Disney Trip part #10

The Anastasias have decided to travel on the Monorail this time. Though usually we opt for the ferry. Nothing like having the castle creep up on you. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the mysterious Monorail horse smell has dissipated. For the last couple of years, The monorail has smelled like a barn. Not that I mind the barn smell, but usually there's an obvious reason for it --like a horse or a cow. Weird. I wonder what that was. Next thing we know we are dumping out at the Kingdom.

The fear of the crowds stumbled out of the monorail with us. We have no happy Pop Century beds to collapse in this time. If we have a long grueling exit, we'll be traveling for an hour and a half. Mr. A, our chauffeur, had been battling the chicken in the toilet all last night. We are older then we used to be. At 23 we could stay up all night and roll right into the next day chipper and fun. Now 10 years later the all nighters will leave me and Mr. A like crying babies the next day .

First thing first, we pile Mr. A with my bags. The kids and I walk unencumbered through security. We wait for him. Why is it so hard to find “your party” after the security break? Truly, Mr. A takes forever to get all our bags inspected.  The kids and I wander a bit away. It's Disney for Pete’s sake. Move along man. Finally he drags himself and the bags to where we are.

We have no plans. Well, that's what I told Mr. A and my offspring. Of course, I have a plan . I want fudge. I love fudge from Main Street. I wish I could eat it hands free like a dog. I'd hork it back using just my head, gravity, and tongue. And I would make awful slurping noises. That's not socially acceptable, so I usually suck it off the plastic knife they give you.

FUDGE.

That's my secret plan .

I look at my walking children. We need to get a stroller, so we head under the train. There's mass chaos. No cast member at the counter. I can only see a pair of busy feet slinging strollers around behind the stroller curtain. Now, time, for The Anastasias is of the essence. We've yet to see the crowds. I keep hearing the 24 theme music in my head. “Dum dum dum dump” A huge clock is ticking for merry makers in the Kingdom to shuffle out and line up.

My mother gave us a bit o’ warning, telling us the story of the new numbers of allowed guests. They used to cut it off at 25,000 guests but now they are letting in 75,000 before they turn the guests away trying to get into the Kingdom. Is this a true fact? Are we about to face a crowd Unlike Disney has ever seen before?

. Ahhh. Finally. A moment to enjoy. I know Mr. A will be so happy with the view.

Oohh!! Cosmic Ray’s Starlight Café. Lucky you!! I remembered!

I know it's hard to find your party

I've to take stroller matters into my own hands. I see a frazzled looking man headed for the stroller curtain with a naked double stroller.
Me- “Returning your stroller?”
Him- “Umm, yes, but I don’t know what to do”
Me- “Don’t worry sir; I'll take care of that for you” I say in a soothing voice
He stares at me.
I give him an encouraging smile.
He hands me the stroller.
Me-“Have a great night”

I've commandeered someone else’s stroller. Mr. A likes to follow rules. He wants to stand in his line, give his name card from Epcot. I ignore him and load up GC and shove our name in. He hates when I commandeer naked Disney strollers, but in my defense, I never make them naked, I find them that way, abandoned.

A disapproving Mr. A leads us to Main Street. We are arriving at 8:35pm and people having been lining up for the Spectro Magic 9:00pm parade. Thronging is more like it. The parade crowd is phenomenal. Between the parade and the sheer volume of humans we can hardly recognize the road to my castle. Worst of all, there was no way to get to the candy store. With the FUDGE.

