>Florida Vacation – Part 2 – The Suwanee River, of Which We’re Way Down Upon

>I did no live-blogging of the Suwanee River portion of our vacation – you’ll find some tweets of buried here of a few pictures I fired off into the ether on the mornings we were there but they’re untagged and may be hard to find. Scroll down to the tweets posted around July 2nd if you insist but I’ll use this post for the pictures I took while we were there at the river house.

(Background on the riverhouse? Got it right here.)

This year’s trip wasn’t too terribly different than last year’s. A slightly different cast of characters but, essentially, it was the same. Only different. Which is how we like things ’round here, thank you very much.

First thing first. Arrival day means catching up with Aunt Toni. We’d just seen her for Rachel’s graduation not a six weeks prior but it was still grand to see her.

Aunt Vicki was there, of course, to our never-ending delight but a new player was her charming daughter, Laine.

We’d seen her only briefly last year but my cousin Marie was there, too. The number of years since I’d seen her last and spent any amount of time with her? To many to count. She made a perfect puzzle completing companion for Rachel.

Grandpop Pete and Nana make ready the black beans and rice:

Evening entertainment at the riverhouse is decidedly high tech:

Morning. Learning to prepare breakfast the Grandpop Pete way:

But first, some time for contemplation. Which fashion accessory is appropriate for a day in the the Florida wilds?

We floated the Itchetuknee river as we did last year and got no pictures at all. None whatsoever. So take my word that it was a marvelous time. Afterward we trekked into nearby Lake City to score some 4th of July fireworks but by the time we got back, I was stricken by a some kind of stomach bug that knocked me out for the rest of the afternoon. I rallied, though, and arose in the evening to more visitors had arrived.

That’s my cousin, Bubby, on the far left. Last seen? When Emily was only a few months old. Towards the rear is his daughter, Amanda, and her husband Brandon. Recent newlyweds and the first time we met them. Wonderful. Look forward to spending some more time with them in the future. To the far right, in black shorts, and possibly cut off due to formatting of this blog, still another cousin, Jean, Bubby’s sister. We’d seen her last year at this very spot and we were very happy to see her and visit with her again. Someone’s telling a raucous story.

When the insects get too be too much on a wild Florida evening, we move thing inside. Some of us have heard these stories thousands of times but not everyone has so they’re worth re-telling for their sake. Heck, they’re worth re-telling for the sake of those of us who’ve heard them a thousand times:

Next day, it’s activities as usual. Emily pilots the boat with a keen and cautious eye. Don’t let the wake fool you. She’ll soon have it up to maximum speed:

The Suwanee and some of its mysterious shoreline:

Rachel and Laine’s fiance, Jose, take to the river in the tube:

In Florida, there’s no escaping the afternoon rains. Things shut down for a while. Time to float along until it clears.

Not quite dark yet. Time to set off the fireworks procured the day before that don’t require darkness: smoke bombs!

Sparklers!

Marie’s son had provided fireworks that exploded and whistled and set off showers of sparks. Too bad I didn’t get any pictures of that but you know the type.

The morning after the day before. On the porch of the riverhouse:

A sure sign of summer at a place near water: beach towels and bathing suits draped everywhere to dry:

Morning on the river. Always beautiful. Always.

Today’s activity: four-wheelin’! I’ll drive, Dad. Well, okay:

Always time for style:

So that’s this year’s entry. A wonderful time with wonderful people of whom we too infrequently see far too little.

Next year? Who knows? But this one is one for the memory book.

>The Rest of Sanibel

>I live-blogged our Florida trip the best I could but now that we’re back and I’ve uploaded and tweaked the rest of our vacation pictures, there’s much I left out. Time to fill in the spaces.

It’d been ten years since we’d last been to Sanibel. Back then, renting bicycles was a thrill. Now, that wouldn’t do. We rented scooters, with Emily riding with me and Clara and Rachel riding a scooter of their own. Rachel knows how to rock the pink-flame helmet. (I tweeted Emily in her helmet here.) (More about the ride and the rest of that day here.)

Since I’m marking this occasion, why not a picture of where we ate that evening? Here you go!

Some after dinner boogie-boardin’ as the storm clouds gather:

You come to Sanibel not for the pristine beaches and the ocean views and the laid back lifestyle but for the shells:

Something else we’ve never done before: parasailing! Only the girls got to do it. (Here’s an explanation of why we didn’t go along.) The driver’s of the boat got some pretty good pictures with our camera:

Back ashore, it began to rain. We hustled in to a nearby funky cafe for shelter and a quick snack. A sole, live musician played guitar under the awning of the outside eating area and his soft jazz music was piped in:

Like all afternoon showers in South Florida, the rain didn’t last long and the sun came back out. Back to our room. Here’s where we stayed:

Some pool and ocean time until it was time to eat again. This time, an earthy seafood place. Good, fried food served in paper trays with only plastic forks and knives to eat with and paper towels to keep you tidy. We liked the vibe:

