This year, for our
daughter’s twelfth birthday, we planned ahead instead of waiting until the last minute
and trying to find discount theater tickets.
Not that that method hasn’t ended up working out astonishingly well for us in the past.
The combination of her
love of the source material and her appearing in the Junior version last spring
led us to choose Aladdin for our destination on the great white way.
I originally intended to
keep going after the original cast movies, to review their guest appearances
and the hand off to the reboot films.
I also intended this
whole Short Treks excursion to be well under a dozen posts and nowhere near sixty-seven-thousand
words and taking an close to an entire year on the blog. Boy, if I had half a brain I would have started later and used it for the 50th Anniversary year, which is only three months away now.
However, we’ve pretty well established I’ve got issues when it comes to letting
my fandom run away with my writing plans, or planning in general.
Way back when my wife
started talking about us taking dance classes…
Yes, I know, me not
being the instigator of the idea must come as quite a shock…
Way back when my wife
started talking about us taking dance classes, both tap and ballroom were discussed. She’s always been a fan of tap, and since
it’s what I pretend to do when I drop my juggling clubs anyway, a part of me
has always felt I should know how.
Last spring everything
checked out at the cardiologist. He told
me to track my blood pressure better for a while since it was up, but wasn’t
overly concerned because all my other vitals were good. I told him I couldn’t
get my weight down as low as I had before, but wasn’t overly concerned because,
as Dad said, “Aging sucks but it beats the alternative.” Mostly, we were having
our usual conversations about how advancing technology is changing the face of
I think he enjoys having
a patient that actually listens to his directions as much as I enjoy having a
doctor that isn’t rushing to get out of the examination room as fast as
All the “recurring dream
concepts” from my childhood (gliding, twisty tree transport, giant bathrooms)
still hold true.
This is why, when I exited
the ENORMOUS (yet abandoned in February) rest room along the Atlantic City boardwalk
I was twitchy and confused for the rest of the day, as I half expected potato
aliens to steal my family.