that goes down much too smooth. You're lit before you know it!

I put a couple Yin and Yangs under my belt as my friends downed the margaritas, and we worked our way through a multi-course meal of Mediterranian cheese, salads, chicken, seafood, and dark chocolate with raspberry for dessert. At some point, there was also the ritual present opening, although we spared the birthday girl a drunken rendition of "Happy Birthday."

At the end of our feast, two of us made a quick restroom visit before hitting the road to home. I was the last one to return to the table, so I stood at the edge as the others packed up to leave. Somehow the birthday girl managed to unite the tissue wrapping paper from her gifts with the candle on our table, and WHOOSH! The tissue went up in flames. It's utterly amazing to see just how fast that paper will burn.

Time slowed to a crawl as I watched the pyrotechnics erupt before my eyes. Amazingly, I remained calm and collected enough to say, "Uh, we'd better put some water on that." One of my friends was staring in awe, while the birthday girl flailed at it while inexplicably stating the obvious, "Oh...fire. Hot!" Unfortunately, she then tried to smother it with another piece of tissue, which only made it flare up bigger and brighter than ever. The flames were shooting up and ash was swirling in the air.

At that point, I was tossing whatever water glasses I could find at it, as was my friend and a waiter who had happened along and noticed the disaster in the making. I don't think I've ever seen anyone's eyes get as big as his did when he saw the flames.

Thankfully no one around us was panicking. The family in the booth behind us seemed fascinated by the chaos and helpfully provided additional water glasses. Finally the flame were doused, and all I could think to myself was, "Oh, Lord, we almost burned down the Melting Pot."

Here is a photo of the aftermath (note the little pile of ashes and the ice and straws from the water we were tossing):



I wasn't quite sure what to do. Should we add some money to the tip for firefighting duties? (The poor waiter wasn't even the one who had served us.) Slink out in shame? Ask why they hadn't brought us extra marshmallows?

We opted to take our leave, and I wondered if I would ever be allowed to dark their door again. My husband and I visit The Melting Pot so often that they have our information in their reservation system. They know that we always get mojo broth and that we only want the green goddess, teriyaki, and curry dipping sauces. Now we probably have a new note in big red letters:

"NO candle on table!"

Out in the parking lot, the three of us burst into uncontrollable laughter. What a way to celebrate Get Lit...with a literal lighting! We still couldn't believe that we'd just set our table on fire. Granted, New Years Eve is supposed to be a pretty wild time, and we'll all be together again on the 31st, but somehow I just don't think we'll ever manage to top getting lit at The Melting Pot. But somehow I have a sneaking suspicion that next time I call for reservations, the response will be, "Sorry, I'm afraid we're fully booked for the rest of 2008."

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