Greetings, everybody. Before I get down to it, I wanted to say a quick word. I have a neurological deficit as well as (undiagnosed, but it's only a matter of time and money before I get the official nod) Asperger's, and therefore it's a lot easier for me to make sense of my world through the written word. Therefore this journal is mostly going to read as me thinking out loud to myself! I am not trying to exclude anybody, but I'm also not writing this so I can entertain the masses It's just a way for me to get my thoughts clear and make the planning process that much easier on myself. To bring order out of chaos, as it were. Feel free to comment, but know that I may miss a post here and there. That said . . . This first journal entry is mostly about the fact that there are a lot of firsts in this honeymoon at WDW. It's the first time I'll have traveled with somebody else since I was a teenager. It's the first vacation I've had as an adult. It's the first trip involving an airplane that Fish (my DH) and I have gone on together, it's the first time I've been back to WDW since I was 8 years old, and finally, it's the first trip that Fish and I have taken together that's been longer than a weekend. I have realized, now that we have just under a month to go, that I don't know how to travel with an adult companion, as adults. I don't know what to bring on the airplane (what does he like to do in a tin can? He suggested cribbage . . . on an airplane . . .), nor how to assuage the inevitable grumpies and irritations that will bug Fish (he's not exactly the most patient guy in the world and he also lets little things bug him, I have learned to let it roll or express my emotions and go on with life, but he's still figuring that one out), and I don't know how to travel with somebody else. I know *my* routine for airports, but I don't know his. I suppose this is one of the reasons people go on honeymoons, to learn things about their partners, but I could easily forgo this lesson! Since he's working two jobs (my various disabilities make me pretty much unhireable in conventional positions) at a rate of 65-70 hours a week, the planning is falling on my shoulders, which I don't mind, I enjoy it and I'm good at it. But it's the same as with our wedding -- he trusts my judgement and trusts that I'll make good decisions, and I can't help but worry. Not that he'll blame me if he doesn't like anything, because he won't, but *I* will blame *myself*, quite fiercely. This goes right back to the current and past pattern between myself and my parents. They expected and demanded perfection of me (and still do) and if they don't enjoy something, it's always my fault. No matter what it is. So now I need this vacation to be perfect because I don't want to get blamed. Which is ridiculous, I know, intellectually I totally understand all of it, but my emotions are still struggling. I *know*, through and through that my DH won't blame me at all (because he knows, most of the time, what's up and how to put things on their correct shoulders in order to resolve the issue) but I will take over from him, because that's what I've been used to with my parents all these years. I think that this convoluted perfection/blame thing is at the root of my failure phobia. So that's what I'm currently struggling with, surprisingly! I fixed the ADR mess, got a king-bed room in the resort (it's not preferred, but heck, we can walk) -- and I know this because it's on the resort res, I suspect our travel agent had a wee word with Disney's agents about the fact that we're on our honeymoon -- and have fixed the AirTran clusterf*** (pardon the language, but holy dang, that was so bad . . . all I hope is that they don't change our flight from Orlando a FIFTH time between now and then . . . anyway . . .) and now the worst problem I have is the fact that I can't find my brand-new-bought-specifically-for-Disney bathing suit. It's in the house somewhere, I just don't know where! The other looming issue is the flying difficulties that my narrow Eustacian tubes (in my ears) and naturally plugged sinus cavities cause, which are REALLY bad. The last time I flew, I passed out from the pain, and I was certain (with no exaggeration) that I was going to die because the pressure in my head was so bad. I was worried that either my brain or my eye or both would explode, right there in the airplane. Oh well. I guess I get to be firm but polite this time and insist on my hot-cloth-in-cup-over-the-ear thing, which tends to mitigate the issue somewhat, enough that I don't pass out or lose control over one half of my body (both of which happened before). I worry because the first, last and only time I went to WDW in Florida, I had a bad . . .episode, I guess you'd call it, and I don't really want to repeat that as an adult. All I remember is being semi-conscious in the limo as my father told the driver in no uncertain terms to get us to the Contemporary as fast as possible, because there was a doctor there waiting. I remember pulling up to the hotel and sure enough, there was a man in a white coat who examined me right there in the limo. Somebody carried me up to our room and put me in bed. I then missed the entire first day of our vacation because I was too weak to do anything except lie in bed and watch cartoons. The hotel sent up pizza and hamburgers free, though, which was cool because we didn't get pizza at home (Mom was, and is still, fanatic about healthy food!). Going home was uneventful, except that again, as we descended into O'Hare, I started to puke and couldn't stop. Somehow I don't think there will be pizza or an on-call physician this time, if worst comes to worst. On the other hand, I am now an adult and can handle whatever happens. Crossing my fingers that everything is ok. Fish freaks out and panics when something happens to me, however minor, and I don't want him worried. Part 2 is coming up!