Prologue

There are very few things that inspire most people to launch themselves out of bed the second the alarm rings. Remember when you would set your alarm early just to get up and start playing with that new toy again? Or the 6 a.m. cartoons that had you bright-eyed before the birds opened their beaks for the day? Yeah, and I bet there isn’t much now that inspires the same glee at the idea of waking around the time McDonald’s started serving breakfast.

Now why did a die-hard night owl kid happily fling herself out of bed at the first earliest time I could do so without causing a Mommy Meltdown over the Godforsaken hour of the day? Toys, that’s what, and all of their half-hour long commercials called cartoons. I held no prejudice when it came to playthings; whether it was a “boy toy” or a “girl toy,” if it caught my eye it was coming home with me to lead a life of shopping trips with the Ninja Turtles and My Little Ponies.

Somewhere along the way, that family of mixed toys began communicating with us via a method my Dad called “Pretend They’re Talking.” Little known facts, such as the Hugga Bunch’s hatred of honey-flavored candy and their propensity to flatulence, began to emerge. Barbies played dress-up with Skeletor. Rose Petal fought the paranormal with Egon. Laughs were had. Pants were wet. And I never forgot the day Dad gently asked if maybe I was getting a bit too old for pretend. I think that’s about the time getting up early stopped having a reason to be so fun.

Well, it’s been over twenty years since then and my imagination didn’t shut off when the world said it should, so now what? This blog answers that question.

By the way, I am no rock star with the camera and don't want to be, so expect plenty of flaws along the way in that department.