Cosplay Blues

Next week at the writers’ conference in Vegas one day is designated Cosplay Day. I had to ask what that meant, ‘cos I’m not that with it these days.

So, basically, it’s a day one can dress in costume as one might on Halloween. Back when we lived in Illinois I dressed in costume to give out candy to trick or treaters. Usually my costumes were out of touch enough that kids had to ask me what I was.

My favorite was a red and white striped costume I pieced together, then called myself Not Waldo. Another year I wore one of Studly Doright’s shirts and inserted a doll’s head through the neck opening to create a two-headed monster. The head kept slipping inside my shirt, so I just had it peek out between button holes. In short, my costumes sucked.

So, when I learned about this cosplay thing I knew I had to up my game, but I couldn’t come up with even a hint of an idea. Then, a couple of nights ago I was rewatching Return of the Jedi (perhaps for the millionth time) and realized I should dress up as Mon Mothma—mostly because she has short hair and I wouldn’t need a wig.

I abandoned the movie and began searching the internet for Mon Mothma costumes. They were available, but wouldn’t arrive until after I’d left home for the conference. But the costume is fairly simple and I figured I could scrounge around for a long white dress and sleeveless vest. Add some braiding on the bodice and voilà!

It’s fall. Closing in on winter. The only long white dresses I could locate were on Amazon, and now shipping is delayed due to a little hurricane sitting off the coast of Florida. Okay, I’ll be Mon Mothma another year.

A black and white dress that I haven’t worn in quite a while caught my eye from the back of the closet. I could be Cruella Deville! All I need is a black and white wig. Surely Party City has one. Nope. And Amazon can’t deliver one until after I’ve departed for my trip.

But that’s okay. I’ve decided to go as an undercover spy. All I need to do is be myself and play it cool while leaving cryptic notes for others to decipher.

Acepe Oeplpe! (Peace People)

DisneyWorld in October

Last week my grandson, Garrett, and I spent two days at DisneyWorld in Orlando. We’d planned to take this trip back in July, but Garrett had an emergency appendectomy and was subsequently diagnosed with a neuroendocrine tumor.

We put the Disney trip on hold while he had surgery and went through the recovery period. Being 18, he bounced back pretty quickly, and we thought that late October would be a perfect time to reschedule. We were right!

On our first day we explored Disney’s Hollywood Studios with the express purpose of doing all the Star Wars stuff, and we were successful. Garrett and I share a love of that far, far away galaxy, and I’d worried that we wouldn’t be able to ride the number one ride, The Rise of the Resistance, but we did. It was as awesome as we’d hoped. No spoilers because you just have to experience it to believe it.

Rey, Chewbacca, and me. I’m the one in the Mickey Mouse t-shirt.
Garrett and a Storm Trooper.
A glimpse of the Millennium Falcon on the Smugglers’ Run ride.
Before our interrogation on Rise of the Resistance.

After our long day at the park we took a few pictures at the Pop Century Resort where we were staying.

Everything is HUGE here!
Gives new meaning to “be the ball”.

On day two we headed to Epcot, my second favorite park at DisneyWorld.

In front of Spaceship Earth. Still one of the best experiences in the park.
Garrett had a lot of help with his lunch.

I can honestly say that late October is THE perfect time to visit DisneyWorld. The temperatures were lower. Crowd sizes were much smaller. The food and wine festival was in full swing at Epcot and we enjoyed some tasty dishes. I believe I need to make an annual autumn pilgrimage. I might not ever get a better travel buddy though.

Peace, people!

Stamp of Approval

I don’t often become excited by postage stamps, but as soon as the Star Wars Droids stamps were released I made a trip to the local post office and bought a sheet. Yes, I’m an almost 65-year-old woman with a Star Wars obsession. So sue me. No, don’t. I have no money and it’d be a big waste of time for both of us.

Peace, people, and may the Force be with you.

I Worried

That the Chicago airport would confound him.

That we wouldn’t make it into the virtual queue for a Star Wars ride at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.

I worried he’d think our family suite at the Art of Animation would be too childish, or that hanging out with his Nana wouldn’t be cool.

I worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my 18-year-old grandson for all the fun.

I worried about lots of stuff, but I forgot to worry about cancer.

Weird how I always seem to worry about the wrong things.

Some day Garrett and I are going to keep our vacation plans.

My Cat Has Questionable Taste

Gracie joined me as I binge watched the original Star Wars trilogy yesterday. She was especially taken with Jabba the Hutt.

I should’ve videoed her from the beginning, but didn’t realize she was watching.

I’ll have to encourage her to love Han Solo, I guess. To me it seems like a no-brainer, but then I’m not a cat.

Peace, people.

May the Fourth

I might not have mentioned my love of Star Wars in a while, but this is the perfect day to remind everyone. May the Fourth (be with you) is here and deserves some attention.

From the moment I first met Han Solo I was hooked.

What’s not to love?

When he took me along on his blast into hyperspace I turned to jelly.

Again, Han! Again!

When I feared that he might be crushed to death in the trash compactor I forgot to breathe.

Hey, Where’s Chewie?

