The Color of Light

Inspirational song: The Rainbow Connection (Kermit the Frog)

For Christmas, one of my daughters made me something to hang in windows in the front and back of my house. Everywhere she has lived, she's always had crystals in all of her sunny windows, and she knows I'm fond of putting them in rooms as well (although I haven't in a while). She tried weaving crystal beads into a double-helix form, with four color-coded ends that paired to mimic strands of DNA, ending in walnut sized clear crystal pendants. Making thin wire stay in a helix shape was difficult, and we're going to have to thread something through each one so that it stays like it is supposed to. These were labeled as gifts to me, but I recognized immediately that it was really meant for Rabbit. She has always had a thing for lights dancing across walls, and she especially likes when prisms throw tiny rainbows around a room. She chatters and jumps at them, and years vanish from her face. She is instantly a kitten again when she sees rainbows.

One of my gifts to the same daughter was a box with a piece of wrapping paper cut out in the shape of a fish, as a coupon to restock her fish tank that has been empty for a long time now. I couldn't just buy fish and keep them in the bag until she came over for the holiday. They would have died long before the tank was ready to receive them. I have her big tank in my dressing room, as the cricketarium-cruise ship where Agnes the lizard now lives. We went to the pet store intending to buy just a handful of small fish, to fit in her little desktop one. While there, before acquiring the actual live animals, I discovered she needed a heater for the tank, and a thermometer, and food. Suddenly this was turning into more of a present than I'd expected, but I was pressing forward, starting to gather supplies. At the same moment, she and I noticed a spectacular sale on ten gallon tanks specifically designed to hold the "glow in the dark" fish (naturally colored day-glo tropical fish). I made the call that it was a better deal than all the little piecemeal things I was buying, and we got her the new setup instead. The actual fish won't go in it until tomorrow, so we still didn't leave the store with any new pets. But we have a plan to buy a rainbow collection of them tomorrow. I think after all I got tonight, I'll let her do the actual fish-buying.

While we shopped, she shared a story with me. She told me of one of the residents in the nursing home where she works. This woman shared our appreciation for putting crystals in windows, to have rainbows dancing all over her walls too. Recently she took a bad spill and injured herself, and took a sudden decline after that. She had been transferred to palliative care, and was on a steady dose of painkillers and anti-anxiety medications. Her son was with her yesterday morning, when he saw one of the prisms throw a rainbow across her face, that stretched over her mouth, and connect directly with the photo beside her bed, of her and her husband. The son knew in that moment that it was time to let go of his mother, and suddenly he was at peace with it. By that afternoon she was gone. I am not sure I have heard a death story so sweet before.

No Envy, No Fear

Inspirational song: Enjoy the Silence (Depeche Mode)

Each step along the way, I dreamed and studied and wondered when it would all feel real. I got that today. I showed three houses to my clients, and by the time we split up and I drove home, I was grinning the whole way, feeling like I am finally out of the test phase. This is straight up legit, and so am I. I worried yesterday that I didn't sell myself well enough just by talking across from the couple in a restaurant. Today, we went around three houses, all of which they liked, and we covered a lot of ground. By sundown, I had a great relationship with them, and unshakable confidence that I wasn't just a kid playing dress-up.

I really paid attention to the last three real estate agents we worked with, through four different deals here in Colorado, and two in South Carolina. They were knowledgeable, calm, and poised. Today I mimicked them the best I could, all the way down to their posture. I dressed comfortably for the weather and to be able to slip off shoes as we went into houses, but I still felt personally powerful in my new red wool coat (I consider it my professional costume). I still don't have my personal business cards. I'm stuck handing out the generic brokerage cards, with my name hand-written on the back. But I plopped those puppies down on kitchen counters like I was tipping a blackjack dealer with a C-note, and marked my territory just as I was supposed to. Everything will come in time. For now, I'm using other people's cards and other people's moves, but I'm rocking it all like it's all my own signature statement.

I managed not to have house envy while I was in giant homes twice (or more) the size of mine. I'm comfortable with my choices, and I didn't suddenly find the need to house hunt again after visiting other people's spaces today. This is good. I worried that I'd question my decision to stay here as long as I can live independently. So far, touring houses for sale is like visiting with other people's kids or pets. It's fun as long as the kids or pets are being cute, and when you come back to your own home without them, it's a relief. The view out of the really expensive house, though. Wow. I could have woken up to that master bedroom window, and it wouldn't have been a hardship.

