Spring Fever

As I mentioned yesterday, it's not winter that I dislike so much in New England -- it's the dreaded mud season, the months of March and April. I detest this time of year so much, that in a recent moment of weakness I agreed to go on an extended-family trip to Orlando, the amusement park capital of the world (according to Frommer's), just to go someplace else. Note that I do not refer to this as a "vacation"; I learned the hard way two years ago that traveling with small children, even to a beautiful and tranquil destination in the south of France, is no vacation no matter how you try to dress it up.

Yes, that is how desperate I am to get out of New England during mud season. I am willing to deal with a small willful child on an airplane, spend three days standing in horrific lines, be surrounded by hoards of other sun-blocked tourists (as well as living, breathing -- and a bit creepy I might add -- Disney characters), belly up to mediocre buffet after mediocre buffet, and subject myself to such sensory overload that it'll no doubt take until mosquito season to recover.

The madness has begun, but while I still have some of my wits about me, I've been studying the Frommer's guide and planning my attack on Orlando. I'm beginning to think I'd even sell my soul to breathe some warm tropical amusement park air for a few days.