Strange visitors from another planet.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

Two geeks met in 1987 in high school German class, somewhat out of sync with the ordinary folks around us. Divine timing would keep our unplanned parallel paths intertwining over the years. Everything led up to our determinedly simple wedding in 2004, by which time we best friends had already started traveling together after growing up in families and lifestyles that didn’t lend themselves to much of it. All these years later, our story continues together through ups and downs, highs and lows, chuckles and tears, aches and pains, and mountains and valleys both figurative and literal.

We’re the Goldens. It’s who we are and what we do.

When I posted about our 20th anniversary last year — a milestone, mind you! — almost no one cared. Despite the apathy of You, The Viewers at Home, it’s an MCC tradition, so here we go again anyway! Briefly, even! By my standards, I mean!

Through thick and thin she’s put up with me all this time, even as new challenges come up — the fracturing and distancing of our respective families, the effects of the aging process on our bodies (and, y’know, the consequences of snacks), and more immediate concerns such as the financial burden of keeping a 14-year-old Kia Forte running for as long as possible to avoid the even pricier treacheries of new-car shopping. In a moment when we could use a break from everyday stresses, staggering to-do lists, and subjects containing the word “politic”, for practical reasons we’ve had to delay our annual road trip till the end of August. Summer hasn’t yet meant much to us this year.

Nevertheless, together we enjoy whatever little oases we can. The annual “happy anniversary to us, I can’t believe we get to keep doing this” entry usually focuses on the anniversary dinner, but this year we skipped elegance and any urge for Instagram pretension. This past Thursday, the day-of, we kept it humble and tried Indian pizza at a hole-in-the-wall joint across from a Walmart. It had no dress code and wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t have to be, especially not in this economy.

A 12-inch chicken tikka masala pizza. We also ordered a chicken butter paneer pizza, which looked identical except it was yellower.

Only three other customers came and went while we ate. Mostly it was the two of us alone, plus easily ignorable reruns of Chicago P.D.

So right now we’re about enjoying the little things, such as the wave of SUPERMANIA! sweeping the nation and the less cynical internet crannies. I worked through most of my enthusiasm when I spent most of last Sunday cranking out 2800 words about Superman, whose occasional cinematic flaws only further prove its own point: trying to do the right thing and the better thing despite your own screw-ups and deficiencies, despite other people’s withering judgment or cold shoulders.

Krispy Kreme celebrates SUPERMANIA! SUPERMANIA! SUPERMANIA!

We’ll have other opportunities for quality time in the months ahead. We have conventions coming up, that aforementioned road trip (which once again will also include a con), our own Indiana State Fair, a new Marvel movie that might be at least one-tenth as optimistic as Superman, and plans to keep our finances under control so we can enjoy some of that with a lighter spirit.

In the meantime we’ve already swapped anniversary gifts as well. Along with a particularly fancied object, I’ve also given her the greatest gift of all: my personal promise that I will never, ever take a mistress to a Coldplay concert. Like, ever. That’s a Golden guarantee!