Feels Like the Real Thing

Inspirational song: The Real Me (The Who)

Do I have the job with these home buyers? I'm really not sure. No contracts yet. But they seemed to have fun talking to me, and they seemed very open to getting further communication from me, so I think I'm in a good position right now. If nothing else, I learned many things, about the process, about the websites (I had a lot of computer work over the last 48 hours), and about myself. Tomorrow will be a whole new set of firsts, and I can't wait. Showings start in the afternoon.

I'm already needing to remind myself that I wanted a real winter. It was bitterly cold last night, still at zero degrees Fahrenheit when I woke this morning. It hasn't been super fun for the dogs to be outside more than a few minutes at a time, and even now, maybe three minutes after being let out for the last chance potty break before bed, Elsa is punching at the sliding glass door demanding to come back inside. It's beautiful outside, though. Just a touch of sunlight and bitter becomes crisp. I can handle that. We've become the gathering spot on the block for the wildlife again. We're now up to five regular cast members in the Squirrel Show, my cats' favorite program to watch. There's a chorus of birds who appear regularly too. There are now four bird feeders and two squirrel feeders getting constant use during daylight hours, which means there are always at least one or two black and white cats staring out the back door. I think word has gotten out that we are the hip new restaurant on the block.

Big day tomorrow follows big day today. Think happy thoughts for me as the student becomes the master.

Homework

Inspirational song: Love Me Do (The Beatles)

I've spent the day doing my homework. Yesterday I was flustered and freaked out and too excited to think straight. Today I'm laser focused on houses in a certain price range, and in my preliminary searching, I've gone 50 grand on either side of that range, so I know exactly what to tell the couple I'm to meet in the afternoon. I have not been hired yet, but I have a very friendly interview to become this couple's agent. I just have to wow them with my confidence and my research. I've got those two things down, at least.

I made a list of neighborhoods and the man and I drove around trying to spot the flaws before I made any suggestions to my potential clients. I'm really glad I had him both with me and behind the wheel. There were a couple places I had mixed up in my head, and I would have set off in the wrong direction and wondered why I wasn't finding what I sought. Also, he has known every inch of the county since he was old enough to toddle away from his mother in stores (rapidly), so he was a good resource for pointing out train tracks, busy streets, and fracking sites. I'm going to look so knowledgeable tomorrow, and I'll mostly be repeating the details he showed me today. It helps to have married a Boulder native who pays attention to his home ground.

I'm as calm as I can be on the eve of the first big test of my sales skills (selling myself), knowing that while my license is indeed active, my official number is still pending. I can't sign up for the showing services and MLS websites without it. Hope for me that the big boss has some time tomorrow to help me with the last few pieces of the puzzle. That's what mentoring is all about, right?

I didn't take pictures of the actual houses I scouted out, but I saw a few that caught my eye, for better or for worse. So don't take any of these as examples of my research. It was just me in the passenger seat, wondering how to decorate tonight's blog.

Boxing Day

Inspirational song: Home for the Holidays (Perry Como)

It has been too much today. Fun, activity, family, more presents, leftover ham, leftover mulled wine, not enough sleep, internet videos, laughing until I can't breathe, not enough down time. And to top it off, I'm in a panic. I meet with my first real, bonafide, active clients on Monday. No non-responsive internet leads this time. Go me! I'll be spending tomorrow re-wrapping my head around this whole work concept, shaking off the remnants of the holiday.

I'm glad I took most of the week off not thinking about anything outside of the friends and family and celebrating, but it's time to come back to earth. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, doing searches, getting my ducks in a row. I need to go to bed early tonight.

Now let's hope that little derpy grand-dog lets me sleep this time. I got up to let her out twice overnight last night, and she scratched at my guest room door for hours...

Happy Christmas

Inspirational song: All I Want for Christmas Is You (Mariah Carey)

What a long, satisfying day. I've been awake since the middle of the night last night, when we got a text update from daughter number one, who left super late and powered through a snowstorm in the mountains to come visit for the holiday. Once it was light enough to get out of bed, I hit the ground running, finishing the cleaning, cooking my contributions to the family potluck, and setting up to have what ended up being fifteen people here for a feast. It was a crush, as they used to say in Regency times, and it was all I hoped it would be. We needed borrowed tables and borrowed chairs, and by the end of the night it was pretty warm in my living room, even with the weepy single-pane front window and cold snowy day.

