Yes, Joe and I are packing our fleece-lined underwear and thick socks and heading for beautiful Green Bay and 3tacon, the better to connect faces to internet aliases and sample the bounty that defines Wisconsin, to wit: cheese curds and frozen custard.
Not to mention brats, booyah, and beer.
I am all a-twit with anticipation.
You know, it's really kind of fascinating, this new culture. I'm going to a place to meet up with a bunch of people -- some of whom I've never met before -- whose lives I'm already familiar with! It makes conversation almost easy:
"So how's the potty training going?"
"I'm so happy for you! He sounds perfect!"
"Let me see your wrist! Is it all better?"
"Personal training? You're a better woman than I am!"
"So, you're getting a lot of (Philip K.) Dick in that science fiction class, eh?"
"Bad teeth? Me neither, babe!"
There will be hugs and jokes and swag. There will be partying and shoe-ogling and dancing and maybe even a snowball fight (heh heh heh -- it's not like I'm planting a seed there or anything).
This group of merrymakers is all ages, all genders, all orientations, all lifestyles; the one common denominator is this weird need to share our lives with anyone who happens to stumble across our little spaces in the ether.
Huh. I guess I could continue to get all philosophical about this; you know, how the world's getting smaller and the lines between generations are being erased and wow isn't this just the epitome of the new age blah blah blah woof woof woof.
But I have to find my chenille scarf and decide which boots I'm going to take and figure out how to label my swag.