Friday, October 16, 2009
Maybe it's time to leave....
My hubby got a frantic phone call from his mother the other night. She lives in California with his sister and her family and has been there for about 3 years now...a rather long visit in my opinion. So, my mother-in-law (MIL) calls very upset to report that my sister's husband is secretly videotaping her while she is in her bedroom! Now, if you knew my brother-in-law...probably one of the nicest, most benign people you would ever meet, you would know that this is preposterous. After listening to his mother go on and on about the intolerable videotaping sessions, he called his sister to get the real story. Apparently, my brother-in-law had disassembled an old computer and had placed some of the pieces in his MIL's room for storage. One of these computer pieces was an old webcam that no longer worked. It was placed on a shelf in her room. Well, she recognized it, knew what it was and decided that there was a conspiracy to secretly videotape her and send it out over the internet! She called her sisters in San Francisco and told them the same thing. The awful part? Stu's aunt called him and demanded that he speak to Luis (sis's hubby) to remove that awful camera......(shaking my head)....I truly think it is time for my MIL to head home...3 years is an awful long time to live with your daughter.....
Stroller gets overridden by train - baby survives
The only good thing about this video is the fact that the baby is FINE....just a bump on the head - but how shocking, huh?
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Remembering Dad....
As I mentioned briefly, my father, Bill, died rather unexpectedly this summer, on 6/13/09. I say unexpectedly, but as you may recall, I had seen him 3 months before in March and knew at that time that he was not long for this world. He still was not even admitting to anybody that he was not well, even thought just looking at him it was patently obvious that he was on his last legs. My sister reminded me that during our visit in March, I looked at her after seeing our dad and saying flatly, "he won’t be alive in six months". How heartbreaking it is that my prediction came true with 3 months to spare….
It’s really hard to believe that my dad is gone. He was always so vital to me, never sick really, never weak. Even though his health in the last few years had been plagued by many "middle-age" diseases like diabetes and high cholesterol and the like, he still seemed strong and healthy for the most part. The first inkling I had that he was ill was for about the past year, whenever I talked with him on the phone, he would cough. Around the fall of 2008 the cough was so bad that it was impossible to talk with him on the phone because he was constantly coughing. I’m ashamed to admit that I put off calling him sometimes because it killed me to hear him coughing so. He protested that he had been to the doctor for the cough, but I was not convinced. Nobody can cough like that for 6 months and still have nothing wrong with him. It wasn’t until it was too late to do anything about it that we found out a chronic cough often accompanies liver and kidney disease.
It must be said that my dad was an alcoholic, but a very high functioning alcoholic. For as long as I can remember, alcohol was a part of his life, of my life, but not in a bad way by any means. One of my first memories as a kid was me and my sister playing in a bar as my parents and their friends sat around and had drinks. There was nothing sinister about this; it was just the way things were. Just as it was that our family vacations many times were disguised as golf vacations for my parents. They just found really interesting places to go play golf and turned these into our vacations. I just figured this out relatively recently! So, my sister and I grew up with alcohol being a very constant presence but also a comforting presence because as my parents drank they always were in the company of friends and their friends usually always had kids of their own and therefore, my sister and I were content to play with our friends as our parents drank. I hardly ever remember seeing my parents drunk, maybe once or twice in my entire childhood and even then I don’t recall anything bad happening…they were happy when they drank, which trickled down to us. So alcohol, while pretty much was always present in my dad’s life, never seemed to be a problem for him or those around him. Towards the last few years or so apparently the effects of 40 years of alcohol were slowing making their impact known, in the form of liver disease. Even when he was faced with this knowledge, it still took my dad a long time to quit drinking completely, an unfortunate truth that severely cut his life expectancy down from perhaps a few more years to mere months. Now my dad was not a big doctor-lover and it really took a lot for him to even go to the doctor. In fact, he never admitted to me that he was ill, even when I told him I was concerned over his appearance in March. He just didn’t want to upset us or burden us with his health issues I guess. This in and of itself is a big deal because my sister and I both work in the health field and I am certain that had he confided in us even a year ago, his life would have been prolonged because we would have recognized that his present doctor was not treating him appropriately and that things were much worse than what he was being told.
