FaLaLa, Here We Come!

Every four years or so, we load into our cars for another epic journey.

Destination -> Florida. Or, as we often call it, FaLaLa, a carry-over from when Chaos was two and couldn't quite manage the pronunciation.

Specifically, we're Orlando-bound.

For us, four years is a good interval between Florida trips. It keeps the children from getting bored with the experience and allows us to explore other vacation spots. And it pretty much ensures that, each time we go to Orlando, there's something new to explore.

When people hear we're driving, they think I'm insane. And I probably am, but not because I drive to Florida with Chaos and Turmoil. For us, car trips are great family time. We play American Idol. Chaos and Turmoil always let me go to Hollywood. They'll bicker some and maybe jab each other with elbows but I'll turn up the Easy Listening radio station real loud and they'll act right just to get me to turn it off.

My son and his girlfriend will be traveling in his pickup but, unlike in the old days, I don't have to be paranoid we'll become horribly, irrevocably separated because now we can call each other.

The trip is just under 800 miles, about 12 hours of driving time.

We usually stop at South of the Border because... well, how can you not stop there when you're making that drive? I still remember those signs from when I was a little girl, Pedro counting down the miles. Sometimes we detour to Myrtle Beach. We might spend a little time on U.S. Routes 1 and 301 but, for the most part, we'll be flying on I-95. At some point, we'll stop for oranges. None of us really like them but it's Florida. Got to have oranges.

This time, we'll do Magic Kingdom, Sea World, and Universal and Islands of Adventure. We're skipping the water parks this time around because Chaos and Turmoil read on the internet that people go to the bathroom in pool- and water-park water. I don't know how long the ick factor will last but, for now, I'm going to enjoy a vacation without a day spent in sweltering, blistering heat, at a place where there is precisely nothing for me to do but get sunburnt and risk heat stroke while lugging around their clothes, shoes, towels, and whatever they've convinced me to buy them that day.
Turmoil has a dream. She doesn't want to know when we're going to Florida, this time. She wants to be surprised with the news once we're in the car.
Ummmm... yeahhhhhh.

I'm remembering four years ago. That was The Year of the Pods. I began packing about three weeks ahead of time, putting everything into mesh bags. I hung the bags from ceiling hooks in the dining room. What the hell, the plants on those hooks had died anyway. This kept everything accessible, just in case we needed to use something, but kept all those packed items firmly in the To-Go realm. Every day, the pod colony grew, and it looked kind of like something out of a horror movie when the lights were out. I loved that whole set-up. I felt so organized... so... so... Mom-like. I was really looking forward to The Return of the Pods.

But no. How can I give Turmoil her much-wanted surprise? I mean, she'd know something was up when the pods disappeared.

And I do want to give her that surprise.

It's silly, yes. But she's 10. She knows all about Santa and the Easter Bunny. There's not much magic left in her world. And I want to make magic for her.

So now I'm hiding the mesh bags all over the house. I probably should write down the locations. Otherwise it's going to be like that year an Easter egg went missing. It did turn up, a few months later. With my luck, the pod that goes missing will be the one containing the only swimsuit in the universe that camouflages my unsightly curves. At least the ones in the front. I'm afraid to look at the back and so I just tell myself it's as not-bad as the front. Now that I think about it, maybe I better pack that in my purse.

Anyway, things are getting really hectic as The Big Day draws near.

I'd hoped to get another book out this summer but I'm not sure it's going to happen. My werewolves aren't acting right and I just don't have enough time right now to beat them into submission.

Who am I kidding? My characters never act right. They're going to make me rewrite that whole damned book. I know they are. And just for that, I'm not going to let them go to FaLaLa.