Just Keep Spinning

I was trying to decide what to write about when I realized that I could actually write about our weekend since it wasn't as mundane as it usually is.  Not that it's boring around here because the laundry alone can keep me busy for hours some Saturdays.  It's just that laundry and feeding old folks isn't very exciting to the rest of the blogging world.  I have no big cattle ranch or cooking show to pontificate about, no big renovation projects to dazzle you with or any salacious gossip to share.  Unless you count the fact that one of our elderly neighbors failed to make it home from her boyfriend's house in time one morning to take her granddaughter to school.  And that juicy tidbit is at least five years old, so see?  Nothing exciting here.  As a side note, we did take particular pleasure in that incident as that neighbor, throughout the years, has ALWAYS been the one to point out the more raucous goings on of EVERYBODY else.  A bigger person would not have laughed about that.  But I'm not a bigger person.  And apparently, neither is anyone else in the Hula-gen household, even Papa T.  Anyway, despite a lack of scandalous news, it was a little more lively around here than usual this past weekend.

We spent Saturday at an amusement park about three hours from here.  We stayed from open to close, and every time I do that, I start to wonder if I've lost my mind.  In my youth, I could spin on a Tilt-A-Whirl all day long, bake in the sun and eat six hot dogs without a problem.  Now, I get nauseous just looking at anything that twirls.  Over time, I have developed a motion sickness issue, and I have to be careful about the rides I choose, especially when it's really hot since I like to pass out if I get too hot.  Since I'm usually with a bunch of kids when I go to these places, I sometimes get roped into riding the wild stuff.  It's peer pressure, really.  Pure and simple.  Frankly, I don't like to admit that a ride scares me.  I'm the one on the back of the roller coaster with closed eyes and gritted teeth, pretending to enjoy having my stomach fly out of my rectum.  In the past couple of years, I've come to terms with the fact that I don't have to prove anything to anybody, and that I can float all day in the water park on the Lazy River if I want to without ever jumping on anything that spins, jerks or zooms.  Teen Angel can bungee jump all day if she likes.  I do not. 

I love a good water coaster though, and this park has two outstanding water coasters.  Hubby and I enjoyed those, along with some other water slides.  We also floated.  A lot.  Because you know what?  No one can call us on the phone while we're floating.  We can relax without worrying that anybody is going to need us for anything anytime soon, because even if they do, they can't reach us without a whole lot of effort.  That doesn't happen too often at our house.  Also, my stomach doesn't fly out my rectum on the Lazy River. 

Teen Angel took a friend along Saturday, so they rode roller coasters all day, while Hubby and I leisurely baked in the sun.  And sunny it was.  It was near 90 degrees.  In fact, Hubby got a little sick from the sun near the end of the day, and a girl passed out from the heat while she was in line behind us at one of the water coasters.  Such a shame, too because she had waited nearly an hour in that line and had made it almost to the front when she dropped to the ground.  How annoying would that be to wait all that time and miss the ride?   

It was a day for injuries.  About two hours after that we saw a boy with a nosebleed, and it was a gusher.  He looked like someone had taken a hatchet to his face.  We saw another girl in a wheel chair with a freshly wounded foot, and when we stopped into the First Aid station for a band-aid for my foot, they had three patients in there.  Uh, note to self...don't wear new flip flops to the amusement park. You might get a blister.

A trip to the water park always reminds me of two things; first of all, Americans are just getting fat.  Because one of the water rides has an 800 pound per tube limit, each tube party had to step on a big floor scale to make sure the group was small enough for the ride.  If you were under the limit, a green light came on.  If not, it turned red.  How sad is it that we have to do that?  Also, I'm amazed at some of the swimsuits people will wear in a public venue like that.  I'm no prude, but I know when to cover my hoo hoo.  In my humble yet noisy opinion, the water park is no place to show off your Brazilian wax. 

Two, I am one of only three people in the Midwest without a tattoo.  By the way, is it really trendy right now to get a big ol' cross tattooed on your left shoulder?  Is that a fad in tattoo circles right now because I saw a jillion of them this weekend, all very similar and all in the same location.   I'm thinking I missed this on the Huffington Post cultural section.  A local longtime tattoo artist says tattoo trends come and go.  The 80's were really big for Pooh Bear and Eyeore, so if you see a woman with Pooh Bear on her back, you can pretty much guess when she went to Florida on spring break.  A woman in line for one of the water coasters with a huge Insane Clown Posse tattoo all over her left arm is the inspiration for a regular segment I'm think of adding to this blog, called "What the heck?!"  ICP on your body forever?  Really??  Somewhere out there, a mother is taking Zanax over that.

We made it through the day with no major injuries or misadventures.  We did have a really long wait at one of the water coasters because of a breakdown of the ride.  People are such sheep.  We all stood there and wondered out loud about the safety of the brand new ride as we watched them unload the riders, walk them down the safety ramps and use a crane to remove the problem raft off the track.  As soon as they started it again, we all clapped and cheered and proceeded to get on the ride.  Not one person got out of line.  Is that faith by ignorance?  Or just ignorance?  I told myself, "Self, we are the people who drank Jim Jones' Kool-Aid."

It was a good day, topped off by a meal at Denny's before we hit the road home.  I haven't eaten at a Denny's in years, but I can attest to the tastiness of the spaghetti and meatballs at their Dale, Indiana restaurant.  Clean bathrooms?  Not so much.  Teen Angel's buddy, who has been a poor college student this past year, lapped up her roast beef like it was steak and lobster.  I haven't enjoyed paying for someone's meal that much in a long time.  

We got home kind of late, and it was all I could do to stay awake on the ride home, yet another reminder of how much the spring in my spring chicken has sprung.  It was a nice family day, though, worth the sun and the wait and the water wrinkles.  We don't get a lot of those these day because of the time involved in taking care of Papa T.  We'd like to go again, but I'm thinking we need to wait a little while.  I need to build up the tilt in my whirl first.