We shuffle slowly with the others trying to make their way down Main Street. We duck off to the side and head towards Future World. I look at the kids and assess their levels (Cranky, tired, hungry, etc) their hunger meter is high. I realize the kids don’t have the Italian bloat Mr. The King and I are enjoying. Their meals were much more lunch-like and reasonable. I've realized even my flatulence at this point has a foreign flair to it. I love Italy. So we head over to Lungering Larry’s or what ever that place with the monster singing is. The name will come to me. Either way, my kids (big surprise) are afraid of Larry. So we usually pick one of the surrounding tables. We're pleasantly surprised by a short line. This adds to our delusion that the crowds are not “that bad." I tell Mr. A to order and the kids and I scope out a table. We get a view of the castle at Ray’s so I try to call Mr. A. Why do I bother? He keeps his phone in his pants and his Happy Mickey ring tone is just too freaking far from his ear. If only I could send a shock, like those evil dog collars.

Just a few years ago, I was eating in Ray’s with Mom, Mr. A, BC and GC. I went for a condiment run. As I was walking back I focused on a little girl about 8 years old. She was running in one balcony door and out another scanning the tables. I stopped and watched her. Tears start streaming down her face. I never let her out of my gaze. 

Finally, I approached her, “Sweetheart, are you lost?”
 
Through her tears, “Yes!”
 
I put on my best teacher voice, “Okay, the first thing you need to do is look for a cast member” I guide her to a line.
 
Me -"I have a lost child here.”
 
Cast Member jumps to work. Comforting the child and explaining that they would find her parents together. I stepped off to the side, but never took my eyes off of her. Within a few minutes a frantic father scoops her up. Hugs and admonishments. My gift that day was sitting not far from them and watching them all have a lunch together. It's funny how things work out. I never go for the condiments. Mr. A does it.

What I didn’t know was Mr. A was reenacting the little girl’s frantic search at that very moment. Although he says it's without the tears, I have my doubts . I get a phone call; Mr. A is given the clue of the balcony. He's wrangling a tray of food and drinks. The trays are apparently greased up just right so that as you move, everything on the tray slides in rhythm. Stop too fast and your whole dinner shifts sliding to the “lip” of the tray and teetering there to see if you are quick enough to counter gravity and send the whole thing sloshing back toward you without tipping all of the barbeque sauce and coke all over you. 

I suppose the cast members have long boring days and watching hapless happy guests play the game with their trays passes the time.

So his search includes opening and closing the doors to all the balconies while balancing his waxed up, zero friction tray (wouldn’t automatic doors be really nice here? I guess that would bore the CM’s also). I spot him coming for us saving the precious nuggets and sodas. I generously open the last of four million balcony doors for him. The kids devour their meals and Mr. A and I toast sodas. While he was ordering, he was told that they were all out of chicken. (The only thing my kids eat). Mr. A started to panic, within seconds, a Cast Member appears to tell the service counter person that chicken is in again. Now that's what I like to see. Unlike the “discontinued” almonds, chicken's either out or it's in. There's hope with the chicken.

So while the kids have their in chicken. Mr. A and I start to plan our escape.

Bittersweet Seraphim

Just a picture that is inspiration for Crushed Seraphim's sequel.

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Disney Trip part #9

As we are seconds away from facing the parking attendant, with only $6.40 in hand, I have to summon up skills of reasoning, charm, and persuasiveness that I have gleaned from my ancestors. I hearken back to some ancient family lore to see if I'll be able to wring some inspiration from them…

~ My mother frantically searching for her car keys, while driving down the road at 60 miles per hour. I wish I could say I have no idea how this feels. But I can’t.

That story is no help .

~My mother and her friend driving down the road for a shopping trip. Mom is in her brand new automatic car, after trading in a stick shift she has had for years. She spots a nice little antique store with the shop keeper outside. She and her friend decide to stop in for a look see. At 55 miles per hour mom hits the “clutch," diving the nose of the car into the ground much like a Flintstones cartoon. Her lovely friend, luckily buckled in, slaps around like a rag doll. 

Her friend stares in shock at my mother and asks breathlessly, “Did we hit a deer?” 


My mother maneuvers the car into the parking lot. The shopkeeper runs into her store as fast as she can, thinking she is going to make the sale of a lifetime after what she has witnessed. My mother and her friend are screaming laughing and can’t get out for fear of wetting their pants.