But we couldn’t tarry long. Sunset called us so we raced to Captiva to get the best view we could. But storms clouds from the hurricane across the Gulf made for a less than spectacular sunset. A nice silhouette of the girls, though:

And a nice windswept mother/daughter portrait of Emily and Clara:

The next day we had reservations on a boat headed for Cayo Costa for some serious shelling. (Here’s the original post.) But once again the clouds threatened:

On the Gulf side of the island, things looked less ominous. A Winslow Homer-ish portrait:

A screen grab from Lost? Close:

Lunch/dinner at another fine cafe:

And then some more boogie boardin’ in the storm-tossed sea:

Time to close things out and move on down the highway. (Here’s the post of our final day.) Some final shots:

The view south 75 yards from our room:

Like something from Joseph Conrad or James Michener:

Our room was the middle right:

I have a memory from ten years ago of eating breakfast at a cottage-y little place set back among some trees. Breakfast in paradise, as I recall. We never did find a place that matched by memory and I don’t know if this is the place but it’d do:

Serving up an all-American breakfast with an all-American girl. Rachel awaits her eggs and bacon:

We had miles to go and an another overnight stop before beginning the second phase of our trip. But this part was over and we were glad to have spent some time in a place that held so many fond memories. Let’s shove off, then. We’ll catch ya’ later in Branford, Florida along the shores of the Suwanee River.

Suwanee River

Here’s all you need to know about the Suwanee River.

This will probably be the last batch of vacation pictures I post – much of the Disney portion of the trip I’ve live-blogged already so scroll down for those. The other pictures we’ve taken were similar to last year’s so do a search for those and you can see pretty much what we did this year.

What’s different about this year’s trip to Florida, besides the float trip down the Itchetuknee, is our visit to Grandpop Pete’s riverhouse on the Suwanee River. (Some quick background about the house – Grandpop Pete and Nana bought it from my cousin – Grandpop Pete’s nephew – not too long after they retired a few years ago as a vacation home. It’s wild Florida, on a little over 3 acre lot, on the banks of the Suwanee River. Rustic but civilized – air-conditioning and indoor plumbing. Beautiful, as you’ll soon see.) We’d been there three years ago but haven’t managed to make our way back. The family manages to gather there on just about every major holiday weekend, and most everyone drops by on their way in and out of the area, and Nana’s visitor’s log shows someone is usually there every couple of weeks or so. Now that Grandpop Pete and Nana have moved closer – they’re now only two hours away – their visits are even more frequent.

This would be our first time in Florida around one of the major gatherings – about time, too. We wanted the girls to be around the rest of their huge family for a bit, something they hadn’t done for a little over 10 years. So we planned a visit to the riverhouse.

Let’s set the scene. Here’s an evening view of the river on a boat ride that Uncle Bob took us on shortly after we arrived:

The riverhouse in the morning, looking up from the dock:

The dock looking down from the house:

The wash house. Washer and dryer in the section on the right, a recent bathroom addition in the section on the right. The place is now a two-holer!

The workshop. I took this after the festivities so the toys have been put up and stashed away, ready for the next visit:

The ample porch:

A view of the house as you’d see it approaching from your parked car:

A view from the top of the steps leading down to the dock. The concrete pad and roof of the cookhouse is on the right:

Morning fog upriver:

Morning fog downriver. That’s Uncle David’s super-cool boat:

The weekend begins. Vehicles and campers for as far as you can see:

What better way to start things than a taste of Florida backwoods cuisine? Frog legs on the grill. Uncle Bob says you can have ‘em with the toes curled or uncurled, it’s up to you.

Grandpop Pete with Emily and Rachel. Rachel’s holding Poppy, Aunt Toni’s dorkie.

The crowd eats. First night, besides the frog legs, was Grandpop Pete’s lasagna. For the 4th, he’d barbecue ribs; the day after would be Cuban – pulled pork, black beans and rice, plantains. It’s like a cruise!

The morning after the day before, or something like that. Aunt Debbie lends a hand for breakfast in her jammies:

The crowed waits patiently for breakfast:

A hummingbird has already been served:

More patience:

Breakfast, at last!

After breakfast, we floated the Itchetuknee, then returned for a day on the river with the boats. Emily contemplates her future:

Rachel and Emily on the float pulled by Uncle John. Uncle John gave ‘em a ride for their money, doing his dangdest to toss ‘em off. The girls held tight:

Ah. Back in time to eat.

Great food, courtesy of the guy on the left:

The evening fades into night. That means a bonfire, thanks to cousin Tracy. S’mores and sparklers would follow:

Next day was picture day before everyone began their departures. Here’s why we brought the girls. Grandpop Pete and Nana with the grandkids who were able to make it:

So, a fine time? The finest! Thanks to Grandpop Pete and Nana and Uncle John and Aunt Vicki and all the other other aunts and uncles and cousins and friends who came and made us feel so welcome. We’ll remember this, and them, for a long, long time.

