I had a somewhat anachronistic weekend. Saturday I went to Sac ComicCon. I'd never been to a con before, though I had always kind of wanted to. This one was small, nearby, and inexpensive, so on more-or-less a whim, we bought tickets and gave it a whirl. They had the sorts of things that you would expect to see, presuming anybody ever truly expects to see two guys battling it out in full plate armor made from flattened mountain dew cans and duct tape.
I recently watched The Dark Knight. (That would be the second film of the Batman relaunch with Christian Bale -- someone, please, come up with some sort of nomenclature standardization for all these sequels of re-re-relaunched movie series of comic books.)
I didn't like it. (Sorry, Chris, I tried.) I didn't hate it, I just found myself questioning its right to exist.
On my way home from work I popped into the comic book store. I headed over to the Dark Horse rack to see if there was anything new in any of my favorites. (Of course I knew there wasn't; I'm on three different mailing lists that would have alerted me if a new Umbrella Academy was on the way, but a girl can dream.)
“So where are you off to? Someplace fun?”
“A yarn conference.”
“A... yarn conference...”
“So... would that be a yes then?”
It’s hard to explain Stitches to unindoctrinated. You can’t easily explain to your boss that in a mere two-hour’s drive you’re going to be in a land where picking up a skein of yarn, burying your face in it, and taking a big whiff is a perfectly excepted ritual before purchase. He’d think you were nuts. More nuts.
Towards the end of my shift at the library this morning, I came across a lone reference book on my cart of fiction.
“Hello. What are you doing here?”
Turned out to be a knitting book. I raised an eyebrow at it and turned a few pages. One of the advantages of shelving books is the cool stuff that literally jumps into your hands begging to be borrowed.
I put the book on an empty lower shelf on my cart.
“You can follow me home.”
I just discovered something about myself that I didn’t know. I like comic books. Who knew? It took me thirty-one years to get around to cracking one open and giving it a whirl.
I was expounding on this new revelation to a friend over lunch today. She leaned across the table. “You just keep getting geekier, don’t you?”
Takes one to know one, love. And she’s a Class 1 Neek, so she’d really know.