The last two weeks of my dad's life were rather miserable and I regret that he was unable to trust his daughters, if that is what it was, to know the truth. About two weeks before he died, my dad was functioning fairly well. He was going to work as usual, keeping to his usual routine. However, apparently the day before he went into the hospital he was having a bad time of it at work. His coworkers later told us that he had eaten lunch in his car, as usual, but that he had taken an extraordinary amount of time to do so. This was not like him and that concerned them. They could tell he was not breathing well and was weak. My sister was summoned to my dad’s apartment and she was absolutely shocked to find him in such a weakened and obviously ill condition. She was frightened and horrified to find him like that and insisted that he go to the hospital immediately. It is a great testament to just how bad dad felt that he agreed to go to the hospital. He was admitted and it was immediately clear that he was in bad shape. His liver and kidneys were failing and he was at the end-stage of both diseases. He was so bad that kidney or liver transplants were out of the question. He had so much fluid in his belly that it was causing him to have trouble breathing and causing his heart to work very hard. They removed over 10 liters of fluid from his belly. Now just stop and think about this for a minute. Think of five 2 liter bottles of Pepsi standing in a row and that is how much fluid they removed from my dad’s belly. I later found out that this is an extraordinary amount of fluid to remove at one time and in fact, I believe that the shock of this much fluid being removed at once caused his body to go into shock and led to his death, much sooner than it needed to, but that is another story. He did feel better after the fluid was removed but the indignities of being in the hospital and having everyone finally know the truth of what he did to himself over the years, I think caused my dad to lose his faith. My sister called me to tell me about him being in the hospital and while it was a shock, it was not unexpected, as she had been keeping me updated on his deteriorating health. I was glad he was finally somewhere that he could receive some help. Three days later, it was determined that my dad’s condition was grave and he was moved to the hospice part of the hospital. My sister generously offered me a plane ticket to fly down and be with him and I was scheduled to arrive 4 days later. Each day I would call my dad and speak with him and he seemed to be in better spirits after the move to hospice; he had a private room which was a great thing for him. He was happily anticipating my arrival and on Tuesday evening, he seemed like my old dad. On Wednesday afternoon my sister called frantically and told me that I had better try to get an earlier flight, that dad was going downhill fast. I was stupefied as, having just spoken with him the night before and finding him lucid and feeling good, the sudden turn was unbelievable. Unfortunately, an earlier flight was not to be had and I had to wait until my original flight on Thursday. I was horrified that I would not reach him before he died. However, I did arrive just after lunch on Thursday and my sister and I raced to the hospital. I walked into his room and was momentarily confused, thinking for a split second that we were in the wrong room. I could not believe the person lying in that bed was my father. Surely this shockingly thin man was not my dad. He was in and out of consciousness by that point and I loudly announced to him that I was here. He opened his eyes wide, recognizing me I’m sure, but then slipped back to sleep. That was really the only response I would see out of him at all. He was basically comatose until his death 2 days later. This was not an easy death though; and it was not an easy death to watch. There was moaning and thrashing and near the end, he began having strange seizures where he would fling his arms up as if he were trying to catch a ball being thrown to him. His arms would stay up and he would shake. His eyes would roll up into his head and it was just ghastly to watch this and be helpless to stop it. More medication was given but it really didn’t help. He was restless even in his coma. On Saturday, we were all gathered in his room and were reminiscing about him and the fun we used to have with him. We knew the end was near as his eyes opened and would not close anymore. This was eerie and disturbing for us, to see him lying there with his eyes open, so we covered his eyes with a wet washcloth, which certainly made us feel better. We decided to grab a quick bite to eat in the cafeteria. As we were coming back up in the elevator, we heard a sudden thunderstorm boom its approach. We were heading down to dad’s room when the nurse stopped us in the hall and we knew instantly that dad was gone. He had waited for us to leave as he did not want to die in front of us. The hospice nurses assured us this was a very common way for people to die. The thunderstorm continued to make its presence known and it was comforting in a way because all his life, dad loved thunderstorms. This was a fitting way for him to say goodbye to us. My dad was only 66 years old when he died on Saturday June 13, 2009. He leaves behind my sister and I and our 4 children….gone too soon.
