And Through the Gator-Infested Swamps Go the Girl Scouts

Scenic, perhaps. But you don't care about scenery when it's in the 90s.

Like an idiot, I told my wife awhile back that I 'wouldn't mind' chaperoning a hike with Alayna's Daisy troop.  Stuff like that just spills out of my frickin' mouth and I don't even think about it. . . then, weeks later, when I'm looking forward to a nice quiet day off of work, I'm reminded that I have to get up and around and take my kid on a stupid hike with the girl scouts.

Awesome.

I envisioned a boring stroll through the woods. . . which, in view of what actually transpired, would have been amazing.  No, we were all in for one hell of a forced march through swamp country, under a blazing sun with no sunscreen or bug repellant to be found.

Behold:

Our troop wasn't the only troop to be hiking this trail this afternoon - there were at least a half-dozen others - so they split up all the girls and hodge-podged them up into random groupings of six, led by a high school-aged girl scout and accompanied by an adult.  This meant I would be spending the next few hours walking through the wild with the Cannonball, five random first-graders from other Daisy troops, and some high school chick.  Cowabunga.

Walkway over the previously-shown river.  About 1/4 of this hike was through the woods, and that part was decent (mostly due to the shade.)

I brought up the rear to ensure we didn't have any stragglers. . . such as the blonde girl shown here.  If there's a marching line to be formed, you can always spot Alayna in the back (by a ways) dragging her feet and looking bored.

I was pissed Alayna and I were rushed out the door prior to this hike - we were both running late - and consequently neither of us put on sunscreen or insect repellant.  Not that the bugs were that bad, but I would eventually catch a tick in Alayna's hair towards the end of this hike.  And those assholes carry diseases. 

This is where things took a turn for the worst.  We followed the trail through the woods until it came out into a clearing, where there was a wooden bridge (see above.)  Much to my dismay unbridled horror, we instead hung a left and proceeded to walk the other way. . .

. . . for about two miles, underneath power lines, with nothing but clear sky above of us and swamps to either side.  Thank God it was in the 90s and 100% humidity. . .

Some local wildlife.  I'm not a birdologist, so I'm not sure what we're looking at, here.

Resilient to the last, she refused to put her hair up, despite the fact it was matted to the back of her neck with the heat.  After awhile, she wanted me to carry her, which, based on the circumstances, is entirely believable.

A Zebra.  As we all know, indigenous to Florida.  There was some kind of scavenger hunt the girls were supposed to do along the hike (looking for things that began with different letters of the alphabet, hence the 'Z'ebra), but everyone was too sweaty, tired and miserable to participate, so the high school girl scout more or less just talked to herself.

. . . then we ran into this guy.  About fifteen or twenty feet off to the left of the path, with nothing but grass separating it from a slow-moving, uncoordinated group of six-year-olds.

My plan from the get-go was, if this 7 foot-long beast were to charge, I'd kick the high school-aged girl scout directly into the creature's path, scoop up Alayna, and run like hell.  Fortunately, it didn't come to that, and the alligator just glared at us as we walked by.  Another chaperon - some stupid soccer mom - quipped, "It's probably more scared of us than we are of it."  I seriously doubt it, lady.  I seriously doubt it.

Trees down here look weird.

The Forced March of the Daisies continues. . . all we need to do is replace the power lines with helicopters and  swap the girl scout vests for M-16s and this would look like something out of Vietnam.

See the kid in the blue headscarf?  She bitched the whole time about having to pee. . . so I suggested she pee in the tall grass,  only to watch out for alligators like the one we saw before.  She eventually stopped complaining.

Bringing up the rear.  As usual.

After walking a couple miles under Florida's merciless sun, we veered off to the right down a little two-track trail. . .

This is where the different troops would participate in an arts and crafts activity, drink some water, have a snack, an awkward pee break in the tall grass (I had no hand in helping out with that one), and heading back.  As a welcoming gesture, what could only have been a bunch of teenagers had left a slew of cheap beer cans and empty cigarette packs strewn about the place.  Which was pretty cool of them.

