I could write a book...

It was fantastic. The ports were great. The food... well, I gained 5 pounds. So, where do I begin? There is so much to say that my mind has formed a back log of wonderfully sludgy thoughts. Here's one.

I like Disney. Always have. Adults that love Disney seem to be missing something in their life. Like a father. Or a true sense of reality. Over 400 of the 1500 passengers on our cruise were Disney Bloggers. They constantly wore a lanyard that displayed their log-in ID. Such as Tinker22 or MickeyMe2U. Some were overweight, most were men, all were weird. In that "Chester" sort-of way. On "Pirates of the Caribbean" night, I spotted no less than 10 men in full pirate regalia. Costumes that they put in a suitcase; highly coveted suitcase space that the average man might covet for oh... I don't know.... shoes or dress pants?

The stateroom doors on the ship are metal. Previous Hard Core Disney Cruisers know this and fill their suitcases with door decorations. There were several occasions when I was returning from dinner (half-crocked) that I had to remind myself I wasn't in my dorm hall. These weren't sorority decorated doors. I was on a Disney cruise.

For a week, I stared at our neighbors door and looked at the name tags. The names were something like "Barbara" "Lori" and for certain, "Disneyana".

"Is that a joke?" I asked Scot. Upon further examination of the cabin's self-made fabric mailbox, I could tell the room was inhabited by a family. Two women with hyphenated names, and a daughter. Was the daughter Disneyana? And was that really her name?

My family had a sick compulsion to turn door magnets upside-down, switch mailboxes out, and commit other mischievous acts which would be looked down upon by the Disney Cult. I blame my brother for this; he started it. One evening the girls and I returned to the room before Scot, who had the key. My kids started turning "Disneyana's" magnets around. I stifled a giggle and told the kids to knock it off. Suddenly, the neighbors door flew upon; we were caught with Jasmine in our hot little hands.

"Hi!" I managed in a pleading jovial voice.
"The kids and I were just enjoying your door," I stammered.
"Hello" the neighbor said curtly.
I was not getting out of this unscathed. At this point I had nothing to lose with her, and and could only fulfill my curiosity.
"Is there someone in your room/ really/ named "Disneyana?" I asked.
"Yes, that's my daughter. We named her Disneyana," she said.
"Woooowwww... won ..won...wonderful, " I stammered.

With that, I turned on my heel and made for the elevators. I had been caught. But she had named her daughter Disneyana. Surely a call to CPS could have been in order.
We were even.