My biggest regret is that our children won’t be able to know him the way we knew him. I used to think my dad was the smartest guy in the world. He seemed to know everything about everything. My dad was not perfect however, as evidenced by his decision to leave his wife and children and make a new life for himself on the other side of the country. This was a selfish decision and I still have yet to come to terms with it, even nearly 30 years later. Now that I am a parent it staggers me that he was able to walk away from his family. I loved him despite this, much to my mother’s chagrin, I think. Those wounds will probably never heal, for her or for my sister and I, but we have learned to deal with them in our own ways. In some ways I think I have swept a lot of my initial anger at him under the proverbial rug and now that he is gone, that may be just where it will stay. I choose to remember my dad as someone I have always looked up to and admired and someone I loved unconditionally, the way all parents and children should love each other. I will miss him with all my heart and wish I could hear his laughter just one more time. I love you dad.
It’s really hard to believe that my dad is gone. He was always so vital to me, never sick really, never weak. Even though his health in the last few years had been plagued by many "middle-age" diseases like diabetes and high cholesterol and the like, he still seemed strong and healthy for the most part. The first inkling I had that he was ill was for about the past year, whenever I talked with him on the phone, he would cough. Around the fall of 2008 the cough was so bad that it was impossible to talk with him on the phone because he was constantly coughing. I’m ashamed to admit that I put off calling him sometimes because it killed me to hear him coughing so. He protested that he had been to the doctor for the cough, but I was not convinced. Nobody can cough like that for 6 months and still have nothing wrong with him. It wasn’t until it was too late to do anything about it that we found out a chronic cough often accompanies liver and kidney disease.
It must be said that my dad was an alcoholic, but a very high functioning alcoholic. For as long as I can remember, alcohol was a part of his life, of my life, but not in a bad way by any means. One of my first memories as a kid was me and my sister playing in a bar as my parents and their friends sat around and had drinks. There was nothing sinister about this; it was just the way things were. Just as it was that our family vacations many times were disguised as golf vacations for my parents. They just found really interesting places to go play golf and turned these into our vacations. I just figured this out relatively recently! So, my sister and I grew up with alcohol being a very constant presence but also a comforting presence because as my parents drank they always were in the company of friends and their friends usually always had kids of their own and therefore, my sister and I were content to play with our friends as our parents drank. I hardly ever remember seeing my parents drunk, maybe once or twice in my entire childhood and even then I don’t recall anything bad happening…they were happy when they drank, which trickled down to us. So alcohol, while pretty much was always present in my dad’s life, never seemed to be a problem for him or those around him. Towards the last few years or so apparently the effects of 40 years of alcohol were slowing making their impact known, in the form of liver disease. Even when he was faced with this knowledge, it still took my dad a long time to quit drinking completely, an unfortunate truth that severely cut his life expectancy down from perhaps a few more years to mere months. Now my dad was not a big doctor-lover and it really took a lot for him to even go to the doctor. In fact, he never admitted to me that he was ill, even when I told him I was concerned over his appearance in March. He just didn’t want to upset us or burden us with his health issues I guess. This in and of itself is a big deal because my sister and I both work in the health field and I am certain that had he confided in us even a year ago, his life would have been prolonged because we would have recognized that his present doctor was not treating him appropriately and that things were much worse than what he was being told.
