I am continually reminded about the absolute power music possesses.

In small ways, I see it every day at work. 

When kids light up over a melodic phrase. 

When they leave the classroom completely energized because the music is JUST SO AWESOME. 

I've obviously felt it in my own life. The number of times a simple piece of music has brought me to tears, goosebumps all up & down my arms, dorky grin on my face....Well. They're incalculable, really. 

But you don't just have to take my word for it. Look it up. 

There are hundreds of studies, done by hundreds of people

                                                                       that prove my point: music is powerful. 

And sneaky. 

Do you want to know why you know the shark is coming?

Because the music tells you so. 

I mean, obviously. 

Name me one person who couldn't sing the "Jaws" Theme. 

But music is sneaky. 

Why do you feel that pit of dread in your stomach?

'Cuz the music tells you it should be there. 

But in a hundred

 thousand

 million little ways

 before you actually hear that infamous 2 note theme. 

I often get a hard time when I go to the movies with my family,

because while they're all focusing on the visual drama,

I'm listening for the audio drama. 

You could get the BEST actor in the world,

Pair him/her with the BEST director,

The most critically-acclaimed visual effects artist,

The best camera crew, 

costume department,

make-up artists,

And, without the music, it'd all be...

Eh. Okay. 

Imagine a simple landscape scene. 

There's clouds in the sky, 

birds on a telephone wire.

No big deal.

With two simple clips of music, I can manipulate the way you feel about that simple landscape scene.

Yes, you read that right.

I can manipulate your feelings.  

I read something once,

talking about horror movies,

that stated that:

if you want to hide from the horror on the screen,

don't just close your eyes.

Close your ears.

Music is powerful.

Music matters.

The newest Star Trek Into Darkness trailer. 

(by the way: I'm really REALLY excited about this movie.)

The actors, the explosions, the promise of drama...

All valuable and very present aspects to this trailer.

But there's something else. And it's not so sneaky in this case.

Watch that clip once, as is.

Take in the awe, the excitement, the adrenaline, the drama. 

Now watch it again. Sans audio. 

Same actors.

Same explosions.

Same promise of drama. 

And yet...

Yawn. 

Why?

Now, I'm aware that pushing the mute button not only gets rid of the music, but the dialogue as well. 

If I were more tech savvy, I'd engineer some little presentation that does the work for you,

AND keeps the dialogue in. 

But I'm not.

So...

My point is this: 

Music is so linked to us, in so many different ways, on so many different levels, that it allows us to connect with other things

other people,

other places, 

other ideas,

on a deeply personal level. 

Without the music, you would never find yourself with burning questions, such as

"What did Kirk do this time, that arrogant son of a gun?"

"Is it really the end of the Enterprise?"

and my favorite:

"Why do I feel so anxious?"

The music makes the trailer. 

The music enhances the drama, the emotion, the feeling, the energy. 

It's what music does. 

And that is so cool. 

One Last Shot

I will always see the dirt road and canal behind 117 E 100 S Burley, ID. 

Back before I had an iPod--back before anyone really had an iPod--I had a simple discman.

One little portable device that could play one solitary CD at a time. 

I saw "Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl" for the first time with one of my then-best friends, E. 

Gosh. We must have been, what, 12? It was sometime before the huge blow-up; before steps were taken and words were mistaken and everything ended up so differently .

We went with her mom--which only reaffirms that we must have been 12, because otherwise we couldn't have gotten in. 

The details are oh so fuzzy...and it feels so long ago, but for some reason, I can't shake the idea that these things are fact. 

I saw "Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl" for the first time with one of my then-best friends, E. 

I say for the first time, because I distinctly remember taking my mom to see it (well, she took me, being the adult and possessing a driver's license and money and all) for my second time. 

I remember this so distinctly because I felt sick that night, and had to leave for the bathroom during Captain Jack and Will Turner's swordfight in the blacksmithery. 

I'm losing my point. It's drowning in a puddle of soft-hearted nostalgia that got left somewhere on Memory Lane. 

But the point is this: I spent so much time out past the pasture, sitting by the canal, listening to this song. 

I ran to that canal when I was mad, when I was upset, when I just wanted to be alone, when I wanted to think or dream... It was my spot. 

A sort of poor girl's ocean, I guess, but there always has been something so soothing about the sound and sight of moving water. 