We managed to seat everyone, feed everyone, have plenty to drink, and even have enough silverware to go around (thanks to this morning's gift from daughter number two, two more place settings of my favorite pattern, something I've been hoping to receive for years). It was hectic and noisy and wonderful. I mentioned last night that I've waited since we were in our twenties to be able to host the whole family, and today I got to do it for the second time since we bought this house. It makes me so happy to bring them all here. It wasn't the entire family -- a few spouses won out this year so some nieces, nephews, and three of my in-laws were missing, but that's okay. I'm not sure we could have fit the other twelve people who were elsewhere. But for the fifteen who made it, it was just right. The siblings who hosted Thanksgiving have a house twice this size, and it was more suited for the whole clan. But at least now I'm in the rotation, and I loved it.

When the kids were little, our Christmases were much bigger. More gifts, more activity in the mornings. This year it was just me and the man, and I think I made out with more stuff than he did. But then, he does get pretty cranky when I suggest buying him presents. I do it anyway. And I'll do more next year than this one, just because I'll have more folding cash (assumably). I got good things, including some things I've wanted for years. But really, the best gift of all was the people: the family, the camaraderie, and that man exhibiting a little holiday cheer. Happy holidays, friends!

Last Minute Rush

Inspirational song: I Believe in Father Christmas (Emerson, Lake, & Palmer)

Twenty years ago (plus six months) when we first set forth on our nomadic tour of the country, moving every few years, we were living pretty close to the edge. Church mice lived more luxurious lives than we did back then. We lived in a small apartment, a basement in a friend's house at that, when we last lived in the Boulder area. The idea that we would ever host my in-laws for a holiday was years away in my future. As we moved all over, we returned to Colorado as often as we could, always meeting either at my mother-in-law's condo, or one house or another of my husband's siblings. Once I was able to have real houses of my own, I started wishing I could host a big family holiday, but it was never feasible to have the whole family fly out to where we were, when the four of us could make it back here in one car/airplane. Once my mother's side of my family came to my house for Thanksgiving, and once my dad's came for Christmas, but we don't add up to nearly the same size crowd as my in-laws.

Fast forward to now, when I have a modestly-sized but open concept home in the metro area, and I can finally cash in on all those saved up opportunities to have the family here. I may not have the biggest space, but I think I have the biggest desire to host of all of us, having banked decades' worth of wishing that I could graduate to that level of hospitality. I still need my sister-in-law to bring a stack of folding chairs to seat us all, but as we get fully moved in here, I'll find places to store extra tables and chairs so we don't have to borrow. I'm happy to build that ability.

I got up early and started cleaning. We still have so many boxes and piles of "we'll unpack that later" lying around, so we forced ourselves to attack some of the clutter. Or maybe the way to look at that is that we created more clutter. I opened several boxes that were purely decorating items, and scattered souvenirs and art everywhere. We hung up a couple corner shelves to house some stuff, and even more things are hanging on the walls as of today. I've become keenly aware of just how bad my addiction to lanterns is, having unpacked at least a dozen of them, and not having found the one particular one I was looking for. I keep telling the man, it looks bad now, but it will be awesome come summer when we are outside and the back yard is full of little fairy lights with candles in all of these lanterns.

I also learned that I am an evil, evil woman. While I stayed home to clean, I sent the man out to do some last minute shopping. I asked him to pick up some chocolate to put on the tables tomorrow, and then sent him unsupervised to the grocery store. He'd already proved himself untrustworthy after coming home yesterday with half of the freezer section of King Soopers, namely the half with the ice cream that was on sale. Today I got a texted photo of the shopping cart, with the top basket full of bags of chocolate. I should have known better than to put him in the way of temptation so soon after yesterday's trials.

Born in a Barn

Inspirational song: I'm Alright (Kenny Loggins)

