Hutchmoot is this weekend. What is a Hutchmoot? (click to read)
I made it to the first one last year, HM-MMX, and am even more excited for this year's convention. I get to have my wife with me. Last year was awesome. Food. Fellowship. Music. Stories. And as cool as that 1.5 days were, they paled to the growth & transformation out of it. (see here)
For this year, we missed the six hour window during ticket sales and ended up on the waiting list. And we waited to the point of assuming we wouldn't get in. Last Thursday we received an e-mail that spots had opened up and we could get in. We talked & prayed and decided to take the plunge.
This is nerve racking for a few reasons. My dad has graciously and wonderfully volunteered to burn some vacation time and watch our kids. Can he handle a 3 y/o ninja? It costs money. Can we swing it? It's a 10hr drive each way. Will the car hold up? Will the conversation hold up? Will we be held up?
I woke up around 3:30 last night. I saved my 7 y/o from a scary stuffed animal (she called it scary and I agree; it was truly intimidating, it kept looking at you) and then laid there for about 20 minutes. No sleep met my eyes so I went downstairs and read. I tried that sleeping thing again around 4:30. It was like the mountain in the distance that never gets any closer; and it never got closer. Crawl out of bed at 5:00 and start routine to head into work.
The entire time of being awake my mind kept stirring. It was an odd mix of nervous anxiety for the trip and preparations, as well as anticipation for a full weekend of excitement. Like the pressure of having to build all the kids toys the night before Christmas and still being excited for Christmas morning. I'm trying to not pester Becky with my flitting between the two extremes; not sure it's working.
I'm also trying to keep a limit on my expectations. Last year I had high hopes and was blown away. What are the chances it can repeat? I'm trying not to ponder that, trying to just go and enjoy it. Enjoy the spiritual feeding and a quality weekend Becky.
I'm pretty sure Wednesday night may require an extra toast to the end of the day (Straub) to help me sleep through the night. To the Moot.
"We talk of art as something artificial in comparison with life. But I sometimes fancy that the very highest art is more real than life itself. At least this is true; that in proportion as passions become real they become poetical; the lover is always trying to be the poet." GK Chesterton