What if it is cheese, indeed

In all the hubbub surrounding my car blowing up, deciding to get a new car, talking with actual, real, live salesman, deciding which car to purchase, eating several delicious bowls of tapioca pudding, entertaining second thoughts on a decision (cars, that is. When it comes to pudding, Je ne regrette rien.), ignoring obtrusive phone calls from overeager salesmen, wondering why I thought spending 5 figures for a new vehicle made more sense than spending barely 4 figures to get my Jetta fixed, and ultimately, scrapping the whole idea in order to better enjoy the Tour de France, I neglected to mention that I'm going to Disney World. In fact, one week from today that's where I'll be along with Marisol and Buster.

Sometime ago I had this crazy notion that I would try to take them this summer. Partly because they'd never been and partly because I'm always looking for an excuse to go back. I was not particularly demanding in my planning but did have a few modest goals in mind. Namely, go when the crowds would be their largest and the Florida temps would be their most hellish. I figure what better place to be miserable than "The happiest place on Earth." After much thought and prayer, I chose the final week in July. Yes, I am awesome. I know.

As this is Marisol's & Buster's first to Mouseville, I wanted them to get the full experience. And that includes long lines, tired feet and screaming kids. I can't lie. It's great fun when you can hop on rides with little wait or march right up to Mickey and shake his hand without having to kick a rugrat or two out of the way. But in order to truly appreciate those moments, one has to earn it. To be in the shit, as we said back in 'Nam. Admittedly, even on the best of days at WDW, Andy would probably rather be in Vietnam but then he's not invited. He (and us) will get our chance with Baby Zeigler in a few years. Andy's already started popping Valium for that trip.

Much like last fall's trip abroad, the EPJ has been expecting my bags to have been packed sometime ago. Each morning for the past 6 months, I've been asked if I was packed. Much like last fall's trip abroad, I expect my bags will get packed sometime Monday night. Unless the EPJ comes over sooner and does them, of course.


Yeah, I know I'm a day late. It took that long to clear the publishing clearing house. Which is not the same as Publisher's Clearing House, just so you know.