Suwanee River

Here’s all you need to know about the Suwanee River.

This will probably be the last batch of vacation pictures I post – much of the Disney portion of the trip I’ve live-blogged already so scroll down for those. The other pictures we’ve taken were similar to last year’s so do a search for those and you can see pretty much what we did this year.

What’s different about this year’s trip to Florida, besides the float trip down the Itchetuknee, is our visit to Grandpop Pete’s riverhouse on the Suwanee River. (Some quick background about the house – Grandpop Pete and Nana bought it from my cousin – Grandpop Pete’s nephew – not too long after they retired a few years ago as a vacation home. It’s wild Florida, on a little over 3 acre lot, on the banks of the Suwanee River. Rustic but civilized – air-conditioning and indoor plumbing. Beautiful, as you’ll soon see.) We’d been there three years ago but haven’t managed to make our way back. The family manages to gather there on just about every major holiday weekend, and most everyone drops by on their way in and out of the area, and Nana’s visitor’s log shows someone is usually there every couple of weeks or so. Now that Grandpop Pete and Nana have moved closer – they’re now only two hours away – their visits are even more frequent.

This would be our first time in Florida around one of the major gatherings – about time, too. We wanted the girls to be around the rest of their huge family for a bit, something they hadn’t done for a little over 10 years. So we planned a visit to the riverhouse.

Let’s set the scene. Here’s an evening view of the river on a boat ride that Uncle Bob took us on shortly after we arrived:

The riverhouse in the morning, looking up from the dock:

The dock looking down from the house:

The wash house. Washer and dryer in the section on the right, a recent bathroom addition in the section on the right. The place is now a two-holer!

The workshop. I took this after the festivities so the toys have been put up and stashed away, ready for the next visit:

The ample porch:

A view of the house as you’d see it approaching from your parked car:

A view from the top of the steps leading down to the dock. The concrete pad and roof of the cookhouse is on the right:

Morning fog upriver:

Morning fog downriver. That’s Uncle David’s super-cool boat:

The weekend begins. Vehicles and campers for as far as you can see:

What better way to start things than a taste of Florida backwoods cuisine? Frog legs on the grill. Uncle Bob says you can have ‘em with the toes curled or uncurled, it’s up to you.

Grandpop Pete with Emily and Rachel. Rachel’s holding Poppy, Aunt Toni’s dorkie.

The crowd eats. First night, besides the frog legs, was Grandpop Pete’s lasagna. For the 4th, he’d barbecue ribs; the day after would be Cuban – pulled pork, black beans and rice, plantains. It’s like a cruise!

The morning after the day before, or something like that. Aunt Debbie lends a hand for breakfast in her jammies:

The crowed waits patiently for breakfast:

A hummingbird has already been served:

More patience:

Breakfast, at last!

After breakfast, we floated the Itchetuknee, then returned for a day on the river with the boats. Emily contemplates her future:

Rachel and Emily on the float pulled by Uncle John. Uncle John gave ‘em a ride for their money, doing his dangdest to toss ‘em off. The girls held tight:

Ah. Back in time to eat.

Great food, courtesy of the guy on the left:

The evening fades into night. That means a bonfire, thanks to cousin Tracy. S’mores and sparklers would follow:

Next day was picture day before everyone began their departures. Here’s why we brought the girls. Grandpop Pete and Nana with the grandkids who were able to make it:

So, a fine time? The finest! Thanks to Grandpop Pete and Nana and Uncle John and Aunt Vicki and all the other other aunts and uncles and cousins and friends who came and made us feel so welcome. We’ll remember this, and them, for a long, long time.

Ichetucknee Springs

Dying to see more vacation pictures? Thanks to my brother John and his wife Vicki, I have access to the photos they took from their camera while we were in Florida. The highlight: our July 4th mini-float trip down the Ichetucknee River. (And by mini-float trip I mean a short, 1.5 hour trip, not a trip on teeny tiny floats. Har de har.)

Here’s what you need to know about the the Ichetucknee. Bottom line: crystal clear, spring-fed river. Cold. Mighty cold. Claims to be only 72 degrees but it feels closer to the ideal temperature to serve beer.

I’ve never floated an Oklahoma river before so I don’t have much to compare it to but hearing stories from those who have tells me floating the Ichetucknee is a little different. I mentioned the river’s the perfect temperature for beer but no beer’s allowed on the river – no coolers, food, etc. For one, the float trip’s not long enough. For another, it used to be a free-for-all, which appeals to the Libertarian in me but spoils the trip for everyone else. Florida owns and maintains it and sets and enforces the rules. For once, government intervention is a good thing.

There are all kinds of float vendors up and down the highway that takes you to the park. Lowe’s was our choice and they were very good. We pointed at the floats we wanted and they lashed ‘em down for us:

They have a drop off spot at the end of the trip and that’s the end of that. Well worth the price. Especially when your brother is picking up the tab.