I've loved film score since...well, since I can't remember when. It was the gateway drug to classical music, my first deviation from pop and country and 80's ballads. 

I wasn't raised on Tchaikovsky and Beethoven and Brahms--I knew who they were, sure, and I always had a deep love for the Fantasia movies, and music has always been a part of me, but I wasn't raised on a strict diet of classical music.

I don't even know, now, that I wish I had been. 

In a way, I was introduced to Tchaik and Ludwig and Johannes through film score. 

And for that reason, some of my greatest memories are set to various tracks from various popular movies. 

And that's why this track, and the first movie of the Pirates franchise, will always take me back to that dirt road. To that spot that sank just a little lower, close enough that I could reach my feet in the water without fear of falling all in, surrounded by tall weeds and not-too-disgusting bugs. Summer time and late afternoons, when the sun wasn't directly above, but just beginning to leave, making the canal water glittery and exciting. The faint breeze that so often accompanies any type of Idaho weather, rushing the water along, creating tiny waves in the middle of my poor-excuse for an ocean. 

Oh how I loved that spot. And this song. And this movie. 

Which brings me to why I even thought to start this post. 

It's nothing big or earth-shattering: I watched the 4th Pirates movie today. Funny, entertaining, a bit sweet, and a bit adventurous, but not really my cup of tea. 

I much prefer the first three installments. 

I still haven't decided if that's just nostalgia talking, or if the first three really were better. 

Corny Will & Elizabeth love story and all. 

...to be fair, though, maybe that's why I like them so much more. 

I mean, cuz, really, didn't we all fall a little bit for Will Turner? 

---

Yeah. It's probably just the nostalgia talking. 

The Superhero Bug and Drug

I have never really been a superhero fan.

Okay. Maybe I should word that differently.

Because, I mean, don't get me wrong,

I loved the new Batman movies.

They were--and still are--absolutely fantastic flicks.

(I cannot WAIT until the next one comes this summer...)

...And, I will even admit that I really liked the Spiderman movies.

Well.

The first and second ones, anyway.

I guess I should say that I was never a big comic book fan.

Marvel? DC? What's the difference?

I didn't really trawl the internet looking for news on the latest and greatest from either of the comic book company super-powers (see what i did there? right? right??)

I'd see the preview while waiting for another, less tight-clad character's movie, and think: 

Oh, a new superhero movie's coming out?

Cool.

They'll probably blow something up.

The protaganist will probably be really hot and full of inner-conflict.

Might be a good way to kill an hour.

But then I got bit by the Superhero bug.

I got bit hard.

For the record, I completely blame my awesome and completely 'hero-obssessed friend Naomi for my exposure to this disease.

Although, I feel like that statement loses a little of its "not-my-fault"-ness since she completely owns--and takes pride in--her involvement in my illness.

....

Yeah.

I saw Captain America: The First Avenger for the first time during summer break when I took a trip with Naomi to visit good ol' California.

To be completely honest, if I hadn't been with her and her equally superhero-obssessed younger siblings, I probably wouldn't have seen the movie until it came out on video.

(DVD? BluRay? can you even say something "comes out on video" anymore?)

I was hooked.

While still in California, I watched, again, the first Iron Man movie.

When I got home, I went to see The Cap again...then rented the 2nd Iron Man and re-watched both of The Hulks.

(.....yeah, I don't feel like I was wrong to mostly ignore those ones. They're just...not.....good..)

My disease got worse.

I rented and re-watched Batman Begins and The Dark Knight.

I watched the first "old" Spiderman.

 I bought Captain America the day it came out.

And then, when it didn't seem possible (or plausible); I got sicker.

I started looking for more previews of the promised 2012 summer blockbuster, The Avengers.

Less than a month before the Movie of All Movies came out,

I bought Thor, Iron Man, and Iron Man 2.

I found all of the released previews for the superhero mash-up movie on YouTube.

Started keeping an eye out for Avengers-Info on the web.

Who was the composer? Would all the superheroes make a triumphant return?

All of the superheroes...

...in 1 movie?

I saw The Avengers the night after it opened.

And it was there, in that dark theater, surrounded by countless other infected people,

I realized:

It's not just a bug.

It's a drug.

If it was just a bug, it'd go away.

Eventually.

Leaving you worn-out and Superhero-weary.

But after the initial sickness wore off, I found myself craving more.

