Adventure Time August.

Summertime madness paved the way for us to seek out adventure.

2013-08-03 13.06.39  2013-08-03 13.08.55

And we waded back into the waters of school and routine by heading over to open house. And this year? As first graders? Cooler than cucumbers, baby.


To celebrate last weekends of summer vacation we went big.

Indiana Jones Spectacular with Explosions Big.


Thumbs up to all the cool kids getting right back into the swing of it. This is a kid who has a plateful of sensory and cognitive issues to deal with and yet he’s ready and willing to be out there. Wants to make friends and play pretend and learn new ways to do things. He gets frustrated and I worry over all these things I can’t control and yet, I’ve got to believe in the kid’s spirit. The indomitable, hyper, loving spirit of this kid and his ability to take on the world while I guard his magic as best I can.

He blows my mind then builds a Lego city in the ruins of my fears.


My beloved and me went and played pretend in the land of make believe at the Rose & Crown Pub in the United Kindgom. It’s just a hop, skip and jump away by way of Epcot. It was rainy and gray and they had Doctor Who stuff in the shop and the fish and chips were delish and the Snakebites were perfect. My new happy place is quietly geeking out there with my guy while we discuss nerdy things and fill our bellies.

Yes__yes_I_am_going_to_sit_in_this_pub_all_day._Rain_or_shine. Pub_crawlin__in_make_believe_land. Spending_our_Sunday_afternoon_at_a_pub_talking_Doctor_Who.

My people are really big on breakfast and really REALLY big on Waffle House. I think one of the reasons my husband and I work is our shared love for the All Star Special. Growing up in Georgia, Waffle House was a rite of passage. It’s simply where you went after everything and my family and I followed suit. Despite the tiny tables, all five of us plus the people we always seemed to pick up along the way, always went to Waffle House. Here in Florida it wasn’t the same, and some people gave me the side-eye over my insistence on going there with its tacky decor and cheap, diner food. They all wanted to go to Denny’s.

Not my guy, though. My guy knew a good plate of bacon when he saw it. Listen, keep your undercooked eggs. I’ll take my perfect plate of Heaven every single time.


Don’t mind the Lucy Scowl. She makes that face for everything.


But see? Sugar and spice, that girl. Also, mud and airplanes and baby animals and pudding and cackling like a madwoman.

In the magic of kicking down mountains and building cities, our boy let us cut his hair this month. With clippers. With noisy, vibrating clippers against his very sensitive neck and ears. Did he have an epic meltdown when the headphones came off because of the hair clippings against his neck and the noise and the vibration? Yes. It was a giant version of the toddler whose hair we had to stop using clippers on so long ago. I’ve been cutting his hair with scissors for years.

I can’t cut hair.

Like, not even a little bit. I watch Youtube videos and get advice, but he wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and while I’d trim it all up well enough, his layers were getting out of control. I couldn’t even it all out for the life of me. I looked and I tried and yet it wasn’t working. I was seventeen again looking at a calculus test thinking, “WTF.” So, I’d been desperate to get the clippers to him JUST to even it all out. Maybe soon we can try the barber with enough explanation and hopes and wishes. We’ve gone from me taking scissors to his hair while he’s sleeping like a stealthy stalker, to cutting it in the bath with rolled up pants and praying not to nick an ear, to this. So, maybe. We love the maybes around here.


I end this month with celebrating getting back to school and our routines, because I’m a hermit who loves a good routine. Cheers to day dates and playing make believe and getting new nerdy obsessions with Doctor Who and the perfectness of finding a really good burger place.

Like, Really Good.


Like, I’m gonna paint you a ceiling of a cathedral good.

See you again next year, August. It’s hotter than a humid Hades out, but summer is coming to a close. While some are getting stoked over their pumpkin lattes returning, I’ll be over here drinking my OctoberFest believing in the magic of college football returning to us.


Here’s to next month with its weddings and musical festivals filled with banjos, cheap wine and Plus Ones.

There’s a lot of dancing to be had in September.


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