The morning of July 4th, things can get a little crowded:

But we got in and parked and our group re-grouped at the pick-up point where the park’s tram loaded us up and hauled us to the drop-off point. A little backed up there, too, but in no time we’d splashed in – great big yelps of surprise at the water’s coldness – and we were off for a gentle drift down a river in the heart of wild Florida for the next hour-and-a-half.

Rachel take it easy in her boat. There’s Emily in the background. Uncle John’s feet in the foreground:

Sometimes the way gets a little jammed. No problem. These things sort themselves out:

(I think that’s the girls’ cousin Kristen in the above picture. . . No, it’s Emily. . . No, Kristen.)

Why don’t I just step aside and let the beauty of the place speak for itself. I don’t know if John or Vicki took the following but they’re lovely and I thank them for it:

An hour-and-a-half turns out to be the perfect length of time for such a trip. The water was cold and there was much of the day still ahead of us so, though we were glad for the chance to experience this part of Florida with our family, we were glad, too, to get out and move on to the rest of the day.

(Thanks to Uncle John and Aunt Vicki for making the trip memorable and capturing a part of it so we could re-live it. They’re a pretty good couplea people.)

Ichetucknee Springs

Dying to see more vacation pictures? Thanks to my brother John and his wife Vicki, I have access to the photos they took from their camera while we were in Florida. The highlight: our July 4th mini-float trip down the Ichetucknee River. (And by mini-float trip I mean a short, 1.5 hour trip, not a trip on teeny tiny floats. Har de har.)

Here’s what you need to know about the the Ichetucknee. Bottom line: crystal clear, spring-fed river. Cold. Mighty cold. Claims to be only 72 degrees but it feels closer to the ideal temperature to serve beer.

I’ve never floated an Oklahoma river before so I don’t have much to compare it to but hearing stories from those who have tells me floating the Ichetucknee is a little different. I mentioned the river’s the perfect temperature for beer but no beer’s allowed on the river – no coolers, food, etc. For one, the float trip’s not long enough. For another, it used to be a free-for-all, which appeals to the Libertarian in me but spoils the trip for everyone else. Florida owns and maintains it and sets and enforces the rules. For once, government intervention is a good thing.

There are all kinds of float vendors up and down the highway that takes you to the park. Lowe’s was our choice and they were very good. We pointed at the floats we wanted and they lashed ‘em down for us:

They have a drop off spot at the end of the trip and that’s the end of that. Well worth the price. Especially when your brother is picking up the tab.

The morning of July 4th, things can get a little crowded:

But we got in and parked and our group re-grouped at the pick-up point where the park’s tram loaded us up and hauled us to the drop-off point. A little backed up there, too, but in no time we’d splashed in – great big yelps of surprise at the water’s coldness – and we were off for a gentle drift down a river in the heart of wild Florida for the next hour-and-a-half.

Rachel take it easy in her boat. There’s Emily in the background. Uncle John’s feet in the foreground:

Sometimes the way gets a little jammed. No problem. These things sort themselves out:

(I think that’s the girls’ cousin Kristen in the above picture. . . No, it’s Emily. . . No, Kristen.)

Why don’t I just step aside and let the beauty of the place speak for itself. I don’t know if John or Vicki took the following but they’re lovely and I thank them for it:

An hour-and-a-half turns out to be the perfect length of time for such a trip. The water was cold and there was much of the day still ahead of us so, though we were glad for the chance to experience this part of Florida with our family, we were glad, too, to get out and move on to the rest of the day.

(Thanks to Uncle John and Aunt Vicki for making the trip memorable and capturing a part of it so we could re-live it. They’re a pretty good couplea people.)

Rachel’s American Idol Experience

I’ve downloaded all the pictures from my camera and cell phone and got the pictures that Uncle John took, so expect some more posts about vacation.

First up: Rachel’s American Idol Experience.

If you’re a fan of American Idol, you know the new attraction at Disney’s Hollywood Studios is The American Idol Experience. Interest contestants can audition throughout the day for one of three slots in seven shows, with a chance to win a slot in the finale and have a crack at winning the golden ticket, which is a pass to the front of the line of a real American Idol audition.

Rachel saw that and was hooked. Could she she try? Sure, why not? We headed out what we thought was first thing in the morning but was actually closer to noon and got in the short line for auditions. Made our way inside and she got her chance to sing her a capella version of a pop song I’m not familiar with but which she sounded beautifully. Right on key to my ears. Rachel’s always had the talent of perfect pitch. The screener gave her some tips, asked for some changes, and had her give it another go. Nailed it. But the screener said they only had 21 slots for the day and, unfortunately, they’d filled the ones they needed of her style. But she sounded and looked good, followed and applied directions well, and wished her luck. A nice let down. She’d gave it her best and, well, sometimes that’s -

“Dad, if we came back earlier tomorrow, I’d have a better chance of getting in.”

