Winter is here.

I know, it’s July, but I’m talking about Game of Thrones, Season 7. It starts on Sunday, a date I have down on my calendar, although there’s no way I’m going to forget it. The whole family is hopped up about it, and maybe that’s one of the reasons I’m such a fan. We have all been watching it since its debut in 2011. Aidan was in his last year of high school, and Ronan was 13, which, now that I think about it, was probably a bit young for a show that involves violence, torture and incest. Oh well. Too late now.

Part of the show’s appeal is that we watch it live and together, when we can. It’s been a Sunday night staple from the get go. We were together when (spoiler alert) Ned Stark lost his head, and I remember us all leaping to our feet and screaming “NO! NOOOOOO!!” at the Red Wedding, while John chuckled because he had read the books and knew what was coming. Both boys have persuaded their girlfriends to get on board, and they’ve made their way through 6 seasons to get up to speed. We have intense discussions about what has and will happen in Westoros: when will Daenayris get to King’s Landing? Who is next on Arya’s kill list? Will Jamie ever turn against Cersei? Is the Iron Throne as uncomfortable as it looks?

In all honesty, we tend to get on board a lot of fantasy franchises. We own all the Star Wars movies in every format. Same with the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and don’t even get me started on Harry Potter. I had to buy 4 copies of the later books because we all had to read them as soon as they came out, and then see the movies on the very days of their release. Obviously a family trip to Comic Con San Diego is in our future. After all, what young adult doesn’t want to go to a convention with their parents dressed as Wonder Woman and Jon Snow?

This Sunday, however, poses a wee problem. John and I stay at the cottage until Monday morning. We have a TV there, and a satellite dish (“heresy!” calls my mother-in-law from her grave,) but I’m not sure we get HBO. The other option is that we record it in the city, and watch it Monday night, but what if we get in a car accident or war breaks out? In real life, I mean? The struggle is real. The fantasy, however, is not.

Bring on the dragons and boobies show. We’re ready.

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