Ah me... no deposit of $355M into my checking account today...

Guess I'll have to go back to actually watching how I spend my money for my Roadtrip.

Which brings to mind the fact that a couple of my next venues are oceanside parks which are essentially free! I'll be visiting Belmont Park in San Diego and then wending my way up to the Santa Monica Pier. If I choose to not ride a ride I spend nothing; the walk through each park is free. The atmosphere doesn't cost a penny. The spray of the ocean, the warm breeze in my hair: priceless.

So there is more to life than a winning lottery ticket. I'm five dollars poorer than I was yesterday due to the purchase of said tickets. But I guess it was worth it, for the sheer thrill of it.

(((sigh)))

The Powerball Lottery is up to around 350 million dollars!

No, this has nothing to do with my book. But if I win tonight, it'll have everything to do with my book. Man, it would feel great to send abundant checks to the parks that are in need...

I hope thousands of people win and the wealth is shared!

Cotton Candy Goes to Whole Foods

Odd that. Or even blasphemous, right?

It started out when I learned I had four hours to burn in Chicago. I'd heard the new Lincoln Park Whole Foods is a sight to behold, a sensory overload experience for any health-conscious foodie, so I figured I'd go and get some badly-needed hand cream and see what was hopping there.

Welcome to Whole Foods, the Dino DeLaurentis production version, in Sensurround and Smell-O-Vision. It's easily the largest one I've ever been to, bright and shiny, spacious and airy. But it has something that other Whole Foods stores don't: eateries. Not just "grab 'n go" ones, but sit down stands offering everything from sushi to wine and cheese pairings, coffee to beer to gelato.

And blue plate specials. Hot dogs. Soda fountain service. This particular stand looked like a retro diner, so I checked it out more closely. It's themed, you see. And this is when my Roadtrip pulled up and Cotton Candy took over the store.

The diner area is themed after Chicago's legendary Riverview, complete with a mural featuring various rides, including the iconic Aladdin's Castle funhouse.

So you can wipe out an amusement park masterpiece, but its spirit will seek you out and show up in the most unlikely of places. Sometimes over forty years later, right between the gourmet olives and the Mrs. Meyers' cleaning products.

Where Walt hung his sweater...

I'm so anxious I can hardly bear it. Just learned a bit ago that my trip to Disneyland for the book will have a very special element: a visit to the exclusive Club 33. Now, for those of you who don't know, Club 33 is a members' only dining experience, housed in what was formerly Walt Disney's very own apartment inside Disneyland. Part of New Orleans Square, it's located near the Blue Bayou restaurant. There's just a tiny sign outside that tells you where it is, otherwise you'd miss it. This fantastic opportunity is possible through the generosity of a friend of mine who knows one of the Club's members. Yes, this person will receive great honors and accolades in my book, you can bet your bippy.

This is the stuff of legend, "once-in-a-lifetime" stuff. We'll have brunch there, an "all you can eat" buffet of scrumptiousness unrivaled anywhere else at Disney, then explore the park. I've been to Land many times, but this visit will be very special; I'll only focus on the rides and attractions that were there at least forty years ago (following my book's criteria). More specifically, I'll focus on the things that were a part of one of my most memorable trips ever: my girls' only trip taken with my Mom back in 1971. Yes, 40 years ago.

Would Mom be jealous of my venture into this elusive venue? Of course she would be. But as I'm 100% certain she'll be there in spirit, I say bring on the grandeur. Mom would like ti that way. (They'd better have daiquiris with real lime, or she'll cause a fuss...)

Happy 2011!!!

Daniel Tiger's clock from the Mister Rogers' Neighborhood ride at Idlewild Park. For no other reason than it makes me smile; Daniel Tiger makes me think of gentle humor, childhood excitement and the thought that every new day brings tremendous promise and possibility. I think every New Year's Day should be like that.

Airtime

Looking back on 2010, well, I've done that in a previous post, so I won't go over all the details again. Suffice it to say, it had more ups and downs than the Legend rollercoaster at Arnold's Park -- and it had the same amount of that exquisite property called "air time". You know what I mean: when you're lifted off your seat and hanging in the air for just a wisp of a second. Some folks like it; other's like yours truly just don't trust it, have no care for it. Or at least that's how I used to size it up.

Today, December 31, the cover closes on the tome. The bows are tied, buttons buttoned, and all is put safely into the box of memories and lessons learned. But the concept of airtime stays with me and will continue to do so, because it's one of the most powerful lessons I learned while Roadtripping this year. Wouldn't have thought it before my visit to that vintage Iowa park, but things change, wisdom grows. And old constricts sometimes need to be plowed away.

During airtime, you float. There isn't much else to do. It's a tickle-tummy sensation: a little scary, a little unnerving, but all in all rather a safe place. During airtime, you can't necessarily plan for the next hill, nor can you curse the last. You are bound by the laws of physics to simply "be".

2010 held many moments I fought with, railed against. Cursed and spat at. But other moments were cherished so tightly that I feared they'd be suffocated by my need to preserve and adulate them. So highly revered, beatified even. But airtime can't be fought, or preserved. It asks nothing, gives nothing back that can be saved and stored. What I've come to learn through all this is that those moments of airtime are where holiness lies. Where God basically holds you and lets you take a breath and just be. Where you both gasp in, ever so quickly, together.

May 2011 hold you in its gentle grasp, lightly. Then bounce you up when you least expect it and let you hover there, taking in all there is without judgement, bias or fear.

Reindeer Games.

Zoinks, the past week's been brimming with activity (including cookie-making, the all-important cookie-making), so many apologies for not posting an update in a while. It's been a wild hodge podge of actual v.o. work (Ta-Ra!!) and rehearsing/performing our old time radio show, and cleaning and clearing the house and running around like the proverbial headless poultry. Ah... time to sit down with a gingerbread latte and focus on the season at hand.

We're having Ben's dad and step-mom over for Christmas Eve, so I spent more time today finding and buying last-minute things, especially foodstuffs for the happy event. I found some great cheeses and fig spread, kalamata olives and salty/savory/sweet nuts. Not to mention the Prosecco. Gotta have the Prosecco. And egg nog and cookies and then you just spin the wheel and start wherever it leaves you, cuz anything I've just listed is good eats.

The above photo is from Santa's North Pole Workshop just outside Pike's Peak. Their carousel has no horses, just reindeer. As it should be. Here's one of them. Can you tell who it is??

A very Merry Christmas to all, and to all a lot of nummy goodies. You deserve it.