Skip to main content

EPCOT

So...yesterday, we spent a week at EPCOT. It's possible we arrived too early for the things we wanted to do, and then we had to stick around for a dinner reservation in France. You miss your dinner reservation, and you're left out in the cold.

We did the usual stuff in the future world area, like riding through the giant ball. I remember that as being a dull ride, but it was actually interesting. The ride got stuck for a few minutes, but this time instead of being trapped in a haunted cemetery, we were stranded in the renaissance, with da Vinci or somebody sculpting on one side and Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel on the other. It was serene and beautiful, and a choir was chanting "Hallelujah." Once the ride got going again, though, we turned the corner into a new age and were confronted by the harsh, dirty and ugly world of the industrial revolution. I wanted to go back to the chanting and the painting and the sculpting.

Finally, we got to rest our aching bones with dinner in Paris. Literally, by 8:00 p.m., I felt like my spine was sinking into the rest of my skeletal structure. Here is Eustacia at dinner. She had her face painted in Morocco. We forgot the cord for her camera, so I can't show you the image she captured here until next week.

Comments

Sassy Sundry said…
I'm glad you're having fun, Robyn. Cute face paint.
dive said…
Yup, Eustacia's face-paint is so cool … not that she needs painting up to make her look beautiful.
I can't wait to see her photo of you. Did you have face paint, too, Robyn?

Lots more photos and fun stuff, please! It's not often we get a vicarious trip to Disney and I want to enjoy it.
he he... I love your new Mickey hat at the top Robyn! Am I the first to notice? Am I? Am I?.........:)
Scout said…
Nope, sorry Lynn. You're not the first to notice, but thanks for noticing anyway.
Anonymous said…
I know that "sinking" feeling! It was during our trip to Washington, D.C. back in '06...and all the walking and walking and walking and...that I first realized that my back was a mess! Ugh!

Popular posts from this blog

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

An Offending Pile

So, I'm standing in my living room letting my mind wander for a minute or two as I stare out the window and watch the day go by, and I see my neighbors walking their dogs down the street. They are nice neighbors who are always friendly and responsible with their property. That is to say they aren't like the other neighbors who heap rubbish behind their house like Ma and Pa Kettle and let their dogs bark for thirty minutes at a time . Anyway, I see the nice people walking their dogs, a big golden retriever who is as sweet as can be and as dumb as a post—he once ate a sock and nearly died before it was surgically removed—and a new golden retriever puppy. Then I see Neighbor Wife suddenly run down the street with the big dog. Then I see Neighbor Husband stopped in front of my house with the puppy on its leash. And then I see the puppy taking a huge dump in my grass. Let me tell you, that is not done in this town unless the dog owner has a plastic bag handy and is ready to pick up ...

Am I Stupid, or What?

In two weeks, I will climb up into a charter bus, take my assigned seat, and ride 22 hours straight to Orlando, Florida. I will be a chaperon with the high school marching band, which will perform at Disney's Magic Kingdom--me and 180 people on four big buses for seven days. We will travel together, eat together, play together, fall down exhausted together--and after 22 hours, I suspect stink to high heaven together. Because of the crazy schedule, we will leave Ohio at 6 pm, travel all night and most of the next day, and spend several hours at MGM Studios before ending up at the hotel sometime after 7 pm. After I check in with the eight girls I am to supervise, I intend to shower and shower and shower. I intend to wear clean clothes and socks and brush my teeth until my toothbrush wears out. Of all the things I could be concerned about on this trip, being dirty seems to weigh heaviest on my mind. One of my eight charges could run off and do bad things with her boyfriend, but I'...