That story is no help whatsoever .

~My mother , in her sunglasses, driving quite a distance, through heavy traffic. When she finally gets to her destination, she flips down the mirror to check her hair. Good thing she did. She had a maxi pad stuck to the arm of her sunglasses the entire time.

I have a maxi pad, but I can’t imagine where I could stick it that would help me in my current situation .

~My mother , sister and I laughing hysterically at the warning tag on Mom’s new electric paint remover. The tag said “Do Not Use As a Hair Dryer." Though the product looks similar to a hair dryer, the super nova hot heating element would obviously deter anyone from using it as a hair dryer. They didn't need this silly warning. Actually, I wish they had left it off. Mom didn't see it as a warning. She saw it as a hint. Like from Heloise. 

On the fateful day in the 1989, I was sculpting my wickedly stylish “bangs-sticking-straight-up” hair. The unthinkable happened. The hair dryer broke. I'd never create “the look” With out any of my three essentials 1) hair dryer 2) hair spray 3) curling iron; I'd go to High School with the most dreaded condition a teenage girl could face. Flat Hair. Mother, faced with a hormonal teen gets to thinking. There's a picture in her head of a hair dryer, if you carefully erase the red circle with the line through it, you can save the day! While I freak out at the kitchen table, Mom goes to the garage. When she appears, I laugh at her joke. Then she plugs it in.
 
Me- “Mom?”
 
Mother- “Trust me.”
 
Me- “Mom!”

The element starts to glow. I'm transfixed by the reddish, purple pulsating of the hottest thing I've ever been this close to...

Mom is saying -“I won’t even go close! Trust me!” 

She's blocking my way out with her glowing instrument. I see the tag that was soooo funny, now mocking me. I lock eyes with my Mom, she advances. I crawl out under the table and scurry, army style into the dining room. The cord will only go so far. I'm safe. Thank God cordless technology was not widely available yet. I would have been powerless against “the Run” 

 Now, was mom really going to dry my hair with the paint remover? Or was she trying to show me there are scarier things in life than not arriving to school with my I-just-ran-into-a-wall-at-high-speed hair style perfectly in place? I think we all know the answer to that one.

~ What can I glean from this recollection? Hmmm. I do not have a weapon. Except. The Jiggler!

The scariest weapon known to man! As we pull up to the window, I glance in. Just before I unsnap my shorts, I see the smooth face of an angelic teen boy. I can’t do it to him. He's too innocent, too young. I roll down the window, and do what my mother would do…
I give him a big smile. And I start my explanation, while Mr. A dials Mom’s cell phone, in case the attendant needs to talk to her. I know this is fruitless, she's in a car with no place to bury her phone. But it keeps him from worrying. My explanation in one giant fast talking breath goes like this…

”Hi there.. lovely evening we have I have a problem you see my mother works here and she was with us when we came in the park and she has free parking but my father who is contracting in Orlando dropped by to pick her up from us you see he has this horrible commute and I am hoping he gets his schedule adjusted to three days a week because it is really to much for him so Mom likes when she can take the commute with him and we usually have a resort pass but not this time and so now I am worried but I do have this here money it’s …. $6.40”

I hold out four wrinkled bills and a blob of change.

The attendant lifts one eyebrow. Then he laughs, refuses my money and says, “Go ahead in ma'am.” 

We thank him and take a sigh of relief. Disney Magic .

We're off to park. Our relief is short lived. Our fear of the April Crowds puffs up like welts on Mr. A’s back after a cat climbed up it.

Well I guess that statement requires some explaining.