And, judging from the box office numbers and the amount of people I saw standing in line outside a cinema that dedicated 4 different theaters to one movie, I know I'm not the only one.

Which leads me to wonder...

Why are Superheroes so addictive?

And I'm ignoring (for now) the obvious we-just-like-a-good-looking-person-dressed-in-tights-running-around-while-stuff-explodes thing.

We're not that shallow.

....

Um.

....

Right.

I got a little teary during the movie.

I'm not afraid to admit that.

And, really, if you know me and my rather impressive rating on the sap-scale,

it shouldn't be that surprising.

But guess what?

I wasn't the only one in that theater that got a little emotional.

I literally shared laughter and tears with 60 or so complete strangers.

I had people I've never met before (and will never see again) turn to me and smile companionably.

The guy sitting next to me actually gave me a rather sympathetic "I know, I know" smile when I got a little choked up near the end.

When something funny happened,

every single person in that theater turned and shared the joke with their neighbor

 (usually the party that had accompanied them),

then turned and shared the same moment with their other neighbors

(usually not the party that had accompanied them).

There was one group seated next to me and my party that found our hysterical giggles absolutely charming.

There was another group seated on the other side of us that found them......less so...

..But even so, for those 2.5 hours, we were all united through a common experience.

I think I may have it figured out.

Why we crave Superheroes.

Why we find ourselves cheering on the flawed but love-able Tony Stark.

The loyal, patriotic, sacrificing Steve Rogers.

The once-immature but now stable King of Asgard.

The tightly-wound, quiet-guy Bruce Banner.

I think it's because...we kind of like the idea.

The idea that there really are people in this world who stand up to evil.

Who don't run when things get hard.

I think we like it even more when they're kind of flawed.

Like us.

That, no matter how selfish and average they may seem,

when the time comes, they do the right thing.

Every time.

With how scary the world is now,

I think the Super-Drug is even more potent.

We may not have horn-hatted Lokis bringing scores of alien forces to destroy our world,

but we have our fair share of evil.

Ours just happen to come in the form of world leaders.

And poverty and rape and murder.

Lies and disease and anger.

Racism and war and cruelty.

It comes in the form of people who just want to watch the world burn.

So the idea that

 an average human-being, given an extraordinary opportunity, would stand against any and all of evil's many forms,

that good somehow always wins, even when it seems unlikely,

is,

to say the least,

Comforting.

Inspiring.

Maybe for some people, it is a push to be a superhero in their own way.

Maybe for others, it's a ray of hope,

a reminder that good people do still exist.

Or, maybe it really is just the

good-looking, tights, explosions thing.

I don't know.

All I do know, is that I will continue to watch superhero movies.

I will continue to get chills and swells of pride and big, goofy smiles on my face.

I'll more than likely cry again.

I will definitely go see The Avengers again before it leaves theaters.

I'll sink further into my disease, my new-found addiction.

And I won't really be surprised at the number of people who'll join me there.

May It Be

We had nicknames.

At least 4, each.

Pirates of the Caribbean, Lord of the Rings, Titanic,  and The Belgariad series.

(the important things, y'know).

We lived off of Pixie Stix and Fanta.

We were constantly together during the summer.

It just wasn't a party if even one of us wasn't there.

We tied my dad's creeper to the back of our 4-wheeler and dragged each other all over my yard.

We played "My Heart Will Go On" on repeat and sat around eating Hostess Fruit Pies with forks, pretending to be the elite guests on the upper levels of the Titanic itself.

Every early release day, we went to lunch (Subway or DQ),

got bags of candy and "kiddy crack" from the Penny Candy place,

and went to cuddle guinea pigs and stare at fish in the Pet Store.

We went to the dollar store and bought silly hats and scarves,

and terrorized the staff of King's with our giggling and stuffed animal fights.

We had sleepovers every Friday night, where we chugged orange Fanta and downed Pixie Stix.

We obsessively watched the extended editions of each Lord of the Rings trilogy.

We drooled over our favorite leading men and watched all of the bonus material until we had it memorized.

We had a "Bond Stronger Than Sisterhood" and BFF promises and signs.

Until we didn't.

We spent one summer happy as clams together, but, as they usually do,

things changed.

There were fights and back-biting and hurt feelings and mean words.

There were vicious notes and secret agendas and plenty of lies.

