Moose in the Kitchen

My travel schedule has been seriously lax lately, so going to Florida over Memorial Day weekend felt very exotic. Weather where sundresses are a necessity rather than an endearing but futile attempt! People with southern accents! Hotel gyms! (I think the gym was the most exotic part of the whole trip, as the last time I went to a gym it was 1999. Seriously.)

Coming from San Francisco, land o’ winter coats in May, walking out of the airport into wet, tropical heat was surreal. Even more surreal than the daily downpours seeping into the mangled soles of the unwary (my green sneakers finally got tossed in the hotel garbage can after I realized that maybe three gaping holes meant new shoes would be a reasonable purchase). Torrential downpours are standard fare it seems, and I got quite adept at pulling a plastic poncho out of my purse and over my head without even breaking stride. Vacation can teach a person any number of useful personal insights, namely how annoyed I get by drunk men in hot tubs (very), how quickly we’ll brave sheets of rain to get to the next glass of wine (very), and how sad I am to abandon a pair of beloved shoes (also very).

We went to Disney World, a place I love unabashedly. Fake pirates, fake safaris, fake Eiffel Tower – what’s not to love? Sure, seeing kangaroos and flamingos and hippos in their native habitat would be incredible as would actually going to Germany – as opposed to Epcot’s questionable interpretation of Germany – but Disney World is great fun. Especially when you’re attacked by random birds for your ability to purchase french fries. (There’s a good picture of me almost losing a finger to an eager beak, and you’ll just have to take my word for that until pictures get uploaded into the digital world.) That goes in the memory bank, as does the full moon rising as the chains creaked us to the top of the roller coaster. And the fly flailing in a full glass of wine, a circumstance heart-breaking both in the fly’s valiant attempts to swim to safety and my sullied glass of rather nice white. I was tempted to fish it out and carry on drinking, but such uncouth action doesn’t really mesh with lobster bisque and fireworks filling the night sky above us.

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Florida pictures will be forthcoming. I usually wait until I have everything in one place, but as often as not that means things never get posted. And because this blog has been giving me some serious performance anxiety lately, I’ve decided to post every day. Every day for a month. Here is where I want to insert the wishy-washy disclaimer about how I might not actually do it, we’ll just have to see, but I don’t want to be that person, the one I so often am, who says she’ll do things and then…doesn’t. So. There we have it. In the meantime, take a look at Leah’s gorgeous pictures of Kristin and Scott’s wedding if you’re so inclined. Here’s the inevitable shot that crops up every time there’s a camera in the vicinity –  me, being…me. I really need to grill my mother about my true parentage, because I’m pretty sure I’m a muppet.

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