R&R...except for that one ride...

Dave and I just got back from 5 days with the one and only, Casey and Christina Richards. We had a gay old time and they were kind enough to let us stay at their sweet SUITE in Orlando, Florida while Casey prepared for back surgery.

Let me begin by saying that Casey is truly a trooper. Who would think that a man, just days before back surgery and thus someone who is obviously in some serious pain, would go and do just about everything we wanted to--I say "just about" because he absolutely refused to ride a bike for 4. And I'm just positive it was because of the pain factor and not because you can't help but look absolutely ridiculous peddling around with 3 other adults. Dave and I did eventually ride a bike, for 2, and it was everything I'd ever dreamed of except for the fact that I was CONVINCED I had been the one maneuvering us around for about 30 minutes until I tried to veer right and the bike went left. Dave thought it was a riot because apparently he thinks I have control issues and that this discovery would only set me off. He is dead wrong, of course. I was perfectly fine: we just switched places seconds later and off we went peddling into the sunset. It was fantastic.

Anyway, we had a grand time eating delicious food, swimming, driving around on American freeways, chasing after ghosts on the fifth floor of a haunted hotel (boo!) in St. Petersburg, and even hunting alligators. Yes, we went on an air boat ride at 9pm through the Everglades and went lookin' for some gators. it was all fun and games until Dave, with a gator 2 feet behind him, pretended to stick his hand in the water. I was torn between begging him to come back in to safety and throwing him in the water as payback for torturing me... good Liz won, fortunately for Dave.

The trip was a hit except for this one terrifying ride Christina MADE ME GO ON (okay, it was all completely voluntary but please note that it was 100% me trying to not be a baby like when we went to Disney land with the Riches and I actually cried, CRIED, on a ride that SHOT me into the air 90mph about 30 stories high and then just dropped us to free fall long enough for me to see flashbacks of my short life, like 3x's, before it finally ended). Anyway, the ride entailed strapping myself precariously to these swings that dangled from about 30 feet of terribly weak looking chains (that humidity must corrode any kind of metal in like, a month) and catapulted us into the air hundreds of feet off the safe ground. I was fine until Dave started yelling hysterically in my ear, not out of joy, but fear, paralyzing fear. Dave doesn't like heights either and although he was acting like he was just making fun of me, I know it was him screaming out of terror just like a little girl...

If I had brought a camera, there would be plenty of pics to document this event but alas, we have to settle for this little blog. Dave and I have always tried to go on one "grown-up" trip a year, sans kiddies, and this year we were able to do it with some friends, too, which was great. We really had a great time and it was so nice to go on a great vacation and still have money to buy milk and diapers for the twins when we returned...

Which, by the way, was so very sweet. We were so excited to see the twins and were delighted to see that my parents had brought them to the airport. Lulu and Linda tore through the crowd in their cute little pj's. Linda embraced me, fiercely, and whispered in my ear, "Mommy, I am so happy Mommy. So happy." Me too, Linda.