Skool days
A couple of nights ago I was on the phone with Dawn. We had our high school yearbooks out (we graduated together) and were talking about who we remember and who we don’t, things written in the books, etc. Kevin found my yearbook on the bed this morning and started looking through it. There's one picture in a collage-type page that was lighter than the rest of the pictures on that page. Kevin said, "I guess that picture is still popping up. We need to wait for it." I didn't understand what he meant, but after the third time he went back to that picture and said the same thing, I realized he thought it was a Polaroid instant photo that hadn't finished developing yet. D’OH! I told him the yearbook is kinda old and if it hadn’t developed by now, it ain’t gonna.
Remember those Polaroid cameras?
I had one. It was extremely cool. Wave of the future! Just like our Betamax and Intellivision
So yeah, the high school yearbook. It’s fun to look at it and see the familiar faces and read what people wrote in it. But then it hits me: this book is twenty years old. T-W-E-N-T-Y. That means I graduated from high school twenty years ago. That’s very old-sounding. I don’t feel old, and I’ve been told I don’t look old, but high school being that long ago seems old.
Shit.
And high school being twenty years ago means that our twenty-year reunion is coming. October 4. In some bar I’ve never heard of in Palatine. I’m going. (And you’re going too, right Dawn? Remember, kidless night with booze). I didn’t make it to the ten-year, so I haven’t seen many of these people since June of 1988. Will any of them remember me? I remember almost everyone - I’m blessedcursed with a very long memory. And it’s okay if that remembrance isn’t reciprocated - I don’t expect it really.
As the reunion date gets closer, I may or may not obsess over *the* question: what am I going to wear?? I was talking to old friend Sue the other day and she mentioned how she remembers what she wore her first day of freshman year and how important that kind of stuff was. I just hope that whatever it is I end up wearing to the reunion, it’s a smaller size than what fits over the Giant Arse right now. And whatever it is, I will find the perfect pair of happy-feet Birkenstocks to go with it:
(Yep, those are all Birks)
And if the chosen attire just screams for high heels (I do not heart heels, Sam I am) then these might do:
I will call these the “Holy Batshit!” shoes.
Relay is tonight. Still working on donations.
Pictures of Miminess may or may not be taken.
Remember those Polaroid cameras?
I had one. It was extremely cool. Wave of the future! Just like our Betamax and Intellivision
So yeah, the high school yearbook. It’s fun to look at it and see the familiar faces and read what people wrote in it. But then it hits me: this book is twenty years old. T-W-E-N-T-Y. That means I graduated from high school twenty years ago. That’s very old-sounding. I don’t feel old, and I’ve been told I don’t look old, but high school being that long ago seems old.
Shit.
And high school being twenty years ago means that our twenty-year reunion is coming. October 4. In some bar I’ve never heard of in Palatine. I’m going. (And you’re going too, right Dawn? Remember, kidless night with booze). I didn’t make it to the ten-year, so I haven’t seen many of these people since June of 1988. Will any of them remember me? I remember almost everyone - I’m blessedcursed with a very long memory. And it’s okay if that remembrance isn’t reciprocated - I don’t expect it really.
As the reunion date gets closer, I may or may not obsess over *the* question: what am I going to wear?? I was talking to old friend Sue the other day and she mentioned how she remembers what she wore her first day of freshman year and how important that kind of stuff was. I just hope that whatever it is I end up wearing to the reunion, it’s a smaller size than what fits over the Giant Arse right now. And whatever it is, I will find the perfect pair of happy-feet Birkenstocks to go with it:
(Yep, those are all Birks)
And if the chosen attire just screams for high heels (I do not heart heels, Sam I am) then these might do:
I will call these the “Holy Batshit!” shoes.
Relay is tonight. Still working on donations.
Pictures of Miminess may or may not be taken.