Before I start, let me address the picture issue once again. I'm going to try and put some up. Shhhhh. Don't tell DH. Try. I said. I get bored easily. Plus, I have a busy day. It's Friday, after all. I'm going out this evening to play with my girlfriends. So I have to shave my legs. And my teeth. Sorry. Anyway, I'll look at it again. But...can't I just DESCRIBE us all really well...instead? DH is large, beefy, conservative-looking guy, dark thick hair, dark eyes, big hands and feet and, always, looks sort of tanned. Calvin is a miniature version of DH. Dark hair and eyes, tannish skin, long, long eyelashes and big, mischievous, sparkling eyes... little scar beside his right eye. Perfect features. He's a nice looking boy. But, big teeth. Beth and Tommy are both fair-skinned, blond(hers is long, his is in a bowl cut) and blue-eyed. Few freckles across their little noses. They are both pretty. Yep. Very pretty. Both. I'm neither short nor tall. I have long blond hair, blue eyes, freckles, big white teeth (friends call them my "chicklets") and pretty good abs. That's the only thing that keeps DH here. Seriously. There. No need for pictures, now. Good.
Part 26
Day 5, Dec 15: So I left you with a mental picture of DH and I wreaking havoc in the Grand Floridian Cafe. Maybe that was why our server was sweating? Hum? I was telling you that I was making DH laugh. Hard. While, usually it's ME who's making HIM laugh, he's pretty good with the come-back grinds. And, sometimes, he really does crack me up. In fact, one of the best and most painful laughs I've ever had in my life was during our honeymoon. Thanks to DH. DH's ONLY two jobs when we got married were to actually show up at the church and plan our honeymoon. Surprisingly, he DID make it to the church on time. Barely. Another story. And, he also decided that he wanted us to go CAMPING for our honeymoon...driving all the way to the West Coast... for three weeks. That's B.C. for all you Canadian geography buffs. Ok. I was game. I had imagined a slightly different honeymoon. Like at the Grand Floridian. But what the heck. So we stay a few days in Glacier National Park in Montana. Because it was, and is, absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful. Love it. And... I have another little fetish. Beside geeks. I LOVELOVELOVE grizzly bears. They fascinate me. They move me. And they scare me. Got a LOT of books about bears, let me tell ya. Anyway... so we're in this campground in Glacier... right nearby one of the Grizzly mating areas. Lots of bears around. A trail nearby our site is closed because there's a mother and her cubs of the season hanging around it. So... we have to keep NOTHING, basically, in our tent at night. Just the basics. No food, drinks, toothpaste or anything that produces an odour, etc. We get ready to sleep and DH jumps out of the tent and throws everything we don't need in the truck. We sleep. When I wake up in the morning... DH is already awake. Strange. "Mel?" he says, "I have something to tell you." What? WHAT? He tells me that he THINKS he has locked the keys in the truck with all our stuff. You THINK? No. No. He's pretty sure. He's positive. Let's see. What do we have with us? We have two sleeping bags, two pillows, one pair of underwear(HIS), one pair of black sweat pants(MINE) and a flashlight. No shoes. Nothin' else. No shirts. Nothing. Great. Fantastic. So he realizes that he HAS to go to the ranger station for help. The tent is starting to really heat up, now. I'm hungry. So he pulls, squeezes and HAULS my sweat pants on over his underwear. And sets off. The tent gets too hot. I have to get out. I'm naked. Buck. So I wrap a sleeping bag around me like a toga and go and sit on the picnic table in our site. Sit. Sit. Sit. Finally, the couple beside us take pity on me and bring me a tray of cinnamon buns and water. Thanks. That was nice. So I'm just sitting and eating when I see him down the road. Kinda running, kinda loping along. SQUEEZED into my pants like a bratwurst. They're WAY too short, WAY too tight and he's got no shirt or shoes on. His hair is sticking up like a wild man and he's running with a wire coat hanger in his hand. MMMMMWAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! SO FUNNY! He looked like a giant, crazy Tom Sawyer... or a yoga enthusiast... or like he was about to "Riverdance"! Or star in "Cops"! I can't stand it! Even to this day, it cracks me up. Wish the video camera had been handy. But it wasn't. It was in the car. With everything else we owned. Welll.... back to Disney. 'Cause this is getting to be less of a Disney trip report and more of a camping one. Sorry. So... we finish making spectacles of ourselves and go and take some pictures in the lobby and then head back to the dock to wait for the kids to come in. I want to see them return on their "pirate ship". We see them coming, first. And then we HEAR them They're singing, shouting and laughing. They're singing "A Pirate's Life For Me" and yelling "ARRRRGGGHHHH!" Yes. Ours were the loudest. But they've had practice. Lots. They get off their ship and run over. They're excited. They had a GREAT, FUN time. I ask Beth how many pictures she took with the camera I bought her. None. Oh. And... they have loot! Treasure! Little bags filled, not with treasure, but lips and eyeballs. Not even real ones. Plastic. Plastic whistle lips. Cheap plastic beads. So on. Wow. Now THOSE were the MOST expensive loot bags I ever, ever bought. But they were happy. Isn't that the point of all of this, anyway? I look at my wonderful, happy family whom I love so much. And gather them around me. I have something to tell them. It's bad. Very. I tell them we must LEAVE DISNEY PROPERTY, now, and go out into the wilds of Orlando. I see them shudder. Or not. But, I felt like shuddering. Because we don't KNOW what's out there. We're Prisoners of Disney. Always. We don't like to leave. For anything. And... I'm well aware that Universal, at least, is out there. That's bad enough. But... now... we... need... a...
WALMART. Calvin is running out of pants. The food at the Beach Club Marketplace is too expensive. And, mainly, my digital camera card is now full. We have to go. I leave them all moping around the big Gingerbread House in the lobby and I head over to G.F.'s guest services counter. Nice man, there. A good, friendly CM. I pretend I'm a guest at the Grand Floridian. Not really. I just don't SAY I'm not staying here. He doesn't ask and can assume whatever he wants. I tell him my plight. He doesn't want me to leave Disney, either. He offers to call the business office next door in the Conference Centre and get them to download our pictures to disk for us. SO NICE. I'm touched. I ask him to make me a map to the closest Walmart just in case, though. He really, really doesn't want to. But he does. I thank him profusely, gather my family and head over to the Conference Centre. Next door. We head out. The kids blazing our trail with their lip whistles, wearing their Pirate Mickey Ears and Tommy... sucking on his squishy plastic sticky eyeball.
To be continued...
Yikes!
I love him, can't help it. I would leave my DH for him, just kidding (I think). Anyway, keep them coming!!