Well, I couldn’t argue with that logic. And it was good to see her fired up so, why not? We scheduled another early rise and when we got back to the room that evening, she spent a good deal of time practicing for the next day.

Next day, we were up bright and early and in the park a little after opening. Same routine, got to the first screener, who was a nice lady from Texas, and who, again, was impressed with Rachel’s sound and look and ability to follow and put into effect the advice she was given. On to the next round for her! Which was like a producer or something.

We cooled it for a while in the “red room,” with Coca Cola logos emblazoned everywhere, and Rachel got a chance to choose her performance song from a list and listen to the track on an iPod and do some more practicing. We got called in and met the “producer,” another nice, encouraging guy, and he had Rachel give her song a go with the backing track and watched her on his monitor. They have all sorts of videos throughout the process with Ryan Seacrest and the other Idols mouthing their lines and this time Seacrest came on and told Rachel she didn’t make it to Hollywood but she did make it to a show later in the day! Woot! Her slot was for 5:00 and she was to show up an hour before, with her VIPs – Mom and Emily – to show up for special seats at 4:30. She leapt out of the room, waving her lanyard, just like in the TV show. I managed to catch her at a calmer moment:

We came back as instructed – since she’s under 18, I have to be there for everything – and met her competition, a young man who is a theatre major in Pennsylvania, entering the National Guard in a month, and a young lady who had graduated with a theatre degree from New Jersey, who had competed two months prior and won her show but not the finale, wearing a red dress and nice shoes. Sigh. Well, Rachel was undaunted. She had time with hair and makeup:

Some time with a vocal coach, and then she cooled it for a while in the green room, which is actually more blue than green:

And we waited for rehearsal time. We were restricted from taking video and all I had was my Blackberry and I’d be stuck backstage during the performance but I would get a chance to see how things would go during rehearsal.

Here’s the sign on stage:

They worked on coming out onstage and hitting their spots:

And then she ran through her performance:

Wow! The backing tracks really boomed through the auditorium and Rachel kept right up with it. Flawless, if you ask me, and it’s not like I’m prejudiced or anything. The young man did Michael Jackson’s I Want You Back – suck up – which was quite good, and the young lady did a soulful version of Natural Woman. Tough competition but Rachel was up for it.

Backstage again for us. We heard the audience come in, got a peak at ‘em through the curtains – the auditorium held 1,000, not a huge amount but big enough – and Rachel managed to keep her cool.

Once Rachel headed back onstage, my only view was of the monitor. Thanks to my crappy Blackberry camera, I got some crappy pictures of the monitor and Rachel’s performance:

They had three judges, just like the show: an amiable black guy, who liked what he saw and heard, a kooky gal, who liked what she saw and heard, too, and a cranky guy, who was mean and got lots of boos for his comments. The other two performed, the audience voted and. . .

The girl in the red dress won.

Dang.

They closed the show, everybody rushed on stage and congratulated her, the judges and Seacrest character came back and slapped me on the back, and everyone was just as nice as they could be. Rachel took her loss well and we chalked this one up as something we’d never done before and we were glad Rachel had done it. Proud? Oh, you can’t imagine.

I think Rachel learned a little something about herself, about applying her talent, and overcoming her fears. Something you don’t expect when you go on vacation. Beats another set of Mickey Mouse ears.

Rachel’s American Idol Experience

I’ve downloaded all the pictures from my camera and cell phone and got the pictures that Uncle John took, so expect some more posts about vacation.

First up: Rachel’s American Idol Experience.

If you’re a fan of American Idol, you know the new attraction at Disney’s Hollywood Studios is The American Idol Experience. Interest contestants can audition throughout the day for one of three slots in seven shows, with a chance to win a slot in the finale and have a crack at winning the golden ticket, which is a pass to the front of the line of a real American Idol audition.

Rachel saw that and was hooked. Could she she try? Sure, why not? We headed out what we thought was first thing in the morning but was actually closer to noon and got in the short line for auditions. Made our way inside and she got her chance to sing her a capella version of a pop song I’m not familiar with but which she sounded beautifully. Right on key to my ears. Rachel’s always had the talent of perfect pitch. The screener gave her some tips, asked for some changes, and had her give it another go. Nailed it. But the screener said they only had 21 slots for the day and, unfortunately, they’d filled the ones they needed of her style. But she sounded and looked good, followed and applied directions well, and wished her luck. A nice let down. She’d gave it her best and, well, sometimes that’s -

“Dad, if we came back earlier tomorrow, I’d have a better chance of getting in.”

Well, I couldn’t argue with that logic. And it was good to see her fired up so, why not? We scheduled another early rise and when we got back to the room that evening, she spent a good deal of time practicing for the next day.

Next day, we were up bright and early and in the park a little after opening. Same routine, got to the first screener, who was a nice lady from Texas, and who, again, was impressed with Rachel’s sound and look and ability to follow and put into effect the advice she was given. On to the next round for her! Which was like a producer or something.