The last two weeks of my dad's life were rather miserable and I regret that he was unable to trust his daughters, if that is what it was, to know the truth. About two weeks before he died, my dad was functioning fairly well. He was going to work as usual, keeping to his usual routine. However, apparently the day before he went into the hospital he was having a bad time of it at work. His coworkers later told us that he had eaten lunch in his car, as usual, but that he had taken an extraordinary amount of time to do so. This was not like him and that concerned them. They could tell he was not breathing well and was weak. My sister was summoned to my dad’s apartment and she was absolutely shocked to find him in such a weakened and obviously ill condition. She was frightened and horrified to find him like that and insisted that he go to the hospital immediately. It is a great testament to just how bad dad felt that he agreed to go to the hospital. He was admitted and it was immediately clear that he was in bad shape. His liver and kidneys were failing and he was at the end-stage of both diseases. He was so bad that kidney or liver transplants were out of the question. He had so much fluid in his belly that it was causing him to have trouble breathing and causing his heart to work very hard. They removed over 10 liters of fluid from his belly. Now just stop and think about this for a minute. Think of five 2 liter bottles of Pepsi standing in a row and that is how much fluid they removed from my dad’s belly. I later found out that this is an extraordinary amount of fluid to remove at one time and in fact, I believe that the shock of this much fluid being removed at once caused his body to go into shock and led to his death, much sooner than it needed to, but that is another story. He did feel better after the fluid was removed but the indignities of being in the hospital and having everyone finally know the truth of what he did to himself over the years, I think caused my dad to lose his faith. My sister called me to tell me about him being in the hospital and while it was a shock, it was not unexpected, as she had been keeping me updated on his deteriorating health. I was glad he was finally somewhere that he could receive some help. Three days later, it was determined that my dad’s condition was grave and he was moved to the hospice part of the hospital. My sister generously offered me a plane ticket to fly down and be with him and I was scheduled to arrive 4 days later. Each day I would call my dad and speak with him and he seemed to be in better spirits after the move to hospice; he had a private room which was a great thing for him. He was happily anticipating my arrival and on Tuesday evening, he seemed like my old dad. On Wednesday afternoon my sister called frantically and told me that I had better try to get an earlier flight, that dad was going downhill fast. I was stupefied as, having just spoken with him the night before and finding him lucid and feeling good, the sudden turn was unbelievable. Unfortunately, an earlier flight was not to be had and I had to wait until my original flight on Thursday. I was horrified that I would not reach him before he died. However, I did arrive just after lunch on Thursday and my sister and I raced to the hospital. I walked into his room and was momentarily confused, thinking for a split second that we were in the wrong room. I could not believe the person lying in that bed was my father. Surely this shockingly thin man was not my dad. He was in and out of consciousness by that point and I loudly announced to him that I was here. He opened his eyes wide, recognizing me I’m sure, but then slipped back to sleep. That was really the only response I would see out of him at all. He was basically comatose until his death 2 days later. This was not an easy death though; and it was not an easy death to watch. There was moaning and thrashing and near the end, he began having strange seizures where he would fling his arms up as if he were trying to catch a ball being thrown to him. His arms would stay up and he would shake. His eyes would roll up into his head and it was just ghastly to watch this and be helpless to stop it. More medication was given but it really didn’t help. He was restless even in his coma. On Saturday, we were all gathered in his room and were reminiscing about him and the fun we used to have with him. We knew the end was near as his eyes opened and would not close anymore. This was eerie and disturbing for us, to see him lying there with his eyes open, so we covered his eyes with a wet washcloth, which certainly made us feel better. We decided to grab a quick bite to eat in the cafeteria. As we were coming back up in the elevator, we heard a sudden thunderstorm boom its approach. We were heading down to dad’s room when the nurse stopped us in the hall and we knew instantly that dad was gone. He had waited for us to leave as he did not want to die in front of us. The hospice nurses assured us this was a very common way for people to die. The thunderstorm continued to make its presence known and it was comforting in a way because all his life, dad loved thunderstorms. This was a fitting way for him to say goodbye to us. My dad was only 66 years old when he died on Saturday June 13, 2009. He leaves behind my sister and I and our 4 children….gone too soon.
My biggest regret is that our children won’t be able to know him the way we knew him. I used to think my dad was the smartest guy in the world. He seemed to know everything about everything. My dad was not perfect however, as evidenced by his decision to leave his wife and children and make a new life for himself on the other side of the country. This was a selfish decision and I still have yet to come to terms with it, even nearly 30 years later. Now that I am a parent it staggers me that he was able to walk away from his family. I loved him despite this, much to my mother’s chagrin, I think. Those wounds will probably never heal, for her or for my sister and I, but we have learned to deal with them in our own ways. In some ways I think I have swept a lot of my initial anger at him under the proverbial rug and now that he is gone, that may be just where it will stay. I choose to remember my dad as someone I have always looked up to and admired and someone I loved unconditionally, the way all parents and children should love each other. I will miss him with all my heart and wish I could hear his laughter just one more time. I love you dad.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Oh my....so long.....
