This One's for You, Brandy - Florida Part 3.

The long drive to Orlando (which was approximately 200 miles from Miami). Why yes . . . yes they do prop up their trees. Our timeshare representative even shared the fascinating fact that they only have a few deaths per year caused by trees being blown onto the highway . . .

Ah . . . sunny Orlando. Where the gift shops are in stiff competition and use fantastic eye-catching gimmicks to try and attract your business.

At least the wind kept the bugs off :P :P :P

The second hotel was much better than the first. Our bathroom had a slight issue - the shower rod had been broken and bowed out, and one of the towel racks was crooked. Taken together, it looked like the bathroom was collapsing in on itself. I nicknamed it the "imploding bathroom."


Most of my exploration in Orlando seemed to be centered around places to eat lunch and dinner. There is only one thing I can say to the following image. Fear me.

Given that A. is only four (er . . . three - four next month), I figured that Disney World would be a lot of money not very well spent - so we went to Sea World. (Who am I kidding? I love Sea World. I would go there over Disney any day :P :P :P) Sea World was awesome. The second exhibit we blundered into was a petting pool for sting rays. A. was enchanted. The stingrays really reacted well to A. - veering out of their normal patterns and zooming over to him. I couldn't figure out what was going on until I saw another visitor feeding the stingrays a long slender fish that bore a strong resemblance to the exact size and shape of A.'s fingers . . . Yes. The stingrays were trying to eat my child. :P :P :P

After that, we visited the manatees, and were fortunate enough to catch them at feeding time. I got A. to smile the rest of the day by saying "Say, cheese with the manatees!"

Then we found the underwater dolphin cave - which was more than amazing. The pictures do far more justice than any description. The animals were so close that A. kept trying to touch them. And the dolphins were obviously just as curious about the kids and the other people - swimming up to the glass and looking at us with their wise black eyes.

In Colorado, we have pigeons. In Florida, they have strange white birds that run under your table and eat spilled french fries.

It wouldn't be Sea World without Shamu.

T. was eventually allowed on the flight home (there was some concern that he might burst an eardrum - but all is well that ends well). And, of course, as we headed for the airport, the sun came out and the skies turned blue.

All in all, it was a good vacation. Though I think I might stick with an all inclusive resort next time. And I am proud to say - I came home - AND I DON'T OWN A TIMESHARE. MU HA HA HA HA HA.

The Fun Begins! Florida Part 2.

Sunny Ft. Lauterdale. Any dreary weather is a technical malfunction of the camera. Really. . .


And for anyone who complains about Colorado gas prices:


Sunny Miami, where we boarded the ship (note, the pictures of the boat were actually taken in Cozumel - where the weather was BEAUTIFUL). A. checked to make sure the beds were properly bouncy.

The ship was wonderful! T. and I participated in a pub crawl - five drinks in 2.5 hours - in Key West (thank heavens you have a higher tolerance for alcohol when you go from a high altitude to a low altitude . . . or T. would have been carrying me back to the ship!). I enjoyed the outing far more than I expected - and our tour was chosen as one of the tours of the week - which meant Carnival sent a cameraman along who filmed the whole thing. Very cool.

Note: The last picture is not fuzzy. The camera was drunk. Of course, I blame the heavy drinking early in the day and the technical difficulties with the weather (the boat was rocking) for the light bout of seasickness that evening . . . but I REGRET NOTHING!

The ship left port (yes, we were safely on board . . . ) and we headed for Cozumel - which we explored one entire block of. Senor Frog's was at the edge of the pier, and I had no idea that their drinks came in two-foot palm tree glasses! YIKES! Luckily, I learned from M. that all the shops in Mexico carry pretty much the same items, so I didn't feel like we missed much, even though we only hit the tourist shops in the near vicinity. I purchased a Mayan calendar (very cool) and two very cute purses made entirely out of candy wrappers (way cool!).

The cruise was relaxing and wonderful . . . even if the seas were a little rough (that darned technical weather glitch again . . . ). I was vastly amused by the following yellow sign:



After Cozumel, T. began having strange pains in his ear. That night, he was in absolute agony - and stayed in the cabin the entirety of the next day (which was just the boat chugging across the gulf - the marketing department labeled it "Fun Day at Sea!"). The next day, we made port in sunny Miami, picked up the van (intact this time - HOORAY!), and drove to Florida.

By the time we checked in, it was too late for T. to hit doctor's hours, but he called to find the closest Urgent Care facility - and made plans to go there at 8:00 a.m. 8:00 a.m. - T. leaves for Urgent Care - and my mother-in-law and I leave for a second, unexpected timeshare presentation (they hit you at both ends of the cruise). When our turn came to be handed over to the timeshare representative, she huffily asked about my husband. I informed them that he was at an Urgent Care, and would try and join us later if he could. They then informed me that I was worthless without my male counterpart, and that I would not be allowed to participate in the timeshare and must reschedule. Conflicting emotions . . . vaguely . . . offended . . . at being thrown out of a timeshare. Arggghhh . . . They refused to give me tickets to Arabian Nights (whoop dee doo da) as punishment and threw my mother-in-law and I out. Luckily, the timeshare was located next to a gift store, so we shopped until T. could come pick us up.

Two intramuscular penicillin shots and four prescription medications later . . . the doctor apparently told T. that he was fairly impressed at his ability to even be functioning - considering that his ear infection was so severe it had spread down his neck and was beginning to enter his lungs - which could have led to potentially fatal issues. Which left A. and I pretty much on our own for Orlando - which will be continued in Part 3!

