Magic

When Elijah came home from camp last summer, he regaled us with stories of defeating rival Camp Mohawk in the annual camp Olympics and getting lost in the woods and learning to love and watching his friends get picked off by Jason Voorhees’ mom.

Naw, he doesn’t tell us squat. 

He did, however, tell us about a game he played constantly: Magic The Gathering. Diana and I simultaneously gave him a wedgie and swirly.

Despite being a fashionable nerd, I missed Magic The Gathering (MTG). It always felt more like a theater dork game than a band nerd game. But in a desperate attempt to cling to my son in any way shape or form before he leaves for college, I asked him to teach me.

The game is based around collecting little cards with dragons or elves or spells on them. You use them to fight someone else’s dragons or elves. There are tens of thousands of cards in existence, so it is physically impossible for someone to try to buy them all. 

But I was determined to try.

Egged on by Eli, I started buying up cards. Cards that ended up on the floor, in huge piles around the dining room table, under the couch, in my pockets. Diana hates this game with every fiber of her being.

Pretty quickly, we learned the best place to waste our money was at Evanston Games. THE place for Evanston nerds. Eli and I immediately found our home. Eli loves it because EGames is a wonderful, welcoming place that attracts kids who don’t really fit in anywhere else. Lots of gender fluidity, awkwardness, and dorky hairdos. 

EGames loves Eli because he is a naturally charming kid who wants to help anyone and everyone. Plus he is bankrolled by a dad with more money than sense (remind me to tell you about the Simpsons toy collection I just purchased). 

They love me because I like to burst through the door and shout, “I would like to purchase your most expensive card, good people!”

We’ve become so invested in the game that we attend Friday night “drafts.” Which is basically me, plus 12 kids half my age tearing open card wrappers and playing a little round robin tournament.

I am not joking when I say the kids are half my age. The other week I was playing against a ten year old person who identified as “they/them” and they stopped playing to stare at me for a moment.

“Are you a DAD?” they asked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m a dad.”

“Whose dad are you?”

I pointed out Eli. “I’m his dad.”

They stared at me for another beat. Then asked, “Can I have a dollar?”

Yes. Evanston Games kid. You can always have a dollar. 

Janet

I spend 23.5 hours a day in the same spot in my office. Staring at a computer screen, surrounded by my special ukulele, my toys, my legos and a slowly vanishing collection of wine stuff from when Diana actually stepped foot in here. 

Oh and there is always a filthy little dog at my feet who would love nothing better than to sit on me.

My command center and hibernation chamber is great and serves its purpose, but does mean I’m trapped from the outside world. An outside world that occasionally need to interact with my world. 

Inevitably, when I am just about to present an amazing advertising idea to a person who could fire me with a snap of their fingers, someone knocks at the door. One of the 3,000 Amazon deliveries we get a day. Or a Luca friend. Or a nice young and not totally scary man who wants to sell me some magazines.

We tried to give Luca his own key, but it’s nearly impossible for him to remember something so important. Plus, our front lock sticks, so he is usually forces to pound on the door or repeatedly ring the doorbell until I excuse myself from a high powered meeting to let him in.

I’ve taken to leaving the door unlocked so I no longer have to move from my chair. Or move at all. I look forward to the day when I am so obese I get to wash myself with a rag on a stick.

Yeah, it’s not the safest thing in the world, but we live in Whitey Whiteville. We don’t get much crime in these parts. 

Moving on. A few weeks ago, I was sitting in my bedsores and Luca was watching his phone on our blue couch when we heard the door open and a woman’s voice said, “Helloooooo?”

We both figured it was Eli, and thus ignored the greeting.

“Helloooo? Hellooooo? Janet?”

Janet? That’s a new one. Must be a Tiktok trend. 

Luca then shouted, “Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!”

I strolled into our living room where a young woman had just broken into our house. Luca stood at a safe distance.

As I looked at the woman, I thought, “Am I within in my rights to kill this person?” Now, this woman was zero threat. She was a good hundred pounds lighter than me and had the look of a cat enthusiast. 

But still. What am I supposed to do here? Yell? Brandish a steak knife? Get a nerf gun?

Luca and I just started laughing. No, Janet doesn’t life here. Just two idiots who couldn’t stop laughing. Janet’s friend began apologizing profusely and wanted nothing more than to go back to her cats.  

She let herself out and quickly walked down our sidewalk, where she encountered Elijah, who was just arriving home from school.

The woman tried to explain why she was in Eli’s house and he burst out laughing as well. I hope she found Janet eventually.