Today is the twelfth Marriage Conference. It is still as freshly rejuvenating as it was the first time, albeit less exhausting. The excitement for me begins long before I arrive at the venue. It is tucked into months of conversations with presenters, babysitters, volunteers, and caterers as we bang out the particulars. While it may seem odd to suggest that the preparation is as rich as the actual event, that is how it feels. 

There are children who've been coming for years whose parents have recently decided that they've graduated from watchee to watcher. That means they get paid. For them the notion of a hundred grown ups gathering in one place for the express purpose of strengthening their resolve is old news. That could bode well for them one day when their own relationships flounder. Which they will. 

John will be dazzling the kids with a magic show. Along with his three foot long pencil that draws in an over sized coloring book, and the ropes-through-the-coat trick, he will turn three raw eggs into baby chicks. They are blue gray Silkies  hatched just this week, and will happily perform in exchange for food. I am not into fortune telling but it is a safe bet that the crowds will go wild. 

The fancy dinner at Cairnwood Estate already happened last weekend, and was as close to a perfect evening as I can imagine. Twenty five couples leaned in to chat over salmon and salad, mushroom caps, and gluten free cupcakes with cream cheese icing. The musicians filled the halls with gaiety and sweet harmonies. 

Folks are traveling from Canada, Georgia, Rhode Island and California to attend, bringing their experience with them. The possibilities for cross fertilization of ideas and commitment make me want to dance. Which come to think of it I will.