I've bragged about my stepfather the artist several times before. What I don't say often enough is how his lifetime of art has inspired me. When I was somewhere in my teens, he went through a phase where he painted a lot of Western art. It was an evolution from what we called his "bucket phase," and it included several of my favorite works that he has ever done. My very favorite from this period is the first one I ever sweet-talked him out of, the painting that has hung in every bedroom I've lived in since I was twenty years old. At the time it was painted, he called it "Towards Vishnu Temple," but in later years, he has referred to it in more generic terms based on the photograph that inspired it, renaming it "Grand Canyon." I watched him painting this one, knowing in my heart it was going to be mine, even though it took a few years to convince him of that. I remember the day he constructed the frame for it as if it was yesterday. To match the Western themes he was using in the late 1970s and early 1980s, he used old barn wood in frames and as a design feature in the art gallery he owned back then. At some point, he ran out of his supply of real barnwood, and back then we weren't quite ready to tear down the old horse barn on our family's ranch property (it since fell over, and I'm still heartsick that I never got any pieces of it to use to build furniture). My stepfather made his own worn, weathered wood frames long before there was an entire cable network devoted to showing us how to do these things. He chipped and carved divots and cracks in layers of fresh dimensional lumber, and then carefully blended different gray paints to achieve exactly the look he wanted. To me, that frame is as much part of the art as the painting of the tree it surrounds. And it set in my heart a not-so-well-concealed passion for old weathered wood and all things rustic that continues to this day.

A month or so ago, I told you about a large set of bookshelves I was working on in the middle of the living room. I had people over to the house before it was finished, and I dragged it, the extra trim pieces, and the drop cloth it all rested on into my bedroom, and for weeks I've been stepping around it, throwing my dirty clothes on it, and pretending that someday I'd finish it. Over the last week, I applied the trim pieces, and last night I finally got a razor scraper to remove the overflow of Gorilla Glue on a few key surfaces. This morning I gave it a rough sand, just enough to knock off any splinters and dull the sharp edges so it didn't look brand new, and I gave it a couple coats of classic gray stain. The first coat was pretty thin, and it just looked like weathered pine, but I went around it again and took it a much darker gray, more like the deep tones of that old horse barn I miss so much. I let it dry in the middle of the kitchen, and when we got home tonight (to a house full of seriously intoxicating petroleum distillate fumes), I gave it one light coat of furniture wax. It came out exactly how I wanted it, rustic, soft, and not shiny. I love it so much, and I dedicate it to the art frame that inspired my love of barn wood. I've already unloaded four big boxes of paperback novels into it (stacked two deep on each shelf, with just a little room left over for books to come out that I don't get on Kindle), and I've temporarily housed a couple Boston ferns on it so that I can fit chairs around the table at Christmas. Finally, I am one step closer to being moved in, and I have what almost qualifies as a reading nook. Yet another reason to think that this house is my forever home.

A Long Winter's Nap

Inspirational song: Baby, It's Cold Outside (Frank Loesser)

It was far too dark in my bedroom when I woke this morning. There are a lot of things I like about winter, but dark mornings is not one of them. It's hard enough for me to wake on any given day, but I do much better when there is light. I fought my impulse to roll over and go back to sleep, since I had so much to do, and self-imposed deadlines to complete my tasks. Now that the day is drawing to a close, I wish I hadn't bothered. I had a lot more time than I thought I did. I could have used the sleep.

For the last several holiday seasons, I volunteered with my ladies' club, wrapping presents with my friends outside of a store, for tips to raise money for the operational expenses of the club. The store provided giant rolls of wrapping paper, tape, scissors, and a limited amount of boxes and ribbon. But more importantly, they provided long tables and chairs. I currently don't have a clear table or counter in the whole house. It was all I could do to clear off (and vacuum) a wide spot on my area rug in the living room, to give myself a space to wrap presents. I should have put the effort into clearing the dining room table. I forgot to take into account that my area rug is a thin Persian carpet laid on top of slate tile. I'm pretty sure someone has beaten my middle-aged hips with a sledgehammer. My spine is compressed and crumpled like an empty aluminum soda can. I may have to take advantage of this longest night (or is it the second longest night of the year?) and go to bed early to sleep off the soreness. Maybe a cup of spiked eggnog will facilitate that merriment.

I usually enjoy wrapping presents, especially when they look so pretty under the tree. I prefer to drape ribbons and bows all over them, being creative with frothy cascades of curls and artsy placement of stripes. I tried to put curling ribbon on a few of my gifts, but I have learned the error of my ways. For a week, I have heard chewing on the back side of the tree, and had to jump up and chase Rabbit away from where she was eating all the ribbons. An old friend of ours lost a cat who ate some sort of string, when it tied up in her intestines. I'm terrified of the same thing happening to my plastic-eating baby. But the more I yell at her, the more she acts up. No threats of Santa giving her coal, no spying by a creepy elf doll will help out in this case. She's getting worse the closer the holiday comes. It's like living with a needy toddler. I'd give her a time out, but it isn't going to help. Maybe she needs a nap too. That always worked with my human kids.

