I felt slightly guilty about
that bacon on my plate
Mishka, Mooshka, Mickey Mouse. Did you miss me, my throngs of loyal readers? We just returned from our second Florida family vacation, and this time we submitted to the all powerful mouse. Perhaps I am turning into an old, sentimental fool, or maybe it's the rock bottom, third-ring-of-hell expectation I held prior to our visit, but I have nothing snarky or ironic to say about it. None of the characters I met smelled bad, the rides are hokey in the nicest possible way, and the breakfast that looked like a rip-off when I reserved it powered us through the day without needing to buy the dreaded and woeful Theme Park Family Meal of Desperation. All in all, it was a magic kingdom. After receiving her last dosage of magical elixir at 3 p.m., L held up beautifully despite not being able to breathe the night before (it turns out that breathing is a crucial ingredient to sleep). Add to all of that a wonderful hostess, beautiful weather, world-class beaches, and a mid-winter visit with Nana and Gramps, and I have just had the best vacation I can remember in a long time. This trip has made huge strides in restoring February to its rightful place as just another month, and, quite possibly a month I could actually look forward to once again.
I have crooked teeth from my parents and a wacky arm from a stroke. My daughter describes me as funny and smart, while she describes the other Linda from Mommy and Me as pretty and nice. So, I'm not pretty nor nice. I love the French people, French language (I'm fluent), French food, culture, architecture... In short, all of France! I'll read anything in front of me. I know more about middle school math than, well, anyone, INCLUDING my middle school math teacher husband (let's see if he reads this). I'm not happy if I'm not painting something.