So the girls and I bid a fond adieu to the beach for the day and went to see the final Harry Potter movie. I’ve seen every frame of Potter on screen, but I’ve never read the books. My favorite of the whole series is number two for some reason, but these last two were really quite good.

The kids didn’t finish their candy while at the theater, so a box of gummy watermelons and Raisinettes went into my purse. We then had an early dinner with my father and his wife, got back into the car and headed to Daytona Beach for the evening.

My sister was playing with her band at a local restaurant, but it was still early, so we took the kids to the amusements on the boardwalk to play some arcade games and ride the go-karts. My youngest had been jabbering all day about the go-karts; she was DYING to get behind the wheel of one of those speed demons, and I for one wanted to shut her up.

It was great watching them cruise around the track… unfortunately for the other riders my youngest was out in front and was, for lack of a better word, the pace car. She was traveling at a modest clip and nobody could seem to pass her. I guess I should feel bad for the other riders, but everyone got out safe and sound which is what matters in my book.

After their first ride, we went to play some ski-ball and other arcade games. I noticed I had a smudge of chocolate on my white shirt which really annoyed me because I had just finished a spaghetti dinner where I managed to miraculously not get one drop of marinara sauce on me. Trying to figure out where the smudge came from lead me to root around my purse.

It was then I discovered the empty box of Raisinettes.  Empty. And then I see them. Sitting at the bottom of my purse, like little movie theater turds, were no less than 30 half melted raisinettes. Enter the expletive of your choice here.

I summoned my girls for help – we took everything out of my bag, checked them for chocolate and laid them on  stools in front of the slot machines. I then had to scoop out the melted raisins and wanted to wipe it out good with some paper towels. As luck would have it, the bathrooms had no paper towels – just the air blowers. Grrrr! I managed to get a “Visit Daytona!” brochure to line the bottom of my purse with.

I had less pep in my step after that. I was hot, chocolatey, sweaty and ready to go. I sat miserably watching my kids go round and round the go-kart track one last time for the night and wondered where I can get myself a new purse.

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