It'll swallow your entire head!

I'll admit it -- I'm not this huge fan of the state of Florida. Please don't send me nasty letters and packages of rotten citrus fruit; everyone's entitled to their tastes. I'm just way more a Western Side of the Country girl. Florida for me has Disney and the center and as far as I'm concerned, I can take a plane to Orlando, board the Giant Mouse Bus, and get whisked away to Epcot and that's all I really need to see of the state.

Well, I'm here to tell you right now: I've been converted. At least a little. For right now (I'm still not willing to admit an entire conversion. I need to be gentle with myself here.)

Silver Springs in Ocala, Florida is a wonderland of nature's best show-offs. Glittering crustal clear springs, towering trees bedecked with Spanish moss. And animals -- some very rare animals.

Pictured here is the Cuban crocodile, one of a large selection of 'dile and 'gator species who inhabit the park. Behind glass. Thick glass. HIGH glass.

After visiting each one, I would say, "I respect you. I wish you nothing but good. Please don't eat my head."

Well, I'm here typing, so it seemed to work.

"Sea Hunt" -- scuba for the manly man!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alm4qh3hUWQ

Oh heavens, I'm getting the vapors! Lloyd Bridges was SO MANLY in these old "Sea Hunt" episodes. Do yourself a favor: this is a 9-minute clip from Youtube -- at least watch the very beginning. It's got that "manly man doing manly things" vibe so very typical in the depiction of 50s TV heroes. Grrrrrrr..... GUSTO!

"Sea Hunt" was filmed in part at Silver Springs Park in Ocala, FL -- my next park to visit for the Cotton Candy Roadtrip!!

Wonder if I'll see any of these swarthy scuba types, spitting into their scuba masks, "thwacking" on their scuba hoods.... oooooh.....

ABBA World

I'm a big fan of the WGN Morning news, featuring my "Hey Pam! Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey" fellow South Sider Robin Baumgarten, the cute 'n acerbic Larry Potash, and "Polka Weather Guy" Paul Konrad (my quotes, not his. But they always play polkas under his forecasts, so...). Armed with a mug of hot tea, I perch on the couch and find out what's been going on in the world, and also am pretty much guaranteed to start out the day being well entertained. They're a barrel of hijinx.

But when Robin told me to stay tuned for news on ABBA World, which she SAID was an "ABBA theme park", I basically squeaked! ABBA theme park? Imagine the possibilities: "En Karusell" (pretty self-explanatory), "Take a Chance on Me" arcade ("Where 'the winner takes it all!'"), "Super Trooper" paratroopers, "Head Over Heels" rollercoaster, and, of course, the "Waterloo" log flume.

So imagine the sad trombone music that played in my living room when it turned out ABBA World, which just opened in London, is an exhibition of ABBA memorabilia and history, probably similar to the "Titanic" exhibition, but no one drowns. Fans get to tour through 25 rooms of glittery jumpsuits, take a quiz to test their knowledge of all things Björn, Benny, Agnetha and Anni-Frid, and even "sing along live with ABBA" with super souped-up Swedish video karaoke!

I still like my amusement park ride ideas. Maybe I need to track down their private island and have them build it there.

(Just don't want to see those puppets again. Night terrors...)

Putting it Together

Lots of things go into putting together your plans for a trip. The booking of flights, renting of cars, packing of clothes, buying of Earplanes. With Dad in the condition he's in, there's even more detailed planning. He's now officially a candidate for assisted living, although we have to get him completely assessed by his MD before he can be moved to the assisted living quarters at his retirement home.

Part of us feels very selfish about even going on the trip that's, oh, just around the corner. But life doesn't really come with a crystal ball and since I'm no Mystic Meg (although I've been told I look like her. Maybe that's the picture I should use as my Facebook profile, as this week is apparently "Doppleganger Week" where you're supposed to post a picture of someone people say you look like), I have no way to know if Dad will be stable while we're away, or if all systems will fail simultaneously.

So we pray, we hope, and we bring in the artillery.

Friends and relatives who live nearby are being encouraged to just drop by his place and say "hi". So much of his condition can't be alleviated, but what can be lessened is any boredom he might feel; restlessness has never been his buddy.

Folks will stop by and update us on his mood, how he's "seeming". And besides our posse, we also have the incredible staff at the Arms who keep him comfortable, safe, and secure. Sure, you could say they're being paid to do so and they are, but their heart is undeniably in it. You can tell in the way they communicate with him, with us.

"No, you two go on and enjoy your vacation. Dan is in good hands. I'll watch him myself! Just try keeping me away from him!" said one of Dad's healthcare workers, a sassy lady who goes from sweet to jalapeno in a nanosecond.

So our visit to Silver Springs is days away. And then onto the Disney Cruise and ports sun-worhippy, pineapple-scented, and marine blue.

We both need it. And Dad will be fine. We must take this opportunity, embrace it, run with it -- because we don't have the ability to do our scrying, to find out what Dad's health will be like in even a month or so from now.

Deep breath. A smile. Smiling is good for you, clears out the dustbunnies in your soul.

Okay. Now the only worry I have is how very outdated my swimsuit is. And the fact that in just a few short days, I'll be SEEN in a swimsuit, period.

Powder sugar...

It's powder sugaring outside my window. Quite lovely. There's something about snow at dusk that's particularly magical; it gets this robin's egg blue cast, an opalescent glow. It's not sticking to the street yet, just the grass and slightly on the trees.

I often refer to the period of the year I'm born in as the "armpit of the calendar". Although we Aquarians are a magical lot, the time of year in which we're born often seems far from it: frigid, barren, and bunny-free.

But on late afternoons like this, with the delicate falling flakes and the wind picking up just a tad, it makes me glad to have a birthday season with this as a backdrop.

Sunday on the Blog with Photos!

I used to collect these adorable little ceramic figurines back when I was a sprout. Waldameer Park is one of the only places I've found with an extensive collection Hagen-Renaker. As our beaglette Ivy is also reminiscent of the venerable Jack Russell terrier, I scooped one up.

Enjoy the array.

As weak as a newborn baby lamb...

I highly recommend, even if people tell you otherwise, to not get stomach flu or food poisoning. It makes for a messy, slow-moving, uncomfortable, achy day, not to mention you can't/shouldn't/won't eat anything more savory than a saltine.

But this got me to thinking, as many of my thoughts these days swing back to amusement park-related memories: have you ever gotten really, stinking, blindingly sick on a ride? This delightful occurrence happened to me back in 1978 at the Old Chicago indoor amusement park (which my Mom hated: "It's like a factory, not an amusement park! Clang, clang, clang. Bah.). I invited my girlfriends Nancy and Linda along with Gregg, who I was quite sweet on, over to this monolithic palace, the day showed such promise. Until, only about a third of the way through, I met up with the English Rotor and it basically planted me in the ground for the rest of the day. I vaguely remember Gregg, who I was quite sweet on, finding it funny at first, but then realizing my pallor was for real -- and refrained from the caustic humor for the rest of the day, speaking in quiet tones, which really wasn't his style. I also recall getting a lollipop to suck on, to alleviate the queasiness.