And I didn't even have to win the Super Bowl

I love travel. I love everything about it. I love deciding what to wear and making lists and packing and the way the buildup to a trip lets me use my own special brand of OCD efficiency to great advantage. I love staying in hotels and eating in restaurants and seeing new places. I even like that a vacation makes you appreciate coming home. So you can imagine how excited I am about a whirlwind trip we're taking next weekend, to a little place you may have heard of called DISNEYLAND! We have literally been counting down to this trip for the last year (well, the kids and I have -- McGyver is mostly just humoring us) and I'm like a kid on Christmas Eve, I'm so amped up about it. I lie in bed at night and try to go to sleep, but then I think about driving over the last rise after Santa Clarita and seeing all of Los Angeles spread out in front of us. I think of sitting around the table at our favorite restaurant, chowing down on all the warm, freshly-made tortillas we can eat. I think about sitting on that one bench in an out-of-the-way corridor in the Getty Center museum where you can watch the traffic rushing by on the freeway below and the mansions scattered on the hills just across. I think about walking down Main Street in Disneyland first thing in the morning with Sleeping Beauty's castle looming up ahead, and about singing "yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me" until we're hoarse. All those little mental snapshots that you keep when you travel, and that say "I am here, right now. I am present in this great moment and I'm going to savor it." We're going to play and laugh and eat and shop and ride and scream and wring every last drop of enjoyment out of each day.

I can't wait!