When Mr. A and I were newlyweds, I convinced him to adopt a cat. We went to the local shelter and fell in love with a cat . We named her King Friday. When she was adjusting to our apartment, she had trouble with the litter box. She would do her business and than step in it, with all four feet and then track it around the furniture and carpet. It was very disgusting. One night, around 3am, I stumbled out to use the bathroom. The cat and I crossed paths and I knew she had been up to no good. I screamed for Mr. A, who stumbled out in his boxers. Our apartment was very old and the walls were thin. Our bathroom shared a wall with our neighbor’s bedroom (a nice, quiet couple). So..I handed him the disgusting cat and steered the duo to the bathroom. 

Now, our water situation was insane. Starting up the bath or shower sounded like a jet taking off and the water pressure peeled the first three layers of skin off your body. My plan is to have Mr. A stand in the tub holding the cat while I close the door and prevent the cat from escaping. 

Done. 

Now, Mr. A is still mostly asleep when I turn on THE WATER. The cat’s eyes go wild. and she immediately manages to jump out of Mr. A's hands by twisting and somehow going vertical enough to flip over and land on his back where he can’t reach her. Since he’s wearing no shirt she is using his skin to firmly establish her refusal to take a bath. My poor hubby is bent over screaming in agony and beating the wall with his fist while he flails his other arm wildly trying to dislodge King Friday from his back. He can’t reach the cat and it is up to me. 

All I can think to do is bop the cat in the face. Repeatedly, like a bad soap opera. The cat has the choice of the water-filled bath, the tile wall (which it can’t climb up) or the crazy women that's repeatedly tapping her in the nose every time she moves my way. This, of course, causes the cat to dig in deeper. 

Finally, after I realize I need to stop jabbing the cat and back up, she jumps off. I still feel bad about that one. Feel bad for the cat, Mr. A and the couple next door who looked at us really funny later that morning .

Those scratches really welted up. Don’t feel bad for Mr. A, he got me back when he electrocuted me with his ridiculous lamp he had from college.

…So we are directed to park (at the end of the row, of course) and we note the signage. Dopey…. Holy Smokes! We are parked in a dwarf. I did not even know they had dwarf parking. Is Mickey sending us a not so subliminal message by parking us in Dopey?!!! Mr. A looks at me ominously

Him- “We’ve never parked in a dwarf before.”
 
Me-  “Maybe there are a lot of spaces up front from people who have left and they’re just filling up the back rows before they re-park people closer to the front?”
 
Him- "…………….."
 
Me- “What? Is that not a possibility?”
 
Him- “It’s a good thing your pretty.”
 
Me- “Don’t get your Crocs in a twist…just relax, It’s Disney, we’ll have a good time.”
 
BC- “Will we get to ride the tram this time?”
 
Him- “Oh yeah, it’ll be a nice long ride on the tram son.”
 
BC- “Cool! that’s one of the best things at Disney”

After a nice long, crowded tram ride. We arrive at Ticket and Transportation. BC loves the monorail so we head there first.. 

Kristy's Happenings: Poughkeepsie Review

Kristy's Happenings: Poughkeepsie Review: I have 2 songs that I picked for this review.  I thought they both were equally perfect for this book and I couldn't pick one over the other...

Places You Can Get You Some

POUGH!

There are THREE places to win Poughkeepsie during the:

Darhk Portal is giving away TWO eCopies of Poughkeepsie!

 

The hosts of the event, Sam, E and R's Awesomeness are giving away a Signed, Hugged, PRINT copy of Poughkeepsie  and a giant BLOB of swag!

And last and least: Me! I'm giving away a Signed, Hugged, Print Copy of Poughkeepsie and another BLOB of swag. The swag includes TWO crystal charm bracelets! What? I know! I make these bad larrys at my dining room table like a freakshow and they are pretty! Please sign up for you chance to WIN! (P.S. SER's Awesomeness has the same swag pack, so that's even more chances to bling yourself out.)

*PS, that is swag bookmarks that look like my book covers! Temporary Tattoos! The crystal bracelets have book-themed charms.

The Poughkeepsie one has a cross, music clef, knife and knitting needles. The Crushed Seraphim one has two snowflakes, a heart or cross and an angel wing.


