Wonders of the Modern Day for which I am Grateful

1. Spray suncreen
2. TiVo
3. Clairol's Root Touch-Up
4. Laser hair removal
5. The George Foreman Grill

Three Things I Learned at Disney World

After eight days at Disney World, here are the three things I learned:



1) Luxury hotels, other than structurally, might not actually be that better than the Hampton Inn (where the breakfast and the WiFi is free). At least housekeeping wise, which has a big impact.



2) Everyone gets scared. The NBA Championship between the LA Lakers and the Orlando Magic was going on while we were there. At Universal Studios, we waited in line behind (what we think were) a posse of LA Lakers. Once inside, the attraction mistress called for volunteers to act out parts of a disaster movie (since the attraction is called "Disaster). One of the big, rich, successful Laker guys giggled and kept pointing to his friend, another big, rich, successful Laker guy. The attraction mistress said that policy requires those who nominate another must perform himself. Well, this guy ducked and covered until his teammates forced him onstage. Now, the audience was full of kids and tourists (many sporting the Amazing American Ass, but that's for another day), not one of whom was as imposing and accustomed to spectators as this guy. But he was terrified. And the ten-year old kid next to him was not.

3) My daughter is actually learning the big life lessons from me. As we lounged at the pool, I started discussing dinner possibilities. My favorite idea was room service (which I'd never had). My ten year-old daughter asked me, "Does the hotel pay for that?" I said, "Noooooo...," which led her to ask, "Is it really expensive?" I said, "Yesssss....." She thought a minute and asked, "So, since we're spending so much money anyway, we should just go ahead and spend more?" Which had been my thinking exactly!

The Tyranny of Toast

Every morning of my life, I let two pieces of toast decide what I'll eat for the rest of the day. My very favorite part of the morning is eating two slices of white bread that are lightly browned and a little less lightly buttered, accompanied by a cup of coffee and the daily newspaper. The breakfast that I usually have and actually do enjoy is two slices of diet bread lightly toasted and topped with tomato sauce (because I am the dago my Grandma made me), still with the coffee and the paper. If I've eaten my responsible breakfast, I can stay pretty much on the track of not shoving whatever I can think of into my mouth. But when I give myself permission to have the delicious breakfast, the gates are opened for me to have a fun food fiesta all day long. And that is the power of toast.

Most Likely to Succeed

Today is one of those days I wish we'd chosen a less affluent school district, so my kids could maybe have a chance to excel in the arena of their choice, without private lessons, weekend competitions, or steroids (and if steroids helped my kid get into the choir, God help my decision-making ability). I've gotten used to having the school tell me my kid isn't as gifted as I'd thought (since the competition for being gifted was already fierce in third grade), and that she's in fact rather average (heard again as the second kid goes through the system). Fine. Neither will get to spend a week at Virginia Beach or watch an open-heart surgery (two actual perks of being in the gifted program). (Of course, I do have the name of the psychologist who administers IQ tests for $150 and seems to only test students who turn out to have IQs over 130). But to think they'll never act a part in a play or sing a musical duet or have a chance to find out they love volleyball because they didn't devote years to practice before the age of 14 to get the opportunity...and, okay, I don't know that private volleyball lessons are actually offered....makes me wish we'd chosen school district Pretty Good instead of school district Deep Pockets.

Hiding from Abraham Lincoln

I should have known I'd see Rick My Yoga Teacher at Walmart, since I see him on the discount circuit (Walmart/Costco) with amazing regularity. Still, the possibility wasn't enough to get me to change out of my sweat pants. At least I noticed that my shirt was inside out before I left the house. Rick's always easy to spot, being about six foot six. In the summer, he's even easier to find. Starting in June, he travels from festival to festival, appearing as Abraham Lincoln. He grows the requisite beard, dyes his graying hair dark, and wears the stovepipe hat (yes, sometimes even in Walmart). I never want to run into him, because he is my true crush, and I'll never look as good as when I first took his yoga class, about three years ago. Which is why I hid in the housewares section.

Here is my favorite Rick memory:

I was seriously considering skipping yoga that night because of the snow. But I went. The class was small, only four other women, who came in groups of two. After a few regular vinyasas (or whatever), he suggests, since the group is so small, doing partner yoga. Crap! Once again, I'm flashing back to gym class and not getting picked. But oh, do I get picked. Since I'm non-coupled, I am Rick's partner. And he even knows my name.

I must tell you, I have not lied upon a floor, ass cheek to ass cheek, legs stretched up against legs stretched up, with another man since....well, actually I've never had reason to do that. After thirty minutes of partner yoga, for me at least, it was time for a cigarette.

For at least a week after, I felt sexy and secretive and completely invigorated.

I think the moral of the story is, wear real pants and make-up even to Walmart.

That's Not Writing, It's Typing!

I've always had such potential. But then I forgot to do anything with it. I've taken pride in my facility for words, though I'm slowly coming to the conclusion that my gift is more for pronouncing them (who else but me and my mom says "mauve" correctly? or "forte"? or "short-lived"?) than writing them. My friend Mary still believes differently. Because I so very much want her to be right, I'm going to give this a shot: a blog about me (which limits the audience pretty much to me and Mary, until she's full up on the me stuff). It's a great day in the techno-world, when my writing practice can be posted for all, giving me the illusion of success.