Greetings my lovelies,

September 24, 2026

There are perfectly respectable ways to spend a Thursday. Answering emails. Folding laundry. Deciding what to make for dinner while standing in front of an open refrigerator.

And then there is spending it at Disneyland with your sister and her fiance, screaming on the Matterhorn, hugging Daisy Duck, and discovering that Pirates of the Caribbean apparently includes an unexpected rinse cycle.

I chose that Thursday.

This was my first trip to California, and everything already felt bigger than the version I had carried around in my imagination. The mountains, the palm trees, the places I recognized from television—all of it had suddenly become somewhere I could actually stand. Now I was going to Disneyland with Vickie and Roy, adding another real experience to a lifetime of seeing things through a screen.

I’m fifty-six years old. I can handle responsibilities, hold down a job, and make reasonably sensible decisions.

Apparently, I can also take 186 pictures at Disneyland.

The Camera Was Busy Before We Even Got Inside

The enormous black-and-red Mickey sculpture near the parking entrance deserved a picture. Naturally, it also deserved a picture with me in front of it. Those glossy round ears against the blue sky were enough to get me started, and once I started, restraint was apparently somebody else’s problem.

There were pictures of me and Vickie, pictures with Roy, and pictures of the three of us together. We were barely into the day, and I was already collecting evidence that yes, this was happening: I was in California, with my sister, on my way into Disneyland.

That part mattered as much as where we were going. After years of knowing each other through messages, calls, and the distance between our homes, Vickie and I were finally sitting beside each other. We could lean together for a photograph instead of trying to coordinate our lives across state lines. A little video of us laughing cheek to cheek says more about that feeling than any perfectly posed picture could.

Then came the entrance, the flowers, the railroad station, and Main Street unfolding ahead of us.

Disneyland had dressed for Halloween, and I was very much here for it. Mickey and Minnie appeared in bright floral displays, pumpkins decorated the storefronts, and orange accents kept catching my eye against the buildings. Even the lamp decorations demanded attention. I would look at one thing, turn my head, and find three more things I wanted to photograph.

There was City Hall, the cinema, Disney Clothiers, and Crystal Arts. A horse-drawn streetcar brought another layer of movement to the street, while the marching band added that bright burst of brass that makes you look up and pay attention. Between the music, the people, and the elaborate storefronts, Main Street gave me plenty to absorb before we ever reached a ride.

I wanted to keep looking. I also wanted to keep going.

A difficult situation for a woman with a camera.

A Castle, a Pumpkin & Absolutely No Dignity at the Sword

Seeing Sleeping Beauty Castle in person gave me another one of those moments I kept having on this trip: recognition followed by the realization that I was actually there.

The castle rose behind the flowers and the Partners statue of Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse. I took pictures of the statue, pictures of the castle, and pictures with the castle. There is one of me seated with that familiar scene behind me, and I love having a photograph that places me right inside a view I had known for so long.

Around us were smaller details that could easily have disappeared in the rush toward the next attraction. Bronze figures of Chip and Dale, Donald, and Minnie. Character pumpkins. Decorative corners. Disneyland was making a strong case for moving slowly, even while the rides were making a strong case for moving faster.

Fantasyland only made that worse. The buildings, the storybook details, the Sleeping Beauty displays, and that enormous whale entrance gave me more reasons to stop. We rode Snow White, and I photographed Pinocchio’s entrance and a scene inside. Familiar stories had become places we could move through, with Vickie beside me and Roy there to share the day.

Then I found the Sword in the Stone.

Of course I tried to pull it out.

You cannot put a legendary sword in front of me and expect me to walk past without at least investigating whether I have recently become royalty. There are photographs of the attempt, because apparently my family believed this moment required documentation.

The sword stayed put. My royal career remains pending.

We also stopped at the giant Mickey pumpkin for pictures, including some of me and Vickie together. I love those close-ups of us. We were surrounded by elaborate scenery, but two sisters squeezing into the same frame could still become my favorite part of a photograph.

And then there was Daisy.

I got my picture with her, and I got a hug. There is something wonderfully ridiculous about being a grown woman who is delighted to hug a Disney duck, and I have no intention of making it sound more sophisticated than it was.

I was delighted.

The Matterhorn Heard From Us

The Matterhorn had already earned a photograph before we rode it. That jagged mountain stood out against the sky, looking dramatic and inviting enough to encourage questionable confidence.

We got on.

We screamed.

We laughed.

Sometimes those were practically the same sound.

There is a particular kind of laughter that happens when a ride takes over and you stop trying to compose yourself. Whatever expression you planned to have is gone. Whatever graceful little reaction you imagined is gone. You are moving, your body has opinions, and those opinions are coming out at full volume.

That was us on the Matterhorn.

It was such a good part of the day because I was completely caught up in it. I wasn’t thinking ahead to what needed to happen later. I was riding with my sister, making noise, and laughing hard enough that the laughing became part of the ride.

We had Jungle Cruise in the mix, too, adding its leafy setting and boat adventure to a day that kept changing around us. We could go from a storybook village to a mountain to a jungle, all while still somehow needing another picture and eventually another snack.

Disneyland asks a lot of a person’s attention.

I was happy to give it mine.

