if your heart is in your dream

We went to Disneyland. And it was such the best. Which deserves a lot more words, I know, but I'm usually at a loss when it comes to this place. They've said all there is to say, okay? Happiest. Place. On Earth.

So I'm a total Disney purist--and maybe even a snob--but I did take a try at California Adventure this time around and would give it a sound A based entirely on set and design. We'll have to skip the ride review, however, as my one go at Tower of Terror more or less destroyed any happy thoughts I may have had beforehand. As the photo below documents, I spent most of that freefall screaming at Liv to make it stop (it didn't). Seriously, my feet jumped out of my shoes on that thing. And they were ankle-strap sandals.

Anyway, I lived. But only after a few deep breaths and a round of kiwi tea. Yes, I'm all wimp. And no, I did not go on the rollercoaster, okay?

But I did see the HSM noon-time extravaganza. Twice. Which totally justified Liv missing her actual graduation.

Having had enough excitement for one morning, Liv and I hopped backed over to Disneyland for the classic (and only true) experience. This involved checking off nearly every ride in the park, a moment of panic in deciding which color Dumbo to ride, model shots on the carousel, and quite simply the most humongous sheep we've ever seen. See also: several classic people-watching commentaries, a particularly lovely Aussie boy in line for Pinocchio, the beehives on the Winnie-the-Pooh ride rock like little cradles through heffalump-and-woozle rooms and maybe I could stay there all day.

{ I voted turquoise. Liv said pink. So we chose yellow. }

{ a more pensive pose as horses slowed to a steady trot }

{ seriously. shouldn't this be a horse? or at least a pony? }

But the true magic began as the day came to an end--the launch of Disneyland's newest summer fireworks show titled, ever-so aptly, Magical. Gathered there on Main Street, a day of childhood come to its close, the fireworks set to orchestral crescendoes . . . and then Dumbo has to swing out about the castle to the tune of Baby Mine and well, so maybe we cried. Or just teared up. A little bit. Barely. And afterwards there was confetti in Mickey shapes and fairy dust like we could fly, too, so really--who could blame us?

{ huzzah. }