RETURN OF THE "RED-I"

We’re baaaack. And I must admit I still have jet lag. Of course, I started our vacation with jet lag, and that was days before I boarded the jet! Our family spent a week at maximum speed with minimum drag, and it all resulted in perpetual lag. But the Clot was able to do something that seemed like a dream just a few weeks ago.

Erin and Brodi always accuse me of excessive verbiage, but they don’t appreciate the fact that what they read is the edited version of what I actually write. However, in an attempt to achieve brevity and blog responsibly, I will give an up-date of our “California Dreamin’” trip in an initial installment followed by 2 sequels. So here goes.

Dennis has been tolerating his chemo treatments so well, that our flight to Disneyland was never in jeopardy. This was such a relief, but we were still concerned about his strength and stamina. We were determined that we would have a good time, but not compromise his health in any way. So we devised a “park-hopper” plan that consisted mainly of going on a ride, and then hopping over to the nearest bench to rest. This seemed reasonable for the first five minutes. Something had charged his batteries, and he not only maintained the pace, but set it. Now this was rather remarkable because there was an even dozen of us, six of whom were children. There was a collective energy source that could have fueled the world. I kept insisting that he rest at somewhat regular intervals…mainly so I could recover my equilibrium and avoid resorting to my secret reserve of emergency digitalis. We were at sea level, and I was sucking wind like I was about to summit Mount Everest.

We had three passes to Disneyland, and the first day there I have no doubt we set a new endurance record for riding the most rides in the shortest amount of time. Brodi negotiated our way through the park that would have made Lewis and Clark proud. She has a particular genius for fast passes, which allowed us to access any ride with such efficiency, that we rarely had to wait at all. (That, and the fact there was a certain deference that was accorded to a man wearing a protective surgical face mask. We were just glad Dennis wasn’t mistaken for a character out of the latest Disney movie.)

But I discovered an irrefutable fact of fantasy…you actually can have “Disneyland Saturation,” “giggle glut,” “merriment melt-down.” We rode on every conceivable contraption invented by the mind of man that whirled, twirled, twisted, tilted, contorted, shook, rattled, rolled and glided. But I did have to draw the line on, of all things, a children’s ride. Claiming strict observance of the Word of Wisdom in order to gain a religious deferment from riding on the whirling tea cups, I ran immediately to the nearest concession stand and ordered a “mouska-mammoth” diet coke in a futile effort to stem the rising tide of nausea. In a supreme irony so apropos to the condition of childhood, why is it that a kid can endure every mechanically perverted barf-inducing invention for nine uninterrupted hours, and then puke in the back seat of a car from motion sickness?

More to come!
Love,
The Clot