Oh My Shins!

The sun is setting over the palm trees, and we are listening to the sounds of the Starship Enterprise fighting off a Borg attack in the hotel room. Possible correction: Jerod is engaged in the Borg attack, while I am happily keeping company with the laptop.

Sometimes travel-logs can be tedious, the online version of looking at someone's vacation slides. But then, you are not trapped in my dark living room looking at pictures of me in front of every cool thing I experienced and you did not...so get your click on if you find me uninteresting. :)

Several things I've learned during my stay in Orlando. I love ordered lists, even when there is no need for ordering, so I shall order.

Number One: If I were dropped on a tropical island by an airplane crash (hmmm...might I be thinking of my favorite show?)...the first thing I would think about, and probably continue to think about for days on end would be the lack of air-conditioning. Next to antibiotics, I believe air-conditioning to be the greatest invention of the 20th century. Go Universal for having almost all of your lines in the glorious coolant-relieved air.
Number Two: I must have every square inch of exposed skin slathered in copious amounts of sunscreen before venturing outdoors. I am the same color as a light bulb. I did a good job on this trip. I have, in the past, forgotten sunscreen on various individual parts of my body. You'd be surprised what five hours on the beach will do to the tender skin behind your knees when they are fried beyond recognition. Simple walking becomes difficult. I succeeded in my slathering! Hurrah!
Number Three: People will wear anything, everything, and not enough when they are on vacation. I saw a pregnant woman (like 8 mos. preggie) in a bikini in the park. Um, lady...every ride advises you NOT to ride...why are you here? And why are you wearing a bikini when you're not swimming? Flip flops were also in abundance. Podiatrists are going to have a field day in about ten years. Yes, I am getting old. And I have been to the podiatrist. He fixed up my Fred-Flintstone-flat-feet. Podiatry would be a good field to get into based on what I saw people walking around in. Flat, dollar store flip flops. That's my version of hell.
Number Four: English people are taking over Orlando. Rightfully so, since the dollar is meager compared to the mighty pound. They feel like they're paying halvsies for everything. I'm so silly. I still like to stand near them in line and hear them talk. Humidity was a common theme of discussion.
Number Five: Flat irons for the hair are irrelevant here. I found waves I didn't know I could grow.
Number Six: After hours of walking around in the heat and waiting in lines, the bed sucked me under as if in coma state for several hours of bona fide naptastic awesome rest. There was no fighting the coma. You had to surrender.
Number Seven: We are intrigued by the climate here. As avid plant-lovers, we toured a botanical garden (great respite from the overload of the noisy parks). What we found there were plants that could eat humans if they so chose. (Hello, THE HAPPENING?) The winters must be so mild and the climate semi-tropical...so things grow to the size of...well, me! There was a peace lily (for my non-plant people...those are the ubiquitous green houseplants that shoot up a white lily-like flower) that was taller than I am!! In the ground. Cactuses and houseplants, all growing to about 10x the size we normally see. Bizarre and scary.
(annoying Star Trek music in the background...Has Jean-Luc Picard been assimilated by the Borg? What to do?)
Number Eight: I love roller coasters. There's no way around it. Poor Tall One cannot ride them due to equilibrium issues and impending motion sickness. I want to have a roller coaster in my backyard. How fabulous. I would ride it every day before my coffee.
I have no more numbers. The post title just comes from the recurring theme of our conversation every time we stood up or walked for the first four days. OH MY SHINS! Concrete can be mean and play dirty.
Vacation is fabulous. We did not get to Sea World this time, but have had a BLAST regardless. I will meet Shamu one day!! Hurrah. And tomorrow, back to the real world...class tomorrow night and then back to work. Ahhhh...vacay forever.


Sunny Orlando...I'm coming!

I'm leaving...on a jet plane...

Tomorrow...Tomorrow...I love ya...tomorrow...You're only a daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay aaaaaaaa-waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

It's generally good to start off a post with song, isn't it? Just because you can't hear it, doesn't mean I'm not singing loud enough.

Off to sunny and hot Orlando tomorrow for some R & R (I plan to nap liberally and read liberally). What a blessing to be able to get away, enjoy some entertainment, soak up precious time with the Tall One, and eat vacation foods.

I'll be back armed with photos, a sunburned scalp (seriously...as if anything could be whiter than my face, I think my scalp is glow-in-the-dark white), and sore feet. Perhaps there will be adventures to share. In the midst of days when I rush around to finish projects for school or work, I am thankful to have some days when my decisions center around riding a ride, eating a burger or chicken?, and how long can I afford to nap in the middle of the day. Luxurious frivolities. I really hope to see Shamu and get his autograph. You have no idea what a hero he is to me.


Ain't Happening

SPOILER ALERT. If you intend to see "The Happening" by M. Night Shymalan and do not want any spoilers...LEAVE NOW. You have been warned.

