So apparently, someone (perhaps Father Time) played a joke on Mother Nature this week and put her calendar back a month. She now thinks it’s deep summer and the temperatures on the West Coast have been blazing since the weekend. I thought last Saturday was bad at the Boot Camp Challenge — but Monday, the high in SoCal flew to 114 degrees Fahrenheit. Tuesday was supposed to cool down, and did so with a high of 107. Today, the high dropped to 95, which is much more comfortable, if we ignore the fact that it’s a day and a half from October. Old Man Winter gets to procrastinate more, and I also found a way to benefit.

Mr. W and I went to Disneyland after work yesterday and because it’d been so hot, nobody wanted to attempt an outdoor amusement park outing, so the usually crowded Disneyland and California Adventure were ghost towns. We discovered nooks and crannies and storefronts and other stuff that we’d never known existed. Stuff like…did you know Disneyland has a PETTING ZOO?

‘Scuse the unflattering photo, but I was being licked to death by overly friendly baby goats. They’re sooo cute! They must’ve had a good life, because they weren’t afraid of people at all. They came right up to me and nuzzled me. Actually, one nuzzled me as another licked my leg and yet a third tasted my purse.

Have you ever wondered what my Dodo would look like if he were a goat?

I can’t eat goat anymore, not that I was an avid goat eater to begin with. As I petted the head of a 4-month old pygmy goat, I whispered reassuringly to him, “I always root for you when I watch National Geographic Animals in the Wild Specials.” I want a pygmy goat. It’s amazing how they jump right up onto those barrels. I can’t do that, and I’ve been doing Insanity’s plyometrics for WEEKS. I wonder what fitness program the goats are on.
As we were leaving, the caretaker of the animals said that if we wait on the bench, they’re about to do a “running of the goats,” when all the goats go from the petting corral back to their homes for the night (apparently a staging area behind a wooden gate). So we sat, and soon, this little herd of goats, collars bells jangling, ran in a group in a beeline for what they knew to be home. They were followed by the one larger goat, a mountain goat, and then the sheep. Sooo cute!

We rode a few rides after waiting in very short lines, wandered around a bit, shared a candied apple, then had dinner at The Jazz Kitchen, a N’awlins style restaurant at Downtown Disney. Enjoying the atmosphere and anticipating great food, I turned to Mr. W and observed that we live like we’re on vacation on the time. He seemed plenty pleased with that arrangement. A live pianist entertainer, a filet mignon muffaletta, 2 mint juleps, a triple sampler of jambalaya/seafood gumbo/potato cheese soups, Andouille crusted yellowtail, 4 beignets, and a chicory coffee later, Mr. W and I set out for home as a fat, dumb and happy couple. I fell asleep in the car on the way home. I remember waking up as he pulled into the driveway, turning to him and saying, “I am pooped,” and next thing I know I woke up in bed. Perpendicular at the foot of it. I think this may have been the first time I went to bed before the hubby since we’d lived in this house.