Just wanted to check in and say I am still here, still alive, although it has been a hell of a couple of months - lost my grandmother, lost my dad, Lulabell had more surgery...and may need even more....lost our power for a day and i thought I would die - school is back and kids are doing well...almost halloween and my daughter yearns to be a vampire - literally. She has been reading the True Blood series and the Marked series and of course, loves Twilight....My son is now a senior and we will have to get senior pics done soon - he is looking for a job at the moment, wish him luck! Stu and I still plugging away at our jobs - no news there - same old crap....still only 1 car between us and that sucks big time - my grandmother completely blew my sister and I off in her will and that hurts so bad - my dad died unexpectedly and that hurts the worst. I can't believe i don't have a dad anymore - we got to go to florida (my third time this year!) for his memorial service, which was nice. What are we doing in icky Pennsylvania? the kids are dying to live in florida....i don't know. So, that's about it for now - i will be back soon for more updates - need to get back into this again....
Monday, April 13, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Edie has gone home....
My grandma Edie passed away quietly at the nursing home this morning. I was blessed enough to have been able to see her just two days ago, on Thursday. We had been told by the staff that she wasn't doing well and so Stu, the kids and I headed west to Canton for a visit. I thank God that He allowed us one last visit with her and we gathered around her, listened to her stories one more time and hugged and kissed her goodbye, not realizing it was for the very last time. Edie is home at last, which is what she wanted, to be in heaven with her beloved family - her mother, father and sister, all of whom left her too soon. For my sister and I and our families, we will miss her very much but feel she is where she needs to be now. I will be back soon with more thoughts on my grandmother's passing.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Day 5 - Goodbye Florida (sniff)
Our final day in Florida began fairly early with laundry and breakfast. I made everyone eggs and bacon and managed to completely burn the bacon in the microwave. It was a plate of blackened, smelly strips of carcinogen and I grabbed the plate (burning my thumb badly in the process) and tossed it out the back door onto the patio lest the smell overcome us inside. My mom's landlord happened to stop by unexpectedly to get something from the house and I suddenly remembered the plate of burnt bacon out on the patio. I ran to the back door and scooped up the mess, tossing it into the trash can, hoping that she hadn't seen me. My mom's neighbor stopped over for a visit with her dog and to ask my mother for the thousandth time to consider staying forever....she is seriously taken with my mom and thinks she would make a great addition to the neighborhood on a permanent basis. My mom was having some computer issues, specifically, internet access issues and the neighbor was the cause of it all. She did have wi-fi at her trailer but was not using it appropriately so mom asked if I would go check it out for her. The neighbor was willing to allow mom access to the wi-fi and so I went over to her place and in about 2 minutes figured out the problem (yay me!) and got her wi-fi up and running. Back at mom's place, she was thrilled to note that she now had internet access! (I learned that a few days after we left, the neighbor re-secured her wi-fi for some reason and mom was left in the dark again). So, finishing up the laundry, Lulabell and I packed for home. It was a real challenge as we had acquired some things to take home but we got it done and soon were headed to the airport. Lulabell had been complaining of an upset stomach, but this in and of itself is not abnormal for her. She often complains of a stomach ache, probably due to some GERD she has had her whole life. I downplayed it and told her to keep her mind off of it. Soon we were waving goodbye to grammy who had dropped us off and we went into the airport to make our way to our gate. Lulabell's bag was pulled out and we had to go to a table to have it searched. "Is this your bag?" the TSA guard asked my daughter, who looked to me for support. "I packed the bag" I told the guard and wondered what in the heck could be in there that would draw their attention. After rooting around in her bag the guard finally pulls out a bottle of suntan lotion that I had forgotten I packed in there. "Did you forget that you can't pack liquids over 3 ounces?". Sheepishly, I admitted that I had and cursed myself as my $10 bottle of suntan lotion was now garbage. Oh well, we repacked Lulabell and headed to our gate. Lulabell was still not feeling well and I had her sit at the gate while I went to procure some food for us to eat on the plane. I found a Burger King and got sandwiches and drinks and headed back to the gate. I realized then that we were sitting at the wrong gate and hurriedly moved her and our stuff to the correct gate. A man noticed what I was doing and figured out he was at the wrong gate too! We sat and ate our food and waited to board the plane. Finally, we got up to get in line when Lulabell suddenly announced she was going to be sick. I hurriedly pointed her to the ladies room and she made a beeline for it where she was unceremoniously violently ill. My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do, do I abandon our place in line to help my daughter? I stayed where I was and she returned