Disneyland was INSANELY and unexpectedly crowded on this particular Sunday but we made the best of it. The stampede of stroller-pushing parents and their whiny kids forced me to seek refuge in the ice cream shop on Main Street. Long lines usually scare me away but not long lines that lead to ice cream.
With no fast pass line available for Space Mountain, we decided to go for Autopia. Fun ride. T is a good Autopia car driver and made sure I had a smooth and pleasant ride.
Captain EO didn’t have a line that wrapped around the corner so we decided to check it out. What a fun show. It was T’s first time watching it and my first time watching it in 10+ years. I loved every part of it- especially the choreography! I had to fight a strong urge to jump out of my seat and start dancing. Oh Michael, you were really one of a kind.
All in all fun day, despite the overcrowding. I did fall asleep on the train, though- whoops! Someone was nice enough to let me get some shut eye while the train made a FULL trip around the park, thanks! I love you, Disneyland! Your annual passes are costing an arm and a leg, but I LOVE YOU!
Hi guys! If you didn’t know, T’s birthday was on the 23rd of last month and one of my gifts to him was a renewal of our Disneyland Annual Passports. Given that we’re 15+ years older than the average ticket holder, 0ur love for this theme park is quite strange- there’s just something about the “Happiest Place on Earth” that keeps us coming back for more. Annual passes are quite expensive so T thought it would be nice if we had some documentation of our trips to remember exactly what we had paid for.
So here I am, with the Disney Report.
I spotted this little poodle/terrier taking a stroll down a street while on my drive to play basketball. I thought twice about pulling over because I knew I’d be really late if I did. But my inner Jessica got me to pull over.
I parked right next to him and he was very quickly a friend to me. I only had to squat for a few seconds and I found his head in my hand.
He wasn’t bothered with me picking him up or putting him in my car.
His collar said his name was Remosa, which confuses me because I’m pretty sure Remosa is a male dog because he peed in every corner he found.
I called the number on the number on the collar but could only leave a voicemail that I had the owner’s dog.
After waiting around for a few moments, I decided to let Remosa take a walk. I didn’t have a leash, which as a frequent dog finder, I probably should. But he walked off always keeping a set distance away from me, making sure I was behind him.
He lead me to a house which I thought was his. It turned out he was just curious about the dogs that lived there. Pit bulls, twice his size.
Pressed for time, an half hour had now passed and I had walked a few blocks away from my car; I called my IT department (Jessica). I had her look up the number of the cell phone I called. From there, she cross-referenced the name with the area I was in, and lo and behold, there was a hit. About 2 blocks the opposite direction I was walking was the person with the same name as the cell phone.
Remosa and I took the stroll to the house. No answer to the doorbell. No answer to knocking.
I walked to the back of the house, and through an open gate, I found a little dog’s living area missing a little dog. Remosa instantly went to get a drink from the bowl so I figured we were at the right place. I closed the gate behind him and petted him for a little bit.
I’m hoping I left him at the right house. As I left, I heard Remosa crying for attention.
I wonder, did the owner of the dog get my voicemail? They never called me back. I’m sure they were thinking, what is this call about, my dog is home. Or did I return the dog to the wrong house?
I don’t usually, but I miss the dog.
This morning, I heard my mom telling the kids that french toast was ready.
Later, while leaving for school, I found this on the kitchen table.
4 years from now, while sitting with their peers on a dining table at Camp Cedar Falls, Josh, Ethan and Megan may come to realize that eating french toast with ketchup is an absurd idea. Until then, and for the rest of their life, it’ll be commonplace for their grandmother’s kitchen table.