We cooled it for a while in the “red room,” with Coca Cola logos emblazoned everywhere, and Rachel got a chance to choose her performance song from a list and listen to the track on an iPod and do some more practicing. We got called in and met the “producer,” another nice, encouraging guy, and he had Rachel give her song a go with the backing track and watched her on his monitor. They have all sorts of videos throughout the process with Ryan Seacrest and the other Idols mouthing their lines and this time Seacrest came on and told Rachel she didn’t make it to Hollywood but she did make it to a show later in the day! Woot! Her slot was for 5:00 and she was to show up an hour before, with her VIPs – Mom and Emily – to show up for special seats at 4:30. She leapt out of the room, waving her lanyard, just like in the TV show. I managed to catch her at a calmer moment:

We came back as instructed – since she’s under 18, I have to be there for everything – and met her competition, a young man who is a theatre major in Pennsylvania, entering the National Guard in a month, and a young lady who had graduated with a theatre degree from New Jersey, who had competed two months prior and won her show but not the finale, wearing a red dress and nice shoes. Sigh. Well, Rachel was undaunted. She had time with hair and makeup:

Some time with a vocal coach, and then she cooled it for a while in the green room, which is actually more blue than green:

And we waited for rehearsal time. We were restricted from taking video and all I had was my Blackberry and I’d be stuck backstage during the performance but I would get a chance to see how things would go during rehearsal.

Here’s the sign on stage:

They worked on coming out onstage and hitting their spots:

And then she ran through her performance:

Wow! The backing tracks really boomed through the auditorium and Rachel kept right up with it. Flawless, if you ask me, and it’s not like I’m prejudiced or anything. The young man did Michael Jackson’s I Want You Back – suck up – which was quite good, and the young lady did a soulful version of Natural Woman. Tough competition but Rachel was up for it.

Backstage again for us. We heard the audience come in, got a peak at ‘em through the curtains – the auditorium held 1,000, not a huge amount but big enough – and Rachel managed to keep her cool.

Once Rachel headed back onstage, my only view was of the monitor. Thanks to my crappy Blackberry camera, I got some crappy pictures of the monitor and Rachel’s performance:

They had three judges, just like the show: an amiable black guy, who liked what he saw and heard, a kooky gal, who liked what she saw and heard, too, and a cranky guy, who was mean and got lots of boos for his comments. The other two performed, the audience voted and. . .

The girl in the red dress won.

Dang.

They closed the show, everybody rushed on stage and congratulated her, the judges and Seacrest character came back and slapped me on the back, and everyone was just as nice as they could be. Rachel took her loss well and we chalked this one up as something we’d never done before and we were glad Rachel had done it. Proud? Oh, you can’t imagine.

I think Rachel learned a little something about herself, about applying her talent, and overcoming her fears. Something you don’t expect when you go on vacation. Beats another set of Mickey Mouse ears.

Back!

Anything happen while I was gone? Good! Let’s keep it that way, okay?

First chance I’ve had to see how the mobile posting went. Good enough, I suppose. Cleaned up some of the spelling and formatting on the mobile posts so if things look a little different, that’s the reason why. I’ve downloaded my pictures from my camera so I’ll be sifting through those to see if what I can add, if anything. Could be a while, though, so don’t hold your breath. I’m sure you can find something to do in the meantime.

>Back!

>Anything happen while I was gone? Good! Let’s keep it that way, okay?

First chance I’ve had to see how the mobile posting went. Good enough, I suppose. Cleaned up some of the spelling and formatting on the mobile posts so if things look a little different, that’s the reason why. I’ve downloaded my pictures from my camera so I’ll be sifting through those to see if what I can add, if anything. Could be a while, though, so don’t hold your breath. I’m sure you can find something to do in the meantime.

Fog and Mist

Hard to believe the date on this one. More like October. Another view from the boardwalk.

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>Fog and Mist

>

Hard to believe the date on this one. More like October. Another view from the boardwalk.

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Disney Marketplace

Since I don’t know in what order these pictures will post because I’m mobile-blogging them, I’ll just jump in and hope things make sense.

We spent the evening at the Disney Marketplace. Huge crowds. As multi-ethnic as the Star Wars cantina scene though maybe not quite as dangerous.

A DJ on a stage led the young folk in dances to his jams. Lotsa Moms joined in; far fewer Dads. Finished up with The Chicken Dance which got everyone involved. The Chicken Dance cuts across all cultures. The universal dance.

The sun goes down, the lights come up, the magic cranks up a few notches, as if that’s possible.

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Disney Marketplace

Since I don’t know in what order these pictures will post because I’m mobile-blogging them, I’ll just jump in and hope things make sense.

We spent the evening at the Disney Marketplace. Huge crowds. As multi-ethnic as the Star Wars cantina scene though maybe not quite as dangerous.

A DJ on a stage led the young folk in dances to his jams. Lotsa Moms joined in; far fewer Dads. Finished up with The Chicken Dance which got everyone involved. The Chicken Dance cuts across all cultures. The universal dance.

