Where I could be right now is my 25th High School reunion. Where I am right now is in front of my computer preparing this post. “Clickmom!” one might admonish, “You should have gone to the reunion!” “But,” but I would sputter right back at you, “I have too much on my plate! And mom and dad both have cancer! And grandma doesn’t feel well for like a whole a week now and I don’t think she is faking! And I am so tired all of the time! And I can barely smile these days! And I’m growing my hair out for that wig for cancer kids thing! And there is that very large issue of the very large amount of weight I have regained!” and that last lame excuse is pretty much the nail in the coffin for my lack of reunion enthusiasm. I mean, it’s great to see old friends when the weight is on the way down and I am feeling fabulous, but when the weight is reaching new never before seen heights, well, I just feel as attractive as Jabba the Hut these days and I don’t want to share that vibe with people who might remember me as simply a little chubby (or maybe zoftig if they had a crush on me or something) and definitely in better spirits then the ones I exude these days. Besides, I told myself that I would go to the reunion if my 3 favorite girlfriends were going to be there and I emailed all of them and they all weren’t going to go (but all wanted to get together for lunch one day). I guess I hung out with a bunch of other non-reunion types.
Instead of drinking way too much with people that I barely remember tonight I enjoyed a Bill Cosby stand up routine special with my whole family. Then I laughed with them some more during dinner when the conversation card of the day asked the best and worst thing about your place in the birth order, and we all turned to Evan who thinks being the middle child is punishment every second of his life. We watched him squirm, gently teased him and had a well deserved good laugh calling both Evan and me out about our more endearing qualities which make us such special people. Then Josh played piano for us all and Evan and I practiced on our guitars before we did some sit ups on exercise balls (I kicked his butt) and now I am blogging. And I am very happy with my decision not to go.
In 15 more minutes I’ll be warm and snuggly in my bed and no one who knew me 25 years ago will know that right now I am the saddest person who graduated in 1982 who can still appreciate every sweet second with the next generation and every minute I have left with the generation that came before me. And that was really what I needed to do tonight.
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