Pirates of the Caribbean Had Other Plans for My Pants

Pirates was a favorite.

I loved slipping into that dark world, where the daylight gave way to deep shadows and illuminated scenes. From the boat, there was always another detail to look toward: a face, a prop, a bit of treasure, something emerging out of the darkness as we moved along.

I even got a picture of Jack Sparrow reclining in an ornate chair with a goblet in his hand. He looked thoroughly comfortable with his circumstances.

I, meanwhile, ended up with a soaked butt.

Somewhere in the experience, Pirates decided I needed a souvenir that would travel around the park with me in my clothing. I had come prepared to enjoy the atmosphere. I had apparently underestimated how personally the water would involve itself.

So yes, I loved Pirates of the Caribbean. Yes, I would remember the scenes and the feeling of moving through them.

I would also remember my wet ass.

Both things can be true.

Beignets, Pumpkin & a Serious Research Project

There comes a point in a Disneyland day when you need to sit down and eat something wonderful. We took that responsibility seriously.

There were beignets. There was a Matterhorn Puff. And there was the dessert I initially described as “pumpkin something or another,” because I was busy enjoying myself and had not yet established its full credentials.

Its name was Enchanted Pumpkin Stuff.

Honestly, that name suited my original level of understanding pretty well.

It had a shortbread cookie with a mini pumpkin pie inside, topped with pumpkin mousse, sprinkles, silver stars, a chocolate branch, and leaves. The mousse rose in a tall swirl, with the chocolate branch poking out of the top and green decoration trailing down the sides. It looked like someone had given a pumpkin dessert permission to be dramatic.

I took pictures from more than one angle. A creation like that deserves its little photo shoot before anyone starts dismantling it with a fork.

Then there was the eating: the creamy pumpkin mousse, the pie tucked inside, and the firmer cookie underneath. Different textures, plenty of pumpkin, and an appearance that was almost too cute to disturb.

Almost.

We enjoyed the Red Rose Taverne surroundings, too—the wood beams, the chandelier, the Belle mural, and all those details carrying the story into the room. Even a food stop gave me something else to look at. Apparently, Disneyland does not believe in allowing your eyes to take a lunch break.

The beignets and the pumpkin dessert ended up in a tie for me. I tried to pick a favorite, but those are two very persuasive arguments on a plate.

One is a beignet. The other has a miniature pumpkin pie hiding inside it.

You see my problem.

Haunted Mansion, Dressed for the Occasion

By the time we reached Haunted Mansion, we already had a day full of pictures, laughter, rides, and sweets behind us. Now we were headed into another place I was excited to see, and it had brought out the Halloween decorations in considerable style.

The entrance alone gave me plenty to photograph. Pumpkins, black garlands, and the Halloween-and-Christmas collision of Haunted Mansion Holiday framed the approach. The decorated white hearse deserved pictures from different angles, and I stopped for a lamp wrapped in dark garland with a black-and-white striped bow and bright berries.

I loved those smaller details. They were the sort of things I might have missed if I were only looking for the biggest scene, yet they helped build the whole atmosphere. Even before going inside, we were surrounded by something theatrical, spooky, and playful.

There is also a selfie of me in purple Haunted Mansion ears. Clearly, I was participating appropriately.

Inside, the darkness made the colors feel even brighter. Blue and green light glowed against the black, while orange decorations and warm lamps brought other parts of the scene forward. The Nightmare Before Christmas displays were crowded with characters and oversized presents, with a glowing moon above them.

My photographs caught some of that contrast: all that darkness surrounding something vivid enough to pull your eye straight toward it. There were cobwebs and ornate fixtures, strange faces and festive shapes. I kept trying to take in the whole scene, then noticing another piece of it.

The changing portrait fascinated me, too. I took pictures and a video because one still image couldn’t hold what it was doing. Her expression and appearance shifted while the frame and richly patterned surroundings stayed in place.

That was part of what I enjoyed throughout Disneyland. Something would look complete at first glance, and then I would spend another moment with it and discover more.

What I Brought Home in Those 186 Pictures

Looking through the photos now, I can see how much we fitted into that Thursday. Main Street, the castle, Fantasyland, the Matterhorn, Jungle Cruise, Pirates, Haunted Mansion, character pictures, decorative details, and desserts that absolutely earned their place in the record.

But the pictures I keep returning to aren’t only the scenery.

They are me and Vickie leaning together. Roy in the frame with us. The sword-pulling attempt. Daisy’s hug. Our faces in front of that enormous pumpkin. Little bits of the day that bring back how it felt to be there together.

For years, Vickie and I had shared so much from a distance. Now we had this whole ridiculous, colorful, noisy day that belonged to both of us. We could remember the same ride, the same laugh, the same moment, because we had been right beside each other when it happened.

I’m glad I took the pictures. All 186 of them, apparently. Some caught grand views, some caught tiny decorations, and some caught us simply enjoying ourselves.

They also leave room for the parts a photograph can’t fully explain: the sound of us screaming on the Matterhorn, the changing portrait, the pumpkin mousse, and the deeply unglamorous sensation of walking around after Pirates had soaked my pants.

My first Disneyland day gave me a castle in the background, my sister beside me, and plenty to laugh about afterward.

Next time, I may bring a dry pair of shorts.