And I’ll take Han’s words of comfort with me always.

Peace, people!

Memory Lame

Ah, the things I can’t remember:

What I had for dinner yesterday.

The name of the little doohickeys that cover the valves on my tires. I had to pantomime yesterday while having my car serviced.

At least once a day, where I last put my phone.

How to knit. I once knew how, but now I don’t. Apparently knitting is nothing like riding a bicycle.

How to dance the Macarena.

The last time I had real cheese. This one made me cry. If only I’d known it was the last time, I’d have savored every single bite.

Similarly, I can scarcely remember what a Dr. Pepper tastes like. All I’m certain of is that it’s nothing like cheese.

How to diagram a sentence. I once was skilled at this task.

Names. Faces. It’s awkward when I have to ask my husband, Studly Doright, to wear a name tag.

How to play a saxophone. I was never a great musician, but I miss the camaraderie of band. I wonder if I could join an air band…

But I do remember most of the dialogue from Star Wars, A New Hope, and all the words to The Heart of Rock and Roll. I know John Cowsill’s birthday and Studly Doright’s social security number, as well as my own.

I remember the day I realized I couldn’t marry Elvis Presley. Not because of the immense age difference (I was five; he was in his twenties), but because my name would then be Leslie Presley.

I remember how it felt to hold my babies for the very first time. That new baby smell is still fresh in my mind. And I remember all five of my grandkids’ birthdays. Sometimes I don’t remember how old they are, but at least I get the date right.

Going to high school football games in late November when it was so cold I couldn’t feel my cheeks, but loving being squashed in between the grownups in my life, pretending my hot chocolate was coffee just like they were drinking.

I remember saying “I do” and meaning it, even though I didn’t really understand the commitment I was making at the time. Does anyone?

I remember my mom’s smile and my dad’s laugh, and honestly, what else matters?

Peace, people.

Drawing Hope from A New Hope

“If you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.” — Obi-Wan Kenobi
“It’s not impossible. I used to bullseye womp rats in my T-16 back home, they’re not much bigger than 2 meters.” — Luke Skywalker
Okay, this one’s from Episode V—The Empire Strikes Back, but I needed a little Han in my life.

2020 has been a year to try men’s and women’s souls, but it’s hardly the first time that our country, our world, has faced such incredible odds. I know the Star Wars universe is fictional, but still, I draw hope from the resistance. We might’ve lost our Obi-Wan when we lost Ruth Bader-Ginsburg, but just maybe we can rise up in her honor, making her more powerful than anyone could possibly imagine.

Peace, people.

The Right Side of the Force

I just bought a new white helmet to go with my new white bike. Matching is extremely important to me.

But the more I look at this stark white helmet, the more I feel like I’m ready to play a stormtrooper.

Straight out of the Star Wars universe. But, I’m one of the good girls, right?

May the Force, and peace, be with you.

From my personal collection.

eBay or Goodwill

Last week we had new carpet installed here at Doright Manor. In preparation for the arrival of the carpet layers I had to clean all of the stuff from the closet floors. Simple enough.

Finally I’d moved everything that might be in the way of the workmen into the seldom used living room and decided this afforded me the perfect excuse to assess every item, Marie Kondo style, to see if any joy was sparked before putting anything back in its old storage place.

After nearly a week of sorting through the odds and ends I’ve come to believe that joy is relative. Just because something doesn’t spark joy today doesn’t mean it won’t tomorrow. I’m hopeless.

That’s not to say I haven’t decided to get rid of a few things, but the manner in which they’re to be disposed of is giving me a few headaches.

I’m an avid Star Wars fan, and have collected dozens of action figures, plush toys, calendars, mugs, and silly promotional items over the years. But they aren’t being displayed. Instead, they’ve just been sitting and collecting dust. I did list a couple of items on eBay:

Vintage Yoda
Vintage Max Rebo

So far, I have one bid on Max and no bites on Yoda yet, even though he’s priced dirt cheap, and is in slightly better shape than Max. I’ll end up losing money on both items, but at least someone will get some joy out of them. And I’ll likely cry when they’re gone.

One of my problems in purging stuff is deciding if if an item should be tossed, sold, or donated. Actually, the tossing is fairly straightforward. Some things don’t deserve a second chance like the chewed up, stuffing-less cat toy I discovered in a box of clothes. But also in that box was this:

Vintage pleather!

This deep pink (I stress “deep” and not “hot”) pleather suit was my grandmother’s in the 80’s. Yes, my grandmother’s, and she looked gorgeous in it. I can’t remember why she gave the suit to me, but she must’ve been in her 70’s at the time and told me then that she was keeping the matching trousers because she’d still wear them. I just love that.

I wore the ensemble once many years ago to a party, but it wasn’t “me” for a number of reasons, and now the size ten is a tad too small. Plus, it still isn’t “me.”

BUT, should I send it straight to Goodwill or might someone browsing on eBay see it and say, “My goodness! I MUST have that deep pink suit!” This is my dilemma.

I think I’ll ruminate a while longer, and honestly that suit isn’t taking up too much closet space, right?

Peace, people.

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