So. Freaking. Excited.

If you hadn't guessed, I'm a bit excited for May 22. Yes, it's the day before our 5 year anniversary (also excited for that, dear, haven't forgotten...), but it's also the end of a 19 year wait for the return of my childhood hero and idol, Indiana Jones. You must check out the new trailer at the official website (under video>trailers).

I wish I had photographs (though, perhaps I should be glad that I do not) to establish a history that would give you some insight into the excitement I feel for this movie. Imagine an 8-year-old Timmy Anderson-- having watched Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom so many times that the tape is visibly worn thin at any parts where human hearts are extracted (while still beating, of course) or chilled monkey brains are served with a side of Snake Surprise-- anxiously awaiting the third installment of the trilogy, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Finally, we found out how Indy got the scar on his chin! Why he's afraid of snakes! How he came to be called Indiana!

I had a denim jacket that I pretended was made of leather. I had a shoulder bag purchased from an army surplus store in which I would carry my Sankara Stones, found in various rock piles. I had a whip crafted from rope by an uncle. I had grass stains on my bottom from trying-- and invariably failing-- to whip onto and swing from tree branches in our back yard. My sister and I explored our neighbor's overgrown yard, looking for adventures of Indianic proportions. I even found a fedora at a yard sale that fit just right. No dollar store costume for me; I had the real deal.

The first movie my parents took me to see in the theater was Raiders of the Lost Ark, which was released three months and two days after I was born. Is it coincidence that Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is being released just short of my first son's three month birthday? I'm sensing a tradition growing here...

So, wherever you are on May 22, think of me, curled up in a giddy ball in a darkened theater, watching my childhood hero, wishing I still had that 20-year-old army surplus bag to hold my jumbo popcorn and junior mints.