We were Jr High girls after all.

But for that one summer, we were tight.

Spotify popped up with Enya's "May It Be" tonight, which brought on this onslaught of memories.

I swear I could smell the freshly cut summer grass again,

could taste tangy orange Fanta and sickly sour purple Pixie Stix,

  I could hear each of them using our nicknames again.

We each drifted apart through various degrees of anger, hurt, or neglect.

Even the one I held onto the longest, I haven't spoken to since our senior year of high school.

I hear from them all, every once in a while now.

There's no more hurt feelings, no bitter regrets or attitudes.

I don't think we really miss each other.

We're happy and content with our lives the way they are.

But I don't think I'll ever be able to hear that song without thinking of them.

Without remembering how many times we stayed up waaay past our bedtime

memorizing the lines and faces of the Fellowship of the Ring.

Without remembering how we used to be each other's favorites.

Frodo, Pippin, & Galadriel,

Nedzy, Velvet, & Xantha,

Cap'n Jack, Commodore Norrington, & Ragetti,

I hope you girls are doing well

and I wish you all the best.

:)

Thanksgiving, Part 1: There and Back Again

I love California.

I love Southern California, to be more specific.

I love it a lot.

So you can imagine my excitement when it was decided that we would spend Thanksgiving in good ol' SoCal.

Not only did this mean good California weather (of which I am most definitely a fan), close proximity to the ocean (LOVE), and Disneyland (double love!), but it also offered a chance to take a couple trips down Memory Lane.

It's been a long time.

Excepting the yearly music trips to Anaheim all through my high school career, I haven't seen Redlands, CA, in over 10 years.

First thing we saw after finding the rental car and the hotel.

How much I would give to live in one of the houses

that line the streets that lead to this....

'Tuney and I found the remnants of what must have been the Little Mermaid's birthday party

:)

Sunday afternoon, we took a little time to find the old haunts and reminisce for a while.

Our first Redlands house, on Dearborn Street.

In between the nice old man who loved old cars

and the totally cool couple (he had a long, black ponytail) who owned two really big dogs.

In front of the bitter old feller who called the cops on us 3 times one night because our

brand new puppy was barking.

With the TV room in that corner window you can see there, where I remember watching

"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" on Christmas Eve

and "America's Funniest Home Videos" on weekends.

The Padua house.

There used to be nasty "rat"-trees lining that front side of the house.

Where that medium-size excuse of a tree is now, there used to be a bigger one, with long, sloping, reaching, twisting branches that were perfect for climbing on and sleeping in.

This was the house with the squishy church doors that divided my room from my brother's.

With the fireplace and colored-brick hearth we so rarely used.

Where I had seashells painted on the walls of my room,

and sang Eagles hits into Big Pops popsicles.

Where the avocado tree from next door reached in just far enough

and the dad-made fort in the backyard was just high enough.

This house was only a few numbers down from where Sterling the schnauzer lived.

The site of the now-infamous mandarin orange incident.

(....More about that at a later date....)

Where we made berry-soup with the needles and nasty, stain-prone blue berries from the rat-trees.

Where we owned our very first, ancient computer.

Where we had taco-eating contests and fell asleep to Disney movies after long days at

'Pharaoh's Lost Kingdom' or the beach.

The front lawn, where I remember standing one night with my mom, blinking as the beams of a helicopter searchlight swept across our street, looking for the man who was running up and down our road.

The back yard, near the fence, where I remember seeing glittery eyes and hearing the disgruntled grumbles of the possums that frequented our home.

The garage, where I remember storing all of our boxed up things before we left that house to move on to the next, great adventure.

Our church building.

They don't make them this pretty in Idaho.

Just sayin'.

My first elementary school.

The good ol' Crafton Cougars.

The flagpole, where we had a flag raising ceremony every morning.

After the National Anthem, we'd sing things like the Pizza Hut/KFC/McDonald's song

and 'Yankee Doodle Dandy.'

This little area, where I'd wait under those huge trees for mom to come pick me up.

Where I met the local weatherman, who signed a copy of his book for me.

A couple of the classroom buildings.

The best was on a rainy day, walking under the covers to class, shielded from the rain,

but still able to smell it, to see the gray sky, and to feel the cool air.

Redlands Temple

Though it was built after we'd left, it's still my favorite temple.

Would love to go inside it one day.

