The Reunion

I have pictures to share from my 20th high school reunion but that requires me to figure out how to use the scanner with the new Mac which is something I'll work on this weekend. For the moment, we'll have to make do with a text version.

The reunion. In summary: not so bad. Fun, even. As a whole, I'd say the women are holding up better then the men. But everyone looked pretty good. There was no one that made me gasp and say, "What happened to him?"

Most people were recognizable, but nametags helped. But not always. At one point, I went over to say hi to a guy named Gordon. 

"Hi," he said, obviously with no idea who I was.

"Gordon, it's me! Dena. We both played clarinet. Sat by each other in band for three years?"

Nothing. No memory of me whatsoever. But it gets better. At this point, my friend Brett (a girl) came up to us.

"Hi Brett," said Gordon.

"Oh wait, don't tell me your name," said Brett. She stared at him. "I feel like I should know this."

"I took you to prom," said Gordon. 

The great part is, Brett never remembered his name. He had to tell her. Even better, the story circulated through our group and soon guys and girls alike were coming up to Brett and saying, "Hi, remember me? I took you to prom..."

Too funny.

Here's something I found amazing. I'd say a good three-quarters of the women at our reunion were stay-at-home mom's. Most had worked and then stayed home when they had their kids. I don't know why that shocked me, but it did. My friend Trisha asked me if I thought they were wasting their potential and at first I thought that was it, even though it's not PC to admit ti. But on further reflection, it's not that. I'm a big fan of having a parent at home with the kids and I recognize it's the hardest job on the planet. (Hence, my avoidance of it.) But in my mind, these were all still the really smart kids and I went expecting to hear about the great jobs they had and what they'd accomplished and when almost every one to a person said, "I'm a stay at home mom," it threw me. I don't know. I'm not explaining it very well. 

Anyway, the reunion was fun, but it's great to be home. I've got half a dozen projects gasping for attention so I'd better stop blogging and start working. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to go to the reunion. You're right. It was fun.

Speedwork... Sucks

No points for originality in today's blog title but I'm much too tired to care. I drove in 8 hours today from Ohio. I'm at a loss how to explain that it took me under 7 hours to drive to Columbus which is further north than Cincinnati and 8 hours to drive home, but whatever.  

I left Trisha's house at 5 am with the hopes of getting home in time for an extended relaxation period before driving into Greensboro for today's track workout. I made it home but rebelled physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually at the thought of getting back in the car, so I did the workout at home on my treadmill.

I hate speedwork. Just... hate it. All running is hard, but speedwork makes me want to throw my body down in the middle of a run and throw a temper tantrum worthy of a 5 year-old denied her favorite toy. "NO! NO! NO! Wahhhh!" is pretty much my mentality.

As I was heaving through a lap, I decided I needed an attitude adjustment and told myself to think of things I hate worse than speedwork. Maybe it was the lactic acid build-up kicking in, but I only came up with poison ivy, the Republican party, and artificial sweetener before I blanked. 

I'm spending tonight trying to catch up on e-mails and paperwork so I can hit the ground running with work projects tomorrow. Much writing to be done. 

Cheers.

Butt Pads to the Rescue

 Five minutes ago:

"Aunt Di-Di?"

"Yes?"

"Can you help me put in my butt pad?" 

And people wonder why I've chosen not to bear children...

It wasn't as bad as it sounds. Max is 11 and plays football. There is a cushioning apparatus called a "butt pad" that must be shoved down into a miniscule flap of fabric on the (not being worn at the time) male shorts. I shoved and tugged and stretched and hurled curses at the thing until I finally got it down in there. NOT a user friendly piece of attire. 

I'm now on my way to watch twenty-three 11 year old boys hurl themselves at one another while I feign excitement from the sidelines. I am WAY too self-absorbed to ever have kids.

Plus, I just can't get used to those butt pads...

Shopping For My 20th Reunion

Ooh, Momma did some damage in the stores today. I'm not fond of shopping and only go out about twice a year but when I do, I bring back the motherload.

Today started with a visit to my hair dresser for highlights. She then proceeded to blow my hair out perfectly straight. WILD. I kept glancing in the mirror, trying to figure out who I reminded myself of and then it hit me: my sister. We look absolutely nothing alike but with the poker straight hair (sorry, sis) there was actually a resemblance. I'd love to keep the straight hair but it would involve about $80 worth of product and 45 minutes manual labor, daily, to make it happen. I get bored waiting the two minutes for the hot water for my tea to boil, so it's probably not going to happen.

I proceeded to the stores (slowly, blowing straight hair out of my eyes) and paid a visit to Black & White. Found a top that may work for dress-up night although I'm concerned it looks like I'm trying a little too hard. Gold lame doesn't go out of style, does it? (You think I'm kidding...)

On to Ann Taylor where I found a pair of white silk pants that may go with the top but even if they don't, they were on sale and make my ass look fabulous. Sold!

Then to Paparazzi. Overpriced, but I love this store. It's unique clothing that stands out. I found an adorable top, jeans, and earrings for Friday's bar-casual night.

Thank God that's over. I was not looking forward to a week of shopping and I think I got everything I need in under three hours. Sweet.

Now I just need a headband to get this stringy straight hair out of my face. =)