The Best Present of All

Inspirational song: Gold (John Stewart)

I am exhausted. I have gone through hours of training videos and exercises, as instructed by my employing broker. I have about two and a half more to go tomorrow, before I hand off the video set to my fellow new agent. My brain is full and I am fired up and ready to go. All the unknowns that were intimidating to me a couple weeks ago are starting to fall into place and seem much less scary.

Late this afternoon, I got the greatest news of all, in an email. I learned that while the state regulatory web site shows all of our statuses as pending (still), the official status is that all three of our licenses are active and hanging at Headwaters Realty in Fort Collins, Colorado. It's for real now! I'm officially a licensed real estate broker! I am able to move forward, and do all the things in this business requiring a license. I feel so grown up, so trusted.

I have two real, solid leads that I can follow up on now. I can't wait to get started. I've known for years that this business is the right one for me, and now I'm able to prove it. Just two things left to see in front of me, my state-issued broker number, and my business cards. They are both in the pipeline, and there's still time to get them before the weekend. Sing with me: All I want for Christmas is my two pieces-of-supporting-data....

Home for the Holidays

Inspirational song: Do They Know It's Christmas (Band-Aid)

In the same spirit that I enjoyed the panic right before Homecoming weekend, when I had a house full of my family, and needed to unpack, clean, and decorate my house, we are at it again. There will be at least a dozen family members coming over for Christmas dinner this year, and if I am lucky and schedules and weather work in our favor, even an overnight guest. We are unpacking more boxes, and making more decorating decisions in anticipation of the holiday dinner party. We've put a few more nails in the walls, and hung up "art" pieces that haven't been displayed in years. (Bull horns from a truck stop outside Amarillo count as art, right? Especially with a couple CU ball caps dangling on each side, to hide the fact that, like most of us, Bovine Americans are not symmetrical.) With every painting I hang on the walls, with every little piece that gets put in place, this house feels more and more permanent. It feels like home. It isn't necessarily coming together exactly as I imagined it would when I bought it, but that's totally fine by me. It feels more organic, more like a family effort, as little surprises happen, and the rooms reveal themselves instead of me trying to force them to look a certain way. The edges are softer now, the spaces more cozy, and somehow it is all warmer, even as the temperatures stay low outside (and near this window that will be replaced in a couple weeks).

I am both excited and worn out by the holidays this year. I'm far more active than I've been in several years, for decorating, shopping, and socializing. I'm still feeling the conflict between wanting to give gifts to my family and being overwhelmed by the nauseating ads that conflate consumer goods with love (directly and explicitly). I don't need to "win Christmas" by spending the most money. I have some fun gifts to hand out, but just a few. That's plenty for us. All of us, the whole family, we are keenly aware of how much stuff we have accumulated over the years, even though we made a point of thinning out our belongings every two to four years when we moved. Yes, it is really fun to open brightly wrapped packages on Christmas morning. I could do it for hours, and enjoy it the whole time. But then at the end, what would I do with all that stuff?

Hm. I had a terrible idea as I wrote the end of that last paragraph. What if Mr S-P takes me at my word, and just covers all of these large cardboard boxes with gift wrap, to force me to open and sort the stuff we moved here with? Nobody suggest that to him, okay? He's just mean enough to do it, and I know he's tired of me finding excuses every day not to open every box in the garage. That is not how I want to spend my holidays.

Flexible Holiday Plans

Inspirational song: Seven Nation Army (The White Stripes)

I've started getting a lot better at notating things in my calendar. For a year or two, I didn't really need to put in too much, as my social calendar was light enough I could keep most of it in my head (although I did still plug things into my phone when they were important). Now I have to write every single event down, because they are starting to pile up on me. For sure, I am not complaining. But it feels weird to have to plan weeks out, and to tie up big blocks of time, to make sure I don't double-book. It's feeling like the old days again. It's exciting, but it's a little intimidating too.

