Day # 4 was another play-it-by-ear day. Since we hadn’t been over to Disneyland (the Magic Kingdom part) yet, that was what we aimed for.

I let #1 Son sleep in again, while I drank coffee, read the paper, and finished the Faye Kellerman novel I’d picked up a few days before. And #1 Son slept, and slept, and slept. I finally woke him up and said, let’s go!

It’s something of a tradition in our family that we ride Pirates Of The Caribbean just before lunch, and then eat at The Blue Bayou. We barely made it for the last seating for lunch. But we did make it, so the tradition holds.

We rode Pirates, The Haunted House, The Jungle Cruise, Indiana Jones, Star Tours, and Honey, I Shrunk The Audience. Lines were short here, too. Our longest wait — 15 minutes — was for Indiana Jones, but it’s well worth waiting for. Much to my disappointment, The Tiki Room, which is one of my favorites, was closed. (All the birds sing tunes and the flowers croon in the TikiTiki TikiTiki Ti-Ki Room.)

We grabbed a cold drink and checked the map to see what we wanted to do next. And then realized that there wasn’t anything else either of us was just dying to see. We were even done souvenir shopping. We were both ready to go home.

Mom’s take on Disneyland: Because this is, after all, Disneyland. But minus one because of the number of attractions that were closed. Even the Castle was wrapped up in plastic.

We rode the Monorail back to Downtown Disney, where I hit the bookstore for reading material. It was still early and neither of us was hungry. There’s a movie theater in Downtown Disney, so we decided to see Collateral with Tom Cruise and Jamie Foxx.
Mom’s take on Collateral: Lots of fun. Chills. Thrills. A bit too graphically violent. But definitely tense.

After the movie we still weren’t hungry, but #1 Son wanted a last slice of Key Lime Pie. We wandered over to House Of Blues to feed his jones. And then we headed back to the room. To tell the truth, we were both ready to come home.

At the room we found a nice surprise! We had “made” a punk teddy bear (actually, a bunny) at Build A Bear Workshop in Downtown Disney. Our turn-down-service person had posed it on #1 Son’s bed. That was a fun treat.

The next morning, we needed to be outside at 6:15 AM to catch the shuttle to the airport. (Blech, what a terrible time!) I asked for a wake-up call, and this time we actually got it! (Does it have to be Mickey calling? Yeah. I guess it does. This is Disney.) I’d se the alarm, too, just in case.

It was too early for room-service breakfast. But we drank coffee and packed. I’ve already blogged about the bullet-belt fiasco at the airport.

I was glad to be home. The fur-kids were glad to see me, too. All of them had lost weight at the Cat B&B. It’s not a big deal for Phoebe and Moo Cow, but it’s a little bit of a worry for Kidd. He’s made up for lost time since we’ve been back, though.

And that was how I spent my summer vacation!

Day # 1 was a travel day. I’ve already written about the joys of trying to get a bullet belt through airport security, so I won’t belabor that point.

Once we arrived at John Wayne Airport (aka Orange County) we proceeded to the shuttle stop and let the person there know what hotel we were going to. A shuttle arrived right away and we climbed in. We waited for a few minutes while our driver took a break. After a bit, a man and a woman who where apparently traveling together for business got on board.

We waited longer.

I don’t know if our driver just wanted a really long break or if the shuttle company wanted a full load. I didn’t really care, as I wasn’t in a big hurry to get anywhere. The other woman, however, got pretty antsy pretty quickly. She kept saying things like, “OK, let’s go!” and “any time now,” etc. She finally climbed over her companion and yelled at the driver, “Is this thing going to leave this year or what? We have important stuff to do!”

She was in a hurry, I guess.

I thought she’d be pissed when the driver let us off first, and I was now a little annoyed at her, I prepared to make some smart-ass remark like I guess we’re more important. But instead she smiled at me and said, “What a beautiful hotel! Maybe we should stay here instead of where we’re going.” I told her to have a nice stay, where ever that was.

I have to admit that Hotel California was going through my head our entire stay (alternating with The World Is A Carousel Of Color). But the Disney Grand Californian is, truly, a marvelous hotel. It’s all Arts & Crafts style, with a huge, many-story lobby in the center that has a walk-in, sit-in hearth to one side. There’s lots of inlaid marble and (probably fake) wooden beams.

This is embarassing, but I had a hard time finding the front door. It’s a huge pair of stained-glass, sliding doors that depict California scenes (or I assume that’s what it is). From the outside during the day, the glass looks like an inlaid mural. I almost walked in a “cast members only” door. #1 Son said, “where the hell is the door?” I answered with a shrug and started walking back the other way along the outside. I was actually startled when we walked near it and the doors slid open. From the inside, with the light shining through, it’s easier to see what it is.

I’ve been searching through the bird books, but I haven’t found anything that looks like the bird I saw the other morning. Ok, I was half asleep and only had a brief look at it as it flew in front of the car. But I do remember that long, streaming tail.

The closest I’ve been able to come so far is:

(1) Barn swallow — tail too short and color a bit off.

(2) Scissor-tailed flycatcher — this is most like what I saw. Oregon is way out of its normal range, although apparently the bird has been sighted along the coast on rare occasions.

(3) Something truly exotic, like a whydah or quetzal, that has escaped from its aviary.

(4) I hallucinated. #1 Son, after all, did not see this bird.

The other question, of course, is what in the hell is living in my chimney? Last night as I watched TV in the family room, I kept hearing a noise like scratching on metal. I muted the TV, listened, and determined that the noise was coming from the chimney flue. I pondered the situation for a bit, and eventually decided that discretion was the better part of valor. I really didn’t want whatever is living in there loose in my family room — although the cats would probably enjoy it. It was 86 today, so I’m not likely to need a fire for a few months.

Note to self: Have chimney cleaned before the bad weather sets in this fall.