The sun goes down, the lights come up, the magic cranks up a few notches, as if that’s possible.

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Rachel and Emily Begin Their Day

 

Rachel chows down.

Enter: Emily.

The day just got more interesting.

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Update: Swapped out Emily’s picture for a Picasa version that rotates the picture so she’s upright instead of on her side. The rotate function on my Blackberry works but didn’t save the change when I posted. No big deal.

Rachel and Emily Begin Their Day

 

Rachel chows down.

Enter: Emily.

The day just got more interesting.

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Update: Swapped out Emily’s picture for a Picasa version that rotates the picture so she’s upright instead of on her side. The rotate function on my Blackberry works but didn’t save the change when I posted. No big deal.

Battle of the Tribute Bands

Hotel California, an Eagles tribute band, was performing at the American Pavilion at Epcot as part of their summer concert series. We’ve caught tribute bands here before and they’ve always been good. Real crowd favorites.

Over at the Great Britain pavilion, British Invasion played. They’re a, you guessed it, a Beatles tribute band. We caught two of their sets but I didn’t get their picture. Another crowd-pleasing group, they’ve been here for 13 years. Not a bad gig.

Over at the Canada pavilion, it was Off Kilter performing. They’re not a tribute band but play a fun mix of rock and Celtic music. Their rock version of Danny Boy was surprisingly good. Lots of fans. One guy, who I think was a ringer, put on quite a dance show to their music. The band claimed to not know him but enjoyed him as much as the audience.

Think what you want about tribute bands. I read a recent article about them that pointed out they have their own loyal fan base and many perform with the blessings of the original. They’re out there, working hard at something they love, pleasing a lot of people. We should all be so fortunate.

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>Battle of the Tribute Bands

>

Hotel California, an Eagles tribute band, was performing at the American Pavilion at Epcot as part of their summer concert series. We’ve caught tribute bands here before and they’ve always been good. Real crowd favorites.

Over at the Great Britain pavilion, British Invasion played. They’re a, you guessed it, a Beatles tribute band. We caught two of their sets but I didn’t get their picture. Another crowd-pleasing group, they’ve been here for 13 years. Not a bad gig.

Over at the Canada pavilion, it was Off Kilter performing. They’re not a tribute band but play a fun mix of rock and Celtic music. Their rock version of Danny Boy was surprisingly good. Lots of fans. One guy, who I think was a ringer, put on quite a dance show to their music. The band claimed to not know him but enjoyed him as much as the audience.

Think what you want about tribute bands. I read a recent article about them that pointed out they have their own loyal fan base and many perform with the blessings of the original. They’re out there, working hard at something they love, pleasing a lot of people. We should all be so fortunate.

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That’s no man, man.

At the Japan pavilion at Epcot, we watched the drummers perform. Impressive, exciting. I thought the were men but when I moved closer, it became clear they weren't. Did that change things? Not really. It's the drumming that counts, not the drummer's gender. My assumption was the surprise. I missed getting their picture while they performed. I got them instead cleaning up afterwards.

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That’s no man, man.

At the Japan pavilion at Epcot, we watched the drummers perform. Impressive, exciting. I thought the were men but when I moved closer, it became clear they weren't. Did that change things? Not really. It's the drumming that counts, not the drummer's gender. My assumption was the surprise. I missed getting their picture while they performed. I got them instead cleaning up afterwards.

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Different Views of the Same Resort

We're at The Boardwalk Villas and no matter the time of day, you can't help but get a great shot, even with a camera phone. Of course, it's all part of the same Disney plot to convince you that you should be happy. Don't fall under its devious spell!

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Different Views of the Same Resort

We're at The Boardwalk Villas and no matter the time of day, you can't help but get a great shot, even with a camera phone. Of course, it's all part of the same Disney plot to convince you that you should be happy. Don't fall under its devious spell!

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Blue Lights

I hate hate hate blogging from my Blackberry. Part of the reason: I have no idea what these posts will look like until they post, then I can’t edit them well. This is a perfect example. Thought I’d included this picture with the previous post. Didn’t. Couldn’t do a dang thing about it. Except post it as a separate post. Which I did.

Anyway. . .

These are the pretty blue lights from the waiting line at Soarin’.

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>Blue Lights

>

I hate hate hate blogging from my Blackberry. Part of the reason: I have no idea what these posts will look like until they post, then I can’t edit them well. This is a perfect example. Thought I’d included this picture with the previous post. Didn’t. Couldn’t do a dang thing about it. Except post it as a separate post. Which I did.

Anyway. . .

These are the pretty blue lights from the waiting line at Soarin’.

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>Standing in the Soarin’ Line

>

It was only a promised 95 minute wait so we were game. At least we were indoors where it’s cool. The line goes by these panels where an animated computer program and audience participation provides the amusement. You move your body and stuff happens on the screen. Funny to look back at the crowd and see them waving their arms and gyrating like crazy. Turned the corner. The blue lights were pretty. Final wait time: somewhat longer than advertised. But the ride was so delightful we’ll hold off the lawsuits.

