The Reunion, Part One

So, I may have mentioned, my high school reunion was this past weekend. The husband and I packed up and headed an hour away to the site of the reunion.

We got a hotel room (hoo hoo!) and were more excited by the prospect of the time to ourselves than we were by going to my reunion.

I should give some background. As a kid, I moved. A lot. I went to high school in a Small New England City--lived there for three short years. At the time, they did not seem short. It was my LIFE, fer chrissakes, I was a teenager. And, just two days after graduating from High School--two DAYS--we moved. Again.

I was in the throes of young love, and barely seventeen when that June graduation day rolled around, with moving day looming right behind it. At the graduation, between two people with whom I'd never really connected, I sat, waiting for the ceremony to be over. I couldn't wait to get out of there...that city, that High School, that entire scene.

I was ready to start my life, you know. Seventeen, and I had the world by the balls, I tell you!! I'd lined up a full-time job, with benefits, before I graduated. I was going to live at home with my folks, save up some money, and move back to the area and in with my H.S. sweetie when I turned 18.

Well, thank goodness I lived with the guy, because nothing accelerrates the demise of a crappy relationship quite like shacking up. Within three months, I split...and was done with all things associated with said Small New England City High School (SNECHS). That was back in the summer of 1988.

Fast forward to November 2007, scene: Location of the 20th Reunion for SNECHS, this past Friday Night.

The Husband and I arrive...park the car and get out. I take a deep breath of the frosty November air, and we head in to the function facility. I'm all dolled up, but not happy with my appearance--I had put my hair up and wished I hadn't, and I wore one of the tops I brought and wished I had chosen the other one after all. But oh well, who cares? Onward...There's a sign in the foyer of the function hall, directing us to either a birthday party or a High School Reunion.

Trouble was, it wasn't my reunion. We inquire with the coat check person, who blinks and gives us a puzzled look. Enter Function Manager.

I tell her I'm looking for the SNECHS 20th reunion. And she smiles and says,

"Oh, yes, that's tomorrow night."

I burst out laughing. I couldn't believe it--but yet, somehow, I could. I fucked up, that's all! For some reason, though I know that all the info I had indicated Saturday, not Friday, I had it in my head that it was being held on Friday.

So we went out to eat, headed back to the hotel after dinner, got cozy and rented a movie. Whereupon I promptly fell asleep.

Mara + Movie + Bed = Catching Some Z's

Now, I just had to decide what to do about the actual reunion, and the care of my kids on Saturday night...

With my 20th Reunion Just Days Away...

Friday is my 20th High School Reunion...I'm pretty sure I'm going. I bought two tickets, and reserved a swank hotel room. OK, so not swank, but it's got a fridge, a king size bed, and is a corner room--worth every penny of the extra Twenty Bucks!

So anyway, though I've not been agonizing over this--seeing as I've not yet decided for sure that we're going, and all--I am considering it seriously. In anticipation of my possible attendance, however, this past weekend I decided to try out a couple of 'casual' hair-do's for the big night.

And, in an irony that could only have been borne of a history of lame teenage excuses, the following actually did occur:

I burned my neck with the curling iron.

No, really, Dad. I did.

I swear.

Pinkie Swear.

He is NOT a loser. He's not.

He's cute.

and, and...He likes me...

I swear it was the curling iron, Dad.

It was.