My husband understands my commitment to daily blogging so well, he woke me up from my "nap" on the couch to make sure I wrote before midnight. What a guy.
Last Wednesday marked the twenty-second anniversary of our first "date." We'd met only a few weeks (was it days?) before at a party, and he'd invited me to join him and a Small Rebel Force - uh, I mean, group of High School friends - for the opening of Return of the Jedi. He'd shown up at my house (in this movie-trip carpool) with a gift for me - a black t-shirt with the original Star Wars logo silkscreened in white on it. He had a matching shirt. He'd made them both himself. Oh. My. Goodness. We were such geeks.
For ten years after we met, we went to Science Fiction conventions at least once a year. The "con" we were guaranteed to attend was BayCon, which takes place every Memorial Day Weekend at the Red Lion Inn in San Jose. To this day, I have residual panic attacks around Memorial Day weekend because I feel like I'm missing something, like I'm really late in packing my suitcase full of costumes and science fiction paperbacks and Pop Tarts and Cokes. It's all so very sordid.
But hey! Time (and children) changes everything. I haven't even seen the new movie yet, and I don't know when I'll see it. I don't really have enough fabric to make any costumes in honor of any characters. I just wrote a long piece about what I miss and what I don't miss about cons, but I don't even feel strongly enough about that to include it in this blog post. And just because D. has already memorized the soundtrack to Revenge of the Sith doesn't mean he'll be pulling out the styrene to hand-craft a half-dollar sized Millennium Falcon. Again. Any time soon.
Happy Anniversary, hon.
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