Alayna and her partner-in-crime, Holly, representing the blue-vested 1311s among a bunch of other random kids.

Seriously.  This looks like shit straight out of a Dinosaur book.  What the hell, Florida?!

Making 'binoculars.'  For spotting wildlife, fauna, and fellow Daisy scouts gypsy-squatting among the tall grass after drinking too much apple juice. . .

A bunch of the girls - my eldest included - decided it'd be cool to 'spy' on the other girls taking a piss.  'Cause that's totally appropriate for kids to do.

Exploring

Emulating the L.A.P.D.

Heading back.  Finally.

Funned.  Out.

Peril afoot.

After hours and hours of trudging through swamp country, we once again crossed back onto the bridge leading back into the woods. . . and the shade.

Crossing back over the river on our way out of the woods. . .

Rewards for valor.

To top off this not-quite magical morning, once we had been given the go-ahead to leave, Alayna and I grabbed some Slurpees (a mandatory purchase, at that point), and headed home.  We both wanted nothing more than to change out of our sweaty-ass clothes, take a shower, and then lie on the couch and watch TV all afternoon (before heading over to the Voigts' house for dinner - friggin' plans. . .)

But, NO.  When we got back, Kris was hilt-deep in total chaos - our house was flooded with buyers and their agents, walking around through our house, asking questions, and handing out business cards.  We had no choice but to stand out in the front yard and let people have their tours. . . but I'll talk more about that whole house-selling episode later.

Just rest assured that the last thing I wanted to do after stumbling under the sun for three hours was stand in my front yard and wait for people to leave my house.

Under the sun.

- Brian

Papa, Gators, and a Lion-less Superbowl

Hi America,

So my Dad flew down on Friday for a short weekend visit.  Cindy would be later traveling to Tennessee with some friends, so Papa was visiting Nana-less this time around.  We didn't have much on the agenda for this weekend, besides watching some football game between two teams I could've cared less about.  Eventually Dad and I cleaned and hooked up a new turntable, we took the kids over to Gatorland to stare at animals that could easily digest them in a matter of seconds, and ultimately forced ourselves to sit through the most boring Superbowl in human history.

Behold a shit-load of pictures - enjoy:

Papa, gettin' his hair did. . .

Both kids are fascinated with Papa's white hair

Opening some Valentine's Day gift bags from Papa and Nana

Dad and Cindy bought the girls some miniature Lego sets for their Valentine's bags, which, to me, was awesome - I love Legos more than I love most people.

Papa and Abby having an in-depth conversation about lip gloss. . .

Watson received a rope animal of some sort.  He's still working on the rope part, but the plush face was decimated in a matter of minutes.

Abby and her beach Lego set.

I think Alayna had a soccer set or something along those lines. . .

Abby made the mistake of leaving her chocolates out and uncovered on the recliner.  Watson's going to be shitting himself like crazy for the next few days.

Taking Watson out for a walk, trying out a new harness from my brother, Chris. . .

Homeboy here was hanging outside the girls' bedroom for quite awhile on Saturday.

Ready for an outing (please ignore the grass - I've been meaning to get around to that for some time.)

These are for dogs.  Seriously.  Once a month we take Watson to the Purple Pooch in order to get his nails trimmed.  It's a full-service pet salon and bakery, and caters to the upper-class, dog-spoiling soccer moms and bored, affluent housewives of Hunter's Creek.  They do a good job, though.

I don't care if these are for dogs.  I would eat the hell out of this.

After running some errands, Dad helped me re-calibrate and clean up a turntable I had sitting around that I had received a few months ago.  I thought it was a lower-end model, but as it turns out it's actually a really good turntable, and worth a few hundred bucks.

The turntable was so good, in fact, that we swapped out my Thorens and hooked up the new Sony. . .

This thing sounds AWESOME.

