Sorry for the delay everyone...crazy days at the old homestead! I've finally got some time for an update: it's Friday night...the laundry is being laundered, I've got me a mocha with brandy and whipped cream, and the fingers are itching to talk to the keyboard. Let's get this show on the road, and thanks for reading!
Friday, October 20th - Waking Up With Barry Manilow Stuck in My Head Does Not Make Me Crazy
Never let it be said that we don't learn from our mistakes...at least temporarily. Before putting in a request for a wake-up call we pondered the Disney space-time continuum - my concern: could we make it to the Kona Cafe in time for our 9:30AM reservation without resorting to subspace travel?
Hmmmm...if we catch a bus from the SSR Congress Park bus stop at 8:30AM, pick up a total of 20 other passengers, eight strollers, five diaper bags - each with its own gravity field - and a large potted fern, how long would it take to reach the Magic Kingdom and at what time would our bus intercept a monorail leaving EPCOT traveling at the exact same speed but carrying three times the number of passengers and six dozen bread fruit plants while driving into a headwind?
Okaayyy...using
B for Bus and
M for Monorail solve for
T (Time)
As someone who's spent the better part of her "career" in finance, I fully appreciate the irony of the following: I hate math. Actually, I loathe it in all its' forms, signs, cosigns, tangents, theorems, proofs, equations, derivatives, and integrals.
And I think that word problems are a special form of torture that should be reserved for the ninth circle of Hell.
How then to explain the rapidity with which I solved the problem and dazzled my husband?
It's a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.
The solution was surprisingly easy:
D = RT or Darvocet equals Relaxed Travel (and probably explains the potted fern that joined us on the bus.)
Based on my advanced mathematical calculations a 7:30AM wakey-wakey seems like a good choice. But can I just say, as someone who didn't know that a new character was helping out with the morning phone calls and as someone who's never seen
Lilo and Stitch, that the wake-up call has become a little disturbing?
Let me help you visualize this: the bedroom is in semi-gloom...the phone rings shrilly next to your ear, jerking you out of a deep slumber and setting your heart racing at an unhealthy rate. You fumble sleepily for the receiver, knocking your glasses off the bedside table in the process which results in your mumbling an unintelligble obscenity into the mouthpiece while wondering how your husband is managing to sleep through all the noise you are making.
And then strange, gutteral sounds - spluttering and growling - emanate from the earpiece. For the briefest of moments you think that Linda Blair is calling, your arms get all goosebumpy, and you are certain that pea soup is going to squirt out of the receiver resulting in a memory that is definitely not magical in nature.
Thank goodness that Mickey Mouse grabs the phone back from Stitch and explains the situation, preventing you from calling the front desk on your cell phone and requesting an impromptu exorcism of the entire SSR communications system.
**Bad Joke Alert** Had that happened, would the system have been excommunicated?
Ladies and gentlemen, the editorial staff would like to offer its apologies for the author's insertion of a truly awful pun. While she may be easily amused (see mashed potato sculptures, Samurai Cat, and bathroom humor) we certainly know that intelligent readers such as yourselves have higher standards. We pledge to do a better job going forward because, quite frankly, the author isn't nearly as funny as she thinks. Thank you for your time - we now return you to Day 3.
Heh heh heh...joke's on the old, out-of-touch, don't-have-kids-so-we-haven't-seen-a-Disney-cartoon-in-years-couple in Villa 1253. I make a mental note to give my parents a wake-up call at some time during the upcoming week.
So, at this point you may be wondering how Barry Manilow ties in with all of this early morning excitement. I hate to disappoint those of you who were waiting for some sort of brilliant bridge, but there is absolutely no correlation between Barry Manilow, Mickey Mouse, Stitch,
The Exorcist, or our telephone.
Here's what happened - we were getting ready to leave for breakfast at the Kona Cafe, which is a WDW vacation tradition for us. One of the many unwritten rules in our marriage contract is that Jason must be allowed a serving of Tonga Toast for each visit to Disney World. And as far as I know he can only get the Tonga Toast at the Kona.
At the Kona...
Uh oh, I feel a song coming on!
At the Kona, the Kona Cafe at the Poly
The breakfast special's a calorie-laden folly;
At the Kona, the Kona Cafe at the Poly
Tonga Toast, sausage, and coffee -
At the Kona...we ate too much.
I loved your review of it, and I even showed DH. He agreed that it has to go to the top of our To DO list for next time. 
Besides, I want to see the back of that statue for myself! 
I need some more readin'!