The coolest library ever.

  

Stained-glass windows

and story-time on the rug in the kids' section

This is what hometown libraries are supposed to be like.

Yeah, I'm looking at you, southeastern Idaho.

Spending most of the day visiting familiar places was pretty amazing,

but being able to spend some time visitng with familiar faces was even more special.

On a split-second decision, we headed to Corona and,

with a little help from Google,

and the rented car's GPS,

we were able to find Uncle Tom's house.

Ok. He's not really my uncle.

Tom was my dad's best friend in med school.

And, though they've kept in contact over the years,

--holiday cards & letters, emails, birthday phone calls--

it had been over 13 years since they had seen each other in person.

We planned on stopping by for only a little while--an hour, tops--since we arrived so unexpectedly.

We were there for over 5 hours.

There's a reason I--still to this day--call him "Uncle" Tom.

We spent the whole afternoon and evening with Tom and Carrin and their four beautiful kids.

We played video games, we watched movies, we ate pizza, we laughed (a lot),

and, most importantly,

we talked.

Do you know how rare friendship like this is?

It's the stuff of legends.

I hope to be a part of a friendship that can spend 13 years apart,

then spend over 5 hours talking like it's been only 5 minutes.

The Minahans are definitely family.

It was great to hear and tell stories;

It was heart-warming to see The Littles and the Minahan clan become best buddies so quick;

but, honestly, one of my favorite parts of this story was watching the interaction.

It's hard to describe how nice it is

to see people love the people you love

as they should be loved.

To put it more succinctly,

with all the crummy people we've had the

..."pleasure"...

of meeting, to see people whom my parents love

treat ma & pa the way they deserve

was truly awesome.

The last time I saw Tom,

I was dancing under the twinkle-lights at his and Carrin's wedding.

But no matter how old I am, he will always be

Uncle Tom.

The guy who took us deep-sea fishing and sailing,

and alternated answering the phone with babbling Spanish

and mooing like a cow.

:)

We are so grateful for the Minahans.

Hopefully it won't be another 13 years before we see each other in person again.

All right, all right, all right.

Enough sentimentality.

Now the real reason I love California.

I know, I know, I'm incorrigible.

What can I say?

I got started young :)

Thanksgiving, Part 2: DiSnEY!

I am a perfect example of why Disney makes so much money.

I am pretty sure that when the bigwigs at Disney sit around their boardroom table (shaped like Mickey Mouse, of course) and muse over how they can manipulate more money out of Disney-holics, diehard fans, and your average-everyday-sap,

they have my picture

on a slideshow presentation

with a big red arrow

proclaiming: "TARGET AUDIENCE."

More than 99.9% sure, guys.

Because, unfortunately, it is all too true.

I would pay a lot for a moment of Disney Magic.

I got a little teary during the World of Color.

I got goosebumps during the fireworks.

I had a big, idiot grin on my face through the entire parade.

I wait in 90 minute-long lines for a 5 minute Peter Pan ride.

I am more excited to see the characters around the park than most children are.

I fly elephants and spend 15 minutes listening to "It's a Small World" because that's just what you do at Disneyland.

I giggled all the way through the Jungle Cruise guide's puns.

I believe in the Disney Spirit.

That means no being grouchy or cynical while at The Happiest Place on Earth.

I love the giant, swirly, colored lollipops (that you don't ever really eat, because 1: they're not always that tasty & 2: how could you possibly find all the time required to down those suckers??)

If I had my way, I'd buy every Disney character hot chocolate mug.

I'd watch the fireworks every single night.

I'd eat about a billion churros everyday.

A million Mickey Mouse-shaped pretzels.

And I would most definitely buy several balloon-within-a-balloon balloons every day.

In other words?

Best. Thanksgiving. Ever.

Thanksgiving break.
In Disneyland.
With my family.
And my mom's sister's family.

It was the first time The Littles (after the gap siblings) had ever been to Disneyland.
It was the first time any of my cousins had ever been to Disneyland.

It was so fun to watch them all experience it for the first time.

<SAP ALERT>
I don't care who you are, your first visit to Disneyland, especially as a kid, is magical.

(I did warn you.)

I'm amazed by those kids sometimes.
I watched my 5 year old brother and 7 year old sister ride not only things like Space Mountain, but also things like the Tower of Terror

And the roller coaster, California Screamin'

Yeah. It goes really fast. And loops.