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Standing in the Soarin’ Line

It was only a promised 95 minute wait so we were game. At least we were indoors where it’s cool. The line goes by these panels where an animated computer program and audience participation provides the amusement. You move your body and stuff happens on the screen. Funny to look back at the crowd and see them waving their arms and gyrating like crazy. Turned the corner. The blue lights were pretty. Final wait time: somewhat longer than advertised. But the ride was so delightful we’ll hold off the lawsuits.

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>Hey, Man, It’s Bonnaroo!

>For the last two years, while either heading out or coming home, we’ve run into the Bonnaroo traffic in Tennessee. The long line of VW vans and beat up cars filled with youth and burned out Deadhead types puzzled us at first until we realized what it was all about. The roadblocks on the exits made us laugh – poor festival-goers who insisted on saving a few bucks by bringing their own dope with them rather than scoring on site were paying for their frugality with hassle from the Man, man! Heading out late this year means we missed all the fun.

Looks like they got along just fine without us:

Once the province of jam bands and their second-generation hippie fans, Bonnaroo has evolved into a four-day event that echoes rock’s happily chaotic, postcorporate world. Beginning last Thursday on a 700-acre farm here some 65 miles from Nashville, close to 80,000 fans gathered to enjoy all sorts of popular music, ignoring the artificial boundaries of genre in favor of singers who can sing, players who can play and composers who can write and arrange. Recordings are OK, these fans seemed to say, but the proving ground is the stage. Gaggles of blissed-out friends flocked from venue to venue — eight in all — seeking a shared experience with musicians and their music. Their code: Make magic or we’re gone; there’s something happening not too far away. . .

. . .With so many festivals in the U.S. and Canada, musicians are often booked to play the same events. Perhaps a new community is forming. The common link, as displayed at Bonnaroo ’09: These performers understand how to capture today’s rock audience and have the talent to do so. No wonder the four-day festival seemed such a joyous event.

Hey, Man, It’s Bonnaroo!

For the last two years, while either heading out or coming home, we’ve run into the Bonnaroo traffic in Tennessee. The long line of VW vans and beat up cars filled with youth and burned out Deadhead types puzzled us at first until we realized what it was all about. The roadblocks on the exits made us laugh – poor festival-goers who insisted on saving a few bucks by bringing their own dope with them rather than scoring on site were paying for their frugality with hassle from the Man, man! Heading out late this year means we missed all the fun.

Looks like they got along just fine without us:

Once the province of jam bands and their second-generation hippie fans, Bonnaroo has evolved into a four-day event that echoes rock’s happily chaotic, postcorporate world. Beginning last Thursday on a 700-acre farm here some 65 miles from Nashville, close to 80,000 fans gathered to enjoy all sorts of popular music, ignoring the artificial boundaries of genre in favor of singers who can sing, players who can play and composers who can write and arrange. Recordings are OK, these fans seemed to say, but the proving ground is the stage. Gaggles of blissed-out friends flocked from venue to venue — eight in all — seeking a shared experience with musicians and their music. Their code: Make magic or we’re gone; there’s something happening not too far away. . .

. . .With so many festivals in the U.S. and Canada, musicians are often booked to play the same events. Perhaps a new community is forming. The common link, as displayed at Bonnaroo ’09: These performers understand how to capture today’s rock audience and have the talent to do so. No wonder the four-day festival seemed such a joyous event.

>I’m Number 4!

>Look who’s number 4 on a Google search for saratoga springs disney pictures.

I’m Number 4!

Look who’s number 4 on a Google search for saratoga springs disney pictures.

>June 21st, 2008 – The End

>Up early and on the road – the hotel had no free breakfast bar and we weren’t willing to pay the per person price for the buffet. We stopped nearly two hours later for good ol’ McDonald’s, then hit the road hard and for good.

Up through Louisiana to Shreveport where we caught I-20 then headed West into Texas. It wasn’t long until we hit Dallas and we were into familiar territory again. The final push to home wasn’t bad at all.

Over to the ol’ folks to get the dogs. Some quick catching up with them and we loaded up the animals and all their gear and headed for home. Got in by late evening and it was a very nice thing.

It’s good to get away but it’s better to get home. And it’s good to get away with the ones you love. Doesn’t matter what we do, as long as I get to do it with them.

That’s it for this. I know the posts are rather hurried but they’ll have to do as a document to our trip. I’m afraid they don’t give much of a sense of the delight we had in going to all of the places we went and doing the things we did and seeing the people we saw. Believe me, it was a wonderful, wonderful time.

Now, about next year. . .

(One last word: I posted only some of the pictures we took; here’s a link to the entire album on Picasa. I think I published the best of what we took or those that helped tell our story but you may find some you like better.)