By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes

Must do ubiquitous Halloween post!

Unlike my sister, the lovely and talented Vivi Alden, I'm not a huge Halloween fan. Since I don't have kids, Halloween doesn't mean a whole lot, and the only trick-or-treaters we get are high school boys who don't even make a costume effort.

But when when were kids, it was the most glorious time of the year. Our mom would take us to the fabric store in September, and my sister and I would pour over pattern books to search out the perfect costume.

As I've mentioned before, I am a geek. Not a gaming geek. And certainly not a techno-geek...which should be obvious by the stark condition of my blog. The extent of my coding expertise involves doing this or doing that. Rock on.

No, my brand of geek is fangirl. My geeky fangirl phase began about five minutes into my first viewing of Star Wars, and it's held momentum ever since. Actually, the seed was planted at an even younger age when I watched Star Trek reruns with my dad, but, at the time, my main concern was marrying Dr. McCoy when I grew up.

It likely goes without saying that my very first geeky fangirl idol was Princess Leia, and this particular costume amounted to holy quest. Mom and I strategized this costume because it couldn't be found in the pattern book. She proposed using a simple, medieval princess dress pattern, but she'd construct it only of white fabric. I loved this idea. Finally, I'd be able to walk in the figurative shoes of my idol.

So Mom sewed the white dress, and she searched a number of drug stores for just the right hair apparatus in order to form my unruly, thick hair into Princess Leia's famous coiff. (This was no small feat in Anchorage, Alaska at that time.)

The dress was perfect. The hair was perfect. It was all perfect.

And then I was talking to my BFF at the time, our next door neighbor who was neither geeky nor fangirly. She was, in fact, already perfect (or so my young mind perceived). We were excitedly discussing the Halloween party she was going to have in her garage, as well as the party we'd have in school, and she asked me what my costume was going to be.

"Princess Leia! It's so cool!" I responded with glee.

And then she laughed. And laughed. And then yelled out at other people about what I was going to do. Since she laughed, they laughed. And somewhere in there was, "Oh my God, you're going to put donuts in your hair, and everything?" More laughter.

That was that.

I hurried home and informed my mom that I was no longer going to be Princess Leia because that was SO UNCOOL. I didn't tell her that my best friend just mocked me across the school yard. I just pretended that I was pre-pubescent and fickle.

After realizing that I was unmoved by her disappointment after all the work she'd put into it, Mom, always the trooper, jumped into action. She added fanciful gold trim to the dress and made me crown of cardboard, gold foil, and sequins. She even lent me her fabulous gold belt to cinch the waist of the dress so I could be more fairytale regal than the sci-fi variety.

Sorry, Mom. I should have gone with my gut. The Princess Leia costume would've rocked. Just like all the other costumes you made. I'm sure my "best friend" was just jealous that her mom didn't make her costumes.

So here's to the Halloween costume that never was. And also to the fact that I no longer put so much stock - or invest my friendship! - in those who would mock me.