Alayna hung out with us in the Study while we played a few records and adjusted the sound on the receiver.  I can think of much shittier ways to spend an afternoon.

The next morning, we got the girls around and drove them over to Gatorland (which is practically within walking distance of our house.)

Not 4.6, not 4.8.  The Speed Limit in the Gatorland parking lot is 4.7.  Ye be warned.

Abby was afraid of this large alligator mouth, as she thought it was real.  Because cement alligators with buildings for bodies evidently haunts her dreams.

Noted.

They don't let you swim at Gatorland.

These guys are all over the place throughout the park, and are so used to people that I'm pretty sure you could walk up and pet the damn things.

That bird is brave as hell.

Alayna looks like she's posing for the cover of a Beastie Boys album right here.

Some hillbillies working up the crowd (unfortunately, they were not eaten by gators while doing so.)

Once the kids saw the playground, they could've cared less for alligators. . .

Of all the crazy animals one can see at Gatorland, Alayna was most impressed with the common lizards you can find all over one's own backyard.

We didn't pack our suits.  The kids were pissed.

I really, really want one of these chairs. . .

Land tortoises - these guys are each over 100 hundred years old. . .

I was about a foot away from this bird - what keeps them from flying all over the place and biting people's fingers off is beyond me - Fezzig definitely wouldve done so.

Posing with Chester - the alligator that hate dozens of dogs in the Tampa area before being captured and relocated to Gatorland.

Chester's such an aggressive asshole that he has to be housed in his own pen, or else he'll attack and kill the other alligators throughout the park.

No colored gators allowed.

These guys are apparently NOT albinos.

They, too, can't be housed among the normal alligators, but it's more for their protection - normal alligators would flip out and murder the bejesus out of these white ones.  Because they're racist.

WHITE POWER

We have awesome, awesome luck.

Papa bought a bunch of goat food (food pellets in ice cream cones) for the girls to hand out to the animals. . .

We spent quite a lot of time feeding goats - the kids are big into petting zoos. 

This is the ugliest goat I've ever seen.

Abby, flipping the hell out.

Feeding goats through cracks in the fence. Why this is so hilarious, I don't know.

Massaging some gator skin.

You can get eerily close to the animals at Gatorland.  Needless to say I watched our disaster-prone offspring like a hawk throughout the duration of our stay.

In the bird room. . . or whatever the hell it's called.  Basically a large, screened in room you can go in and pick up parakeets on a stick.

Abby makes a friend.

The girls always wanted the blue or white ones. . .

Kris and a Conure (however that's spelled.)

Alayna was a little freaked out by the size of this one (even though he was slightly bigger than Fezzig was.)

After the Parakeet sanctuary, or whatever it is, we walked over to see some local redneck 'wrastle a 'gator.'

Been there, done that. 

The gator fell asleep. . . or something.  I don't know, I forget.

In the dining pavilion, waiting for Papa and Kris to make with the lunch. . .

This area was a pretty decent eating area - wider and more open than a lot of the Disney park eateries (of course, Gatorland has about 2% of the foot traffic the Disney parks do, but still. . .)

I love people watching. . .

Alayna was on the verge of passing out while waiting for lunch. . . it had been a long morning.

Chowing down on fried food (Yours Truly was fortunate enough to nab a Daddy's Coffee.)

A couple cranes, standing around waiting to order from the cafe.

(This isn't real.)

A bunch of lazy assholes.

Abby steals one last peek at the gators on our way out of the park. . .

Family portraits are always a disaster with this family.

Back in the gator's mouth.

Alayna had begun to throw a tantrum as we left the park - both kids needed some serious naps after a few hours of walking around in the sun, checking out deadly reptiles.

Two teams I couldn't have cared less about.

Yes, I'm that guy.  I don't care.

We made a shitload of snacks for the big game.  Surprisingly enough, the girls would NOT eat the pizza pockets (whatever the heck those are.)  Doesn't every kid love those things?!

SPORTS 

 - Brian