Let's dance about this giant awesome together!

XOXO ~Debra

Small Treasures Blog Hop

   

Hey Guys!  My sweet friends at SER Awesomeness are having an amazing blog hop to celebrate Small Press Treasures. Below, for the hop I will be giving away a signed copy of Poughkeepsie, a handmade bracelet, two temporary tattoos and a Poughkeepsie train schedule to one lucky winner. This giveaway is international. Also, I'm giving away more prizes on SER Awesomeness, so please sign up there as well.
 In the spirit of small treasures I have a recommendation for you! My publisher, Omnific Publishing, is amazing. They take risks on books that tell a fantastic story and although they have all that a book requires to make it professional and enjoyable, they strive to keep the author's story as close to their original vision as possible. That means the art that you get to read in the final, completed book will not be diluted. Considering I write some really crazy things, I appreciate the hell out of it. So my recommendation for you is to drop by Omnific and take your pick. There's not a stinker in the bunch!

  
a Rafflecopter giveaway     

Disney Trip part #8

So I have learned some things in the time between my last chapter and this one. First off, Never ask Mr. A, “How was your day?” when he is in the middle of Hasselhoffing a burger . Second, Vagisil and Orajel are two very different products in alarmingly similar packages.




Back to the trip report.


Where were we? Oh that is right! I was wisely deciding to take the Anastasias to the superpackedalious Magic Kingdom.. As we finish up our time at Innoventions, we head to the Disney Visa pictures. Two cast members are waiting. We show our Disney card, and unlike last time, It actually gets us something special in Disney. The kids walk in before us. Who is there but PLUTO !!! The kids’ two favorite characters! Disney Magic. The kids come out glowing and laughing. I love that special little place. We have fun posing for pictures. and MICKEY


Before we set off to the Kingdom, we decide to make a few essiantial purchases. Mostly Crocs and Croc jibblitz (as GC calls them). We wander over to Mouse Gear. We instantly wish we printed money for a living. The kids pick out some little trinkets. Disney Bus toys and Chip and Dale holding hands in their new outfits. And of course Pluto, in his new outfit. And a monorail. And a shirt for Mr. A. And a Christmas ornament, because we always get a Christmas ornament. Mr. A and I decide to go “a little crazy ”. We would make better adult impersonators if we did this less often. All it takes is a Tuesday, a store and one of the two of us getting a wild hair.


So we stand in front of the glistening rubber/styrofoam of the Mickey Head Crocs. The stand is taller than us. The colors are glorious and plentiful. I'm already wearing a pair of Crocs. Only in Disney would you buy the same exact shoes you are already wearing, to swap them for ones with Mickey shaped holes. As a matter of fact, I wanted those pink Crocs so bad, I would have eaten my black pair if it was a requirement to get the Mickey ones. Do they pump in anesthetic to numb the financial reasoning button in your brain?


So I pick out the right size, and glance at Mr. A. He's looking at his feet. Then he's looking at the Mickey Crocs. Then at his feet. Hmm. I wonder. He has always bucked the Crocs I have tried to force on him. Like a dog afraid of the vacuum. He thinks they are girly. Real men won’t wear Crocs.


In amazement I realize that Disney has the power to smooth over gender boundries like icing on a cake . We are all unisex in Disney. Like the Ken and Barbie dolls with nothing in their pants. Mr. A is willing to stomp on his manliness to purchase more Disney products. Disney marketers are geniuses and we are easy prey.


Me -“Would you like a pair?”
Him- “No... well... I mean I couldn’t wear them in public or non-Disney public anywa.y”
Me-“Only the Drive thru people think you're a girl, no one else, I promise.”


I think of just the week before, waiting with the kids and Mr. The King to be seated at Cheeseburger in Paradise. The lady across from us whips out an exact replica of Mr. A's brand new pride and joy, the Cherry Chocolate Verizon phone. It matches her bag so nicely. Then the next lady we see is wearing the same Keen sandals as Mr. The King .
I don’t remind him.