looking pale and sweaty. She felt it was the hamburger she ate and said she felt a little better now. We boarded and found our seats with her at the window, me in the middle and a nice lady on the aisle. The plane soon took off and we settled in. They served a light snack and Lulabell ate a little of it but very soon began to look a little green around the gills and headed to the restroom where her little snack made a return appearance. Meanwhile, I had asked our seatmate if she wouldn't mind switching so that my sick daughter had quicker access to the restroom. She readily agreed. However, this turned out not to be a good idea because I think she was just as sick as Lulabell and we were pretty much up out of our seats constantly so she could use the restroom. Lulabell returned and we settled in again but before long she announced once again she was ill. I glanced aft to see if the restroom was available but there was a line and so I grabbed the air sickness bag and shoved it at her, where she proceeded to fill it to the brim. I had to call the flight attendant to help me with napkins and they provided us with several more bags. Finally the restroom cleared and I deposited the bag and its contents in the garbage. Finally, we landed in Cleveland and Lulabell made straight for the restroom once more. I knew she was not going to be able to make it to the next gate so I flagged down a cart and driver and we jumped on and zoomed at about 70 mph to the escalator. We got to the top of the escalator where another cart was waiting and we zoomed to our final destination. Thank God for those carts because it was like a mile to the next gate and she would NEVER have made it. We arrived at our gate about an hour before our scheduled departure and relaxed. Our flight was on time, according to the little sign over my head (scheduled to leave at 5:00PM). At one point Lulabell looks at the sign and asks "mom, why does our flight say 8:00 PM now?" I laughed at her and chided her for trying to trick me....and glanced up at the sign where it did indeed say 8:00 PM. I did the classic double take and even took off my glasses to clean them so I could be sure I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing. Sure enough, the gate attendant finally gets on the overhead to announce that our flight was now postponed until 8:00 PM (3 HOURS LATER!) because there was no flight crew available and that they were now flying them in from Harrisburg....WTF???? Well, that's just great. Of course, out of all the passengers receiving this news, some took it well, and others took it not so well. Some man, who looked like he would be more comfortable sleeping under an overpass than taking an airplane walked up to the gate and began to berate the poor lady, claiming that he had a "very important meeting" that he "could not miss!" (yeah right). Well, there was really nothing to be gained from yelling, as I could see it. We did have the diversion of watching a family with 3 badly behaved boys under the age of 6 slowly begin to unravel and the astonishing moment of when the oldest boy stood his ground in front of his grandmother, hands on his hips and SCREAMED horrible things at her. Mother was talking to the gate attendant at the time but when she heard him screaming at the grandmother she whipped around, grabbed his arm and MARCHED him into the ladies room and I seriously hope she put the fear of God into him for his little scene. Soon the attendant announced that Continental felt so bad about the delay that they were offering food vouchers so we could eat dinner, on them! Yippee! Lulabell was feeling better by now and decided she wanted to try to eat. I tried to call Stu and let him know what was happening but for some reason, my phone decided to go all wonky. There was a picture I had never seen before on my wallpaper and I couldn't access my contacts - seriously strange. It was like I had a stranger's phone or something. Lulabell's phone was dead as she had forgotten to plug it in the night before. I finally reached him and asked if he thought he could make it to Cleveland as we had a delay. I truly did not think this was going to happen as it had been so long since I myself had driven to Cleveland airport that I couldn't even begin to tell him how to get here. I then went to the attendant and asked if perhaps they would provide a rental car voucher and I could just drive home (about a 90 minute drive) instead of waiting 3 hours to fly to Pittsburgh and then having an hour drive from there. Unfortunately, while this sounded like a stellar idea to me, alas, the airline did not think much of it and I was denied. Oh well, we waited it out and finally got on the new plane at about 9:30 or so. The flight only takes about 30 minutes and the flight attendant did not even get out of her seat. Finally, we landed and Stu and Peaches showed up right on time to pick us up. Hugs all around, with Peaches begging to see what I had brought him. I made him wait though and we headed home, arriving at close to 11:00 PM - it was a good thing I decided to take that day off too, huh? Lulabell was still feeling a bit queasy and so I decided she could stay home from school the next day to recuperate. So, our trip, after such a long time in planning and waiting for it to happen, was over. It was such an awesome trip and the only thing I regretted was that Stu and Peaches couldn't share it with us. However, after regaling Stu about the wonders of Disney, he is now determined that we will be making a trip soon to go as a family, perhaps next summer. That sounds great to me!
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