Not only did they brave these terrors that I never would have dreamed of attempting until I was at least 15, they LIKED them. A lot.
Their favorite ride of the whole trip?
California Screamin'.
I'm tellin' ya, this next generation.....

A few highlights of the trip?
The opening of Pirates of the Caribbean on Thanksgiving Day--it had been closed since Labor Day for remodeling. THANKSGIVING PRESENT, anyone? :)
The ride attendant who asked us if we wanted to ride Matterhorn twice IN A ROW for absolutely no reason.
NOT having anyone throw up after the Teacups.
Actually hearing the kids' minds explode continually.
The Toy Story Mania ride in California Adventure.

So. Fun.

Probably one of the best rides we did.

Do you know one of the best ways to add a little more magic to Disneyland?

Add a little Christmas :)

I have never experienced Disney during the holiday season, but taking into account how big of a sap I am, is it any surprise how much I love it??

Everything was decorated...

The characters were all dressed in their holiday best..

Christmas songs were playing over the speakers..

Love.

Taken just after the fireworks.

I don't know. I love this picture. There's just something about big crowds and Christmas lights...

They had some pretty awesome T-Shirts

And of course, when in Disneyland, trying on hats is an absolute must.

 

 

"I'm a Wizard-Pirate!!"

   

 

    

I'm all about the sentimental.

(Duh.)

I like thrill rides.

I'll ride haunted elevators.

I'll scream my way through space.

I'll adventure with Indy,

and yell at yetis.

But I love the sentimental stuff even more.

That's what Disneyland is about for me.

It's about flying Dumbo

and walking through the castle.

It's meeting Mickey and posing with princesses.

'Finding Nemo' and 'Winnie the Pooh'

It's the "World of Color"

And fireworks

And the best parts of the parade:

But, hands-down, my absolute favorite place in the whole Disneyland/California Adventure complex is here

If you're looking for it,

in the Hollywood section of California Adventure,

you can find the the Animation Studios building.

The main room is huge, with lowered lights,

and movie screens of different sizes stretched from wall to wall,

playing clips from all the best Disney movies.

But don't be sucked in-- for too long ;) --because if you find your way downstairs,

and pass through the Sorcerer's Workshop,

you can find this

The Beast's Library.

It's a small room.

Too many people in there, and it can feel kind of crowded.

But it can also feel...

comfortable.

(Do I even need to give SAP ALERTs anymore?

I mean,

we're on the same page

..right?)

There are big, open book-screens where you can find your true Disney persona.

A fireplace, with the rose and the painting above it.

And the music, that changes from sad and lonely

to Happily Ever After-y

And with the music changes the lights, rose, and portrait.

It's all about sentimentality, people.

The Disney Spirit.

Because, honestly?

If you lose the Disney Spirit, you start remembering that you've been up since 7am.

After spending 16 hours in the park the day before.

And going to bed around 2am.

That you're standing in a 50 minute line for a 7 minute ride.

That you just got shoved into a sweaty park-goer by another sweaty Disney-enthusiast.

You start wishing you could go back to the numb-feet phase,

cuz right now they hurt so bad you'd give ol' Mickey himself a good knuckle-sandwich

just for a shady spot of sidewalk to collapse on.

The Disney Spirit, y'all.

It works miracles.

Cuz if you fully immerse yourself in it,

you can run 16-hour days,

trekking hundreds of miles around a packed theme park.

You can forget your feet for a while.

(that's a blessing sometimes, trust me)

You can trick your migraine-warped brain into having fun by watching a bunch of young Jedis defeat Darth Vader AND Darth Maul.

You can even have fun while standing in a 50-minute line.

Up your dose of Spirit just a bit, and you can find magic and sentimental goosebumps all over.

In the post-firework snow that smells like pumpkin pie.

In the belly of a submarine as you explore Nemo's world.

As you stroll the California Adventure "boardwalk" after dark.

When seeing Mickey and the Gang in REAL LIFE!!!

Three days spent in the Happiest Place on Earth.

Three days of laughing

and screaming;

some crying,

a few stumbles,

a couple of headaches,

bruised feet,

pictures,

and smiles.

How was your Thanksgiving? :)

Phew.

I think I actually depleted my sap-supply.

Better go watch Beauty & the Beast, quick!