I managed to keep this Saturday open, and I'm not sure how. It allowed me to jump on the opportunity to go to a basketball game on super short notice, when once again, tickets fell in my lap. My brother in law didn't need his season tickets tonight, and we were all too happy to make sure they got used. Then we found out they had some general admission promotional seats available too, so we were able to bring in two of our dear friends also. We sat in the bench seats behind the season ticket spot long enough to determine that the two chairs next to our reserved spot were conveniently unclaimed. So we all moved down two rows, and watched in relative comfort. Yes, I believe this might have to be one of the early luxury items on my "once my real estate business is providing steady income" list. I would not have predicted ten years ago that I would be interested even in single game basketball tickets, much less investing in season tickets, but I have to admit, it's nice watching a sporting event with comfortable seating, no extreme weather (during the game at least, not necessarily walking to and from the car), and a reasonable shot at winning. The Buffs are 10 and 1 now, losing only their first game of the season, and winning every one since. I doubt the streak will continue much longer, but it sure is fun while it is lasting.

I'm still trying to figure out how many people will be at my house for the holiday, and what will be on the menu that day. I don't have to get too caught up in controlling every detail this year, thankfully, because Smith family gatherings are generally potluck and laid-back. Last year I planned all the way down to every snack and beverage for a long weekend, because I was still new to my restrictive diet, and I was going to be at a mountain cabin, away from my routine. With every minute of my life needing to be planned right now, I think I need to keep this upcoming weekend flexible. Remind me of that in three days when I'm freaking out, please?

The Christmas Star... Wars

Inspirational song: Imperial March (John Williams)

When I was a sophomore in high school, wondering how to scrape together the funds to go with my French club for a week in Paris and London for Spring Break, my mother said something I will never forget. As she allowed me to cash in a bond that her honorary grandfather had given me, originally intended to pay for my college, she said, "Mr McCauley would have told us, 'There are more places to learn than in a school.'" (Considering it took me 13 years to pay off the college loans I ended up taking, even that was a significant learning experience. I consider the thought proven correct.) I have worked on that theory for my entire life, ever since. I applied it to my own kids, once taking them out of elementary school for two whole weeks while we drove cross-country to spend my 30th birthday back in Colorado with family, and to take an educational tour of the country while we were at it. The school administrators frowned on us, but I really didn't care. That trip meant far more to us than attendance quotas and standardized tests for the year.

At the risk of sounding like Mr Garrison from South Park, I made sure that I gave my kids a full pop culture education along the way. It was on that same cross country tour that we started drilling them on their rock and roll vocabularies, making sure that they knew their classics and their outliers. (It was also on that trip that my younger daughter first began to tire of that game, sighing and answering every "Who's on the radio now" question with, "I don't know. Pink Floyd?" Every time. It became a thing.) So it really shouldn't come as a shock when I admit that all three times, as the Star Wars prequels were released, both our daughters conveniently had "appointments" that required us signing them out of school a couple hours early on opening day. Yeah, all three movies were horrible disappointments, but it was family time, and it was worth it. (It was worth it to travel back to Colorado to see all three Lord of the Rings movies with the Mr's high school buddies too, but that is a different fandom for a different blog post.)

I will construct this next paragraph very carefully, to avoid spoilers of any kind. I will keep my details vague, as I am wont to do.

Last week, when we finally got around to seeing the last James Bond movie at the town's freshly rebuilt movie theater, we went ahead and bought our opening day Star Wars tickets. We chose an early morning show as much for the availability of decent assigned seats as for the chance to see it before anyone ruined it for us on Facebook. It was a gorgeous morning as we set out, the bright sun offsetting the bitter single-digit temperatures that were lingering from overnight. The theater wasn't overly crowded, and the assigned seating seemed to have provided a relaxed atmosphere in the theater (other than the one doofus who parked his big diesel truck on top of a 3 foot tall snow bank, and later choked the parking lot with thick black smoke while he struggled to get it back out later). It would have been nice if the theater had set up a couple coffee makers for the event, but we can't have everything. There were previews to every single major movie opening in 2016, and about half of the minor ones. Our 9 am show time meant an actual start around 9:25. As for the movie itself? You know I'm not going to ruin it for you. I liked it. Mr S-P was less enthusiastic. I thought it was much more character driven, less about throwing every special effect and action sequence they could think of at the audience. There was only action when there needed to be. No little Anakin in pod races, no clone army that could be turned off with a toggle switch, just to show off CGI. The Mr said that it didn't feel like an original enough story for him, too close to Episodes 4-6. We both agreed that it was way better than Episodes 1-3. I felt like it was exactly the palate cleanser I needed to be willing to go on to an Episode 8, whenever that comes around. In short, unless you absolutely hated the series from the time it premiered in the 70s, go see it. You won't see a single Gungun. My word as a Jedi.