Sir Nerdalot is celebrating his forty-first birthday today. Or thirty-elleven. Or twenty-nine plus tax.
Actually, I have decided that I am not going to do the lying on the age-thing any longer, especially not on Sir Nerdalot’s behalf. No, I figure that the alternative to growing older is quite counter-productive, and not really something anyone would enjoy. So my favourite Nerd is forty-one. Today. Please join me in wishing him Happy Birthday in a language he can understand:
Of course, Old Mamasan, being such a perfect little housewife, made him birthday-cupcakes to bring into work. They do that in Denmark. Well, in Norway too, for that matter.
Let us establish a fact here: Sir Nerdalot is – yup, you guessed it – a Nerd. Old Mamasan is not. Old Mamasan is Nerd-friendly. There is a diffrence. As of last week, I fear that I have taken my demonstration of Nerd-friendliness a tad too far.
Here’s the thing: Everyone that shares a driveway and a mailbox with a Nerd, are accustomed to “loosing” their Nerd to endless online discussions about what rocks the most of Star Wars and Star Trek. Throw a little Tolkien and Sir Terry Pratchett into the mix, and you have it going on for weeks upon end. Evening upon evening, shooting-noises and scary monster-roars are heard emerging from the Man Cave. Periodically you loose them to fiddeling about, and painting little figurines that they use in boardgames. Not seldom has my request for Sir Nerdalot to “put away his little dolls and come up for dinner” been answered with a frustrated: “It’s not little dolls, dang nabbit! They are Tyranids and this one in particular is a Tervigon. It spawns, and nerd-nerd-nerdinerd-nerd!” (And then he puts his little dolls away and comes up for dinner.)
When Sir Nerdalot and myself were young and madly in love, which we still are (young, that is), I got him the most genius Valentines-gift. I mean, we are really talking Epic giftgiving here. I named a star after him. Nope, it’s not a hoax. With bigger and better telescopes, new stars and objects out there in the galaxy are discovered every day. They don’t even bother to name them anymore, they just slap a number on them. And then – here is the genius part – you can buy the right to name one! You get a certificate, an info-package, coordinates to where it is and what time of year you can see it, and so forth. It is really, really cool. Especially for a nerd! Have a look here , if you think this is the coolest stuff, since the Harry Potter-books!
Sir Nerdalot was absolutely flabbergasted about this gift. Even he lost the ability to speak Nerd! As far as gifts are concerned – we are talking bullseye! The problem with that gift, is that there is no coming back from it. Ever. You have now totally ruined every future giftgiving occation for all eternity. It doesn’t matter if you are going for pricey or thoughtful – you just can not top that one. Trust me – I have tried. Superman-boxers, Minions-PJs, laptops, homemade dinners, fancy restaurant-dinners, travels, R2D2-legos. They do not even come close. Be aware of this, should you decide to name a star after your Nerd, the price you pay is never being able to top it ever again. (Also, please note that you can’t possibly wait for the last giftgiving occation either. You’re going to have to risk it!)
But. This year I actually topped it. Lo and behold! He got a telescope, so now he can actually see the star that bears his name, somewhere out there in the infinite space! He got the gift early, a week ago. He has already tried it out, every night the past week.
Every afternoon, right after dinner, he is pacing around the room wearing a path into the hardwood floor, waiting for darkness to fall. And I realize, I have lost him for good now. There will never be a shared movie-night again.
Not even Star Wars.