Him-“Well, I could wear them walking the dogs.”


He had a wild hair... in a store... so it’s on like Donkey Kong.


With two pairs of grown up Crocs and Jibblitz for the kids, and Jibblitz for my new pink Crocs and all the other necessities we picked out we waddle over to to the check out. As we are waiting, we notice a lovely throw. With Mickey and all the parks represented. Me and Mr. A make happy noises about the blanket. It would look so nice in our living room, folded just so. We load up our “essentials” to be checked out. We're informed by the bubbly cast member, that we have spent so much money we are entitled to buy three blankets! Well, we felt like we won the lotto. Disney is letting us buy more stuff! We can buy three blankets! We're so lucky. Excited chatter from the A's.

Him-“Should we buy all three?”

Me-“But of course, we are ENTITLED to them! ”
Him-


Mr. A talks me down. We buy one. Look at those woman Crocs giving him some sense! Maybe they were a good idea. Next, we are informed that the jibblitz do not work in the grown up Crocs. They fall out. Do I put back my Jibblitz? No! Now I can Disneyfy my old boring black crocs. I'm so glad I didn’t eat them.


We get outside and of course, find a bench near those giant bouncing balls. Those cast members have so much fun throwing those things around. And we put on our Mickey Head Crocs. There's peace in my soul. Finally, I was home in Disney with the Disney approved shoes, I can relax now. Mr. A is having issues. He is slap flopping around in huge woman Crocs. They're way too big. Mr. A worries about returning Crocs that he has already walked in. Please man, we're in Disney take those suckers back! He returns with the next smaller size. And they're too small. Mr. A has an unorthodox, unDisney approved foot size, apparently. I know, I was shocked too. We're working through it, with counseling and lots of booze...but it has been rough. He makes due with the small Crocs by wearing them with the band up. Shame on his foot .


We head towards the front of Epcot. I remember at the last minute to pick up our free Disney Visa picture. We wave goodbye to our tiny tiny heads. And get into the van at the end of the row. Which we couldn't find because our clever little Mickey antenna ball is rendered useless in a Disney lot (Also Wal-Mart, Target, The school parking lot and pretty much everywhere except our driveway). I beg Mr. A to just hit the panic button and we'll find the van but this is apparently like asking him to pull over and ask for directions (the anesthetic gender smoothing magic does not reach all the way to the parking lot). Finally, he agrees to press the button but the van makes no noises.
PC says, "Man, our van is calm."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Well it dosen't even panic when you hit the button" .


Eventually We find the van at the very end of the row where we left it. Have Park Hoppers will hop!




So we hop to the Kingdom. There's something very different about the Anastasia mobile. Something important has changed since the Jiggler was parked in its vehicle. Can you remember what it was?


That’s right, I was in the backseat. Now I'm in the front seat. My Mother had gone home with my father. With her went our handy dandy free cast memeber parking. Usually we have luxurious, multiple day visits with a happy resort pass living on our dashboard. We don’t think of this until we are one car away from the parking attendant.


Do they take credit cards? No
Do we have cash? No


I dig around in my Bagallini and come up with $6.40. Parking is more than that. Mr. and Mrs. A look at each other with eyes as wide as saucers . Will our hop be a flop?

__________________


**PS This trip report was written back when the Verizon Chocolate was new.
The Mr.'s was like so:

and mine was the Mint Chocolate:

I still miss that phone. It was so fun to open and close. Best color ever too. Smart phones are boring looking. My Droid is busy trying to revolt against me now. It won't let me type, which makes things interesting. I have to do speech to text all the time. and you know how well that works, right? Anytime I mention my son's name, the phone reports it in a text or email as "Fishcake."


Fun times. Anyhoozle. That's Disney! This is a hop!!