ComicBones

Yesterday was an extremely exciting day as I went to ComicCon with our grandson. Grandpa dropped us off at the trolley at 7:10 and we took the special events trolley to the Convention Center. We arrived at 8:02 and I had the bright idea to go to the Hyatt and get in line to buy tickets for next year since I read that if you attend this year, you could do that between 8 and 11(it was an almost impossible task to secure tickets for even one day this year). When we got there, the line stretched all the way past Seaport Village. Somehow :-) we were able to secure a different spot and were able to enter the cavernous ballroom. I was told that the people in front had been there since 3 a.m. There were at least 900 people in that room, but the organization was amazing. There were fifteen double rows and we were in row #9.
At 9 a.m. they announced that those in the room would be assured of tickets, but they were closing the doors and noone else could enter.

We never moved as they called one row at a time (rows were separated by chains). Our grandson got antsy because he thought we would get to ComicCon late (it started at 9:30). All of the old timers (those who were there for the 14th time) assured him that he wouldn't miss anything. Surprisingly, it took two hours and by 10:15 we had our four day passes for next year. It was well worth the wait!

We then walked to the Convention Center (our grandson said he was tired from walking--hey, I thought I was the "old one"), but we managed. I cannot even describe the inside. It was overwhelmingly exciting. Although he is very quiet, I could see the joy in his eyes. Games, costumes, free stuff, Hulk Hogan, people,the works. We went to one workshop (2000 people) related to one of his favorite games--Street Fighter. It was fun! In the midst of all of the people, I saw four people I knew.

Our grandson's impression of the crowd was that it didn't match that of the inauguration. :-)

At around 3:30, we left--our grandson was tired and besides we had seen practically everything. We took the trolley back to Qualcomm and grandpa was there to fetch us--he is such a team player. :-) Now I know why you need a four day pass--so that you can do a little each day.

Today, every bone in my body aches. I probably need a ComicChiropractor for these ComicBones!

Tables and Drums

We returned from Atlanta yesterday with our thirteen year old grandson. As soon as he walked into the house, he asked, "Where is my table?" We bought this little table when he was young and before the grands come, we put a blanket on the floor and the table on top of the blanket. It is where they used to eat and watch television. We have used the table for three grands and we had it up when our four year old granddaughter was here. Before we left, we moved the table and the toy basket upstairs since we knew he wouldn't need either when he came.

He then went upstairs into our closet and asked "Where is grandpa's drum?" This is a conga drum, (grandpa was/is quite a drummer) and had I moved it to a spot in the closet where it can't be seen or can't fall on anyone. He promptly moved it to its old spot, stood it up and there it stands.

As I was telling someone this story last night (had to catch up on my phone calls :-), I was told that we have created memories for our grands. How cool is that? I was then reminded of a little stool my great grandmother had that my sister and I always sat on when we went to her house. It was a small wooden stool and we each had one. I can still see that stool in my mind. I wish I had kept it.

I am so happy that I am reminded over and over of how important little things are in life. Memories are powerful!!! I thank my grandson for reminding me!

Boiled Eggs

Last Friday I spoke at the funeral of one of my best friends. She was described as a "Womanist," a term often used by her cousin, Alice Walker. She was a brilliant woman, a strong woman, a humble woman, a "no nonsense" woman. She taught me many things, but what I remembered most was that she taught me how to boil a perfect egg. I had not thought much about "egg symbolism" until another person compared her to an egg--hard exterior, but soft interior. I was happy to have that "egg" in my life.