This is the single-worst movie I've ever seen. Any movie that makes you laugh at people committing suicide in mass should earn that title. We did, however, come up with some theories as to why it is soooooo bad:
1. It's all a joke. Spoof for Friday the 13th. M. Night having some fun at our expense and the expense of the production company, because this one will TANK in ticket sales.
2. M Night is Al Gore's lover. The alternate title for this movie is "An Inconvenient Truth: Revenge of the Fig Leaves"
3. M Night made a comedy without a laugh track just to see what it would do to people.
4. He realized during the filming that he had no actual story, so he added in as many creative suicide scenes as he could fit into the film, just for kicks and good times.
5. M Night just wanted to make a rated R film, so he and his drinking buddies played a game one night..."1000 ways to Snuff out your Life"
6. This movie is M Night's cry for help. Friends are planning an intervention over the weekend.
7. M Night is tired of the pressure to be the next Spielberg, and this film is an homage to his own career suicide. He just wants to be left in peace, people!
8. The crucial scene was cut from our copy of the movie. Don't go to the Pineville theatre. They have the wrong copy!
9. We should have been given a secret serum to drink that would have made this movie make some sense. We declined to drink the thick flourescent drink they were handing out at the door. Our bad.
10. M Night's houseplants have been ganging up on him in the middle of the night...and by houseplants, I mean WEED. The weed is talking to the M Night, y'all.

Worst. Movie. Ever.
The lines were delivered with all the panache of a beige throw pillow. None of the dialogue was believeable...I mean, not even REMOTELY. Most of our packed theatre was just laughing by the end. The only scary part was at the home of Mrs. Jones (dang, another bad "Jones" movie this month...what up Joneses?). The doll and the woman were far scarier than the is-it-the-plants? story line and the not-at-all-scary breezes. And, did anyone notice the row of houseplants in the window at the end? I would not be harboring anything with chlorophyll in my home...I am sorely disappointed in this once-Genius who seems to be walking a fine line between amazing and skydiving with no parachute. Splat.


Landsford Canal trip, Memorial Day

Spider Lilies are in bloom! They are wondrous to behold! Go behold them!

A few thoughts...

Sometimes I wait to write a blog until I am bursting with ideas. And sometimes I start out with no real idea at all. Lucky for you...here I am without an idea. But I don't like to neglect the blog, as it's like a friend to me now.
We made our annual trek to see the Spider Lilies in the Catawba River. (see photos) I'm not sure why we have to go see them every year. It's some reassurance that man has not wiped yet another species off the planet. These lilies only grow in Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina because their habitats have been decimated everywhere else. And we like to hike...and Jerod REALLY likes to see snakes in the wild. Last year, on our Memorial Day trek, we spotted no less than seven snakes, and a new type that Jerod did not know about. His eyes lit up like it was Christmas at the curious orange-bellied slithering thing. I will never understand this part of him. The little boy with a pocket-full of frogs lives on. No snakes this year, save one curled up far away in a tree. I tend to beep when I see a snake in the wild. Yes, I am at a complete loss for words, and just stand still pointing and beeping. Or once, I ran up the hill so fast, Jerod just saw my dust cloud go by. I have no use for the snake family.
Jerod has just three days left of school (pause for wild cheering from the stands)!!! I love it when he's home for summer. The dishes are magically done when I come home, the yard is all spruced up, and I get daily reports on what all he has accomplished. He accomplishes things I did not know needing doing such as trimming the middle branches of the maple tree and rigging up a solar light for the pond. He is his own "honey-do" list. No complaints here. If I could get a job that paid crazy amounts of money, I would let him stay home all day and whack away at a list.
Near the top of my summer list:
Do something about my junk room, I mean office. I am ashamed at my own ability to close a door and pretend that the pile of junk doesn't exist. I think the magazines have babies in there when we're not looking. Also on the summer list would be reading "Song of Solomon" by Toni Morrison. But I'll have to find it in the junk room first. "I know you're in there!!" I tell it sometimes, "I'm going to read you if I ever find you." I'm truly afraid that my small dog will go in and never come back out.
LOST is finally over for the year. I will miss my Lost friends (you know, the ones who live in the TV!). I cried at parts of the show as I squeezed the skin off Jerod's knobby knee. He didn't seem to mind. I don't understand how I'm going to make it until January for new episodes.
At least I'll have "Pushing Daisies..." It's renewed for Fall, and one of my favorite new shows. Quirky, mirthful, and slightly twisted...what more does one need in her entertainment? Give it look-see in September. Be a fan.
I am a fan of being well-rested. I think I'll put my tired bones to bed now that I've said everything on my mind worth publishing ("THIS is what was worth publishing??" you ask). Yes, it's all I have. Toodle-lee-do.