In the Beginning . . . Flordia Part 1

There was a boat at the end of the rainbow after all . . . or should I say, at the end of the cobblestone street, with potholes, open sewer lines, and a few broken wagon wheels.

Overall, the vacation was a wonderful and positive experience . . . with a few dark crevices here and there . . . We landed in Ft. Lauterdale on Saturday, picked up our rental van, and located a place to eat within a block of the hotel. Sadly, when we came out of the restaurant, we were greeted by the following sight:

Apparently, someone busted through the passenger side window in order to swipe our GPS unit. Luckily it was a grab and run . . . and we were very grateful to find all our suitcases and other valuables intact. We spent our first afternoon in Florida filling out the police report and receiving assistance from the restaurant staff (THANK YOU JESSE!) in removing all of the broken glass. After forty minutes of trying on two cell phones and being transferred to the wrong department and/or hung up on at least fifteen times, I finally got to the correct Alamo representative, and T. and I drove the van back to the airport for an exchange. We waited patiently in the Alamo car line for twenty minutes, only to be told that our problem was a customer service problem, and the front desk Alamo representative could not help us. He sent us to their customer service department. We arrived to find the following:

Surprise. Surprise. (Admittedly, the representative showed up about 30 seconds later, but it was still damn funny). After we got the van squared away, we checked into the Ramada in Ft. Lauterdale - which had its own interesting issues. Do you notice a size discrepency?

Their room (note the kitchenette):

Our room: (No seriously . . . this is as far away from the beds as I could get.)

My mother-in-law bragged about getting the larger room . . . until she discovered 1) she had no hot water in the shower; and 2) she was sharing her room with a giant cockroach we nicknamed Fred and debated buying a leash for. Of course, our room had its own distinct charm.

Blue toilet water. Yellow bath water. I was tempted to mix them together and see if we got green, but wasn't quite brave enough to go through with the experiment. Our hotel experience was complete when maintenance dropped by early the next day to inform us our toilet was leaking on the folks down below.

"When are we going to have fun again?" both my mother-in-law and T. asked.
"I told you," I explained patiently. "When we get past the cursed Ramada portion of the trip and actually board the ship."

The Cruise at the End of the Rainbow . . .

After five long years of suffering at the hands of endless hold music; after being threatened by supervisors, hung up on by peons, and sent apology gift certificates that I only have to pay 50% of the total cost to use . . . there is, indeed, a cruise at the end of the Rainbow.

I am officially preparing to depart on February 16, 2008 for the Carnival ship Fascination (please note that I have no beef with Carnival - which is a reputable cruise line - my beef is with the scam travel agents who sold me the cruise). Unless, of course, the timeshare people lead me into an aquarium and hand out popscicle sticks with little cut-outs of the Carnival cruise ship on them. Really, at this point, I wouldn't be surprised.

Aside from hopping A. up on Mountain Dew and donuts and letting him run wild, I have decided I will give the timeshare folks one last chance. When they ask me to buy something, I will very calmly say: "I would rather beat you bloody with a stick than buy another product from your company, and if you are very wise, you will not ask me why." If they do ask, I will patiently explain the entire 40 minute story to everyone in the room.

But as long as I survive the next week without going homicidal (vs. suicidal, which is their other marketing ploy) . . . there is a cruise. There really really is a cruise.

And since I finally bought a new camera, I'll even be able to post pictures!

Bon voyage everyone. I shall return sometime after 02/26/08.

P.S. For the curious - the furnace is officially fixed for the low price of only $200 (WHEW!!!!). I also apparently have a vintage 1982 furnace in perfect condition - no rust spots or cracks, which according to the furnace man is nigh impossible. The problem was my limiter was stuck open . . . and the second problem was very few folks have parts for a 1982 furnace. It seems they don't make them anymore. Huh. Luckily, furnace man patiently dug around in his vehicle (blowing dust off the shelves, I imagine) and at long last, found a piece he has carried around for several years that could be converted to fit my antique roadshow piece. I have officially named the furnace "Old Bessy." Let us hope she lives up to her namesake.

Farewell Xcel

Good news: my Xcel bill may be low this month.
Bad news: because the furnace quit working.

T. did an excellent job changing out the thermostat (the old one had blown a fuse) - but the great beast lurking in the basement continues to only blow cold air. A friend was kind enough to come over this evening and show me how to change a thermocouple (not only do I know what a thermocouple is . . . I know how to change it. Wow!) - but to no avail. Fan? Check. Pilot light? check.

Heat?

I've been telling folks that T. and I are protesting Xcel's recent price hikes by going on a "heat strike" (j-j-join us, it-t-s not-t-t so b-b-bad), but the bottom line is . . . you don't know what you've got until you lose it. I recommend taking a moment to appreciate any indoor space that is above 55 degrees Farenheit. Ahhh. Doesn't that make you feel better?

Tomorrow we give in and call the furnace repair people. Wish me luck!

In Preparation for the Zombies . . .

The great gun debate.

I always think that I should learn how to handle a gun - if only so I don't shoot my own foot off - but I've never had any real desire to handle that particular type of weaponry. I have actually been exposed to guns (my dad used to shoot rabbits in the backyard for dinner - not recommended and probably not legal . . . :P ) and had plenty of chances to shoot my dad's pistols and rifles - but I don't get any thrill from pulling the trigger. The allure is lost on me.

My friend M. went shooting today. When I explained the great internal gun debate, she responded: "You should probably at least learn. Think of it as preparation for the zombies."

"What?" I said laughing. "You don't think the world is going to go "Resident Evil" or some such, do you?"

"There's hardly anything worse than zombies," she said. "I figure if you prepare for zombies, you're prepared for anything."

Why didn't I think of that?