Rio will have to wait. I finally overcame assorted qualms and committed to attending my high school reunion. Or should I say High School Reunion. Now that I'm going, my stomach feels hollow, like I'm about to jump off the highest diving board. (I might just be hungry.) A bungee jump is the apter analogy, however, because I will come back from this event, no matter how rewarding or gloomy it proves. Even a bellyflop only hurts for a minute or so. You, lucky blog-reader, have a front-row seat to my odyssey, should you wish to check in on its progress next weekend.
As my good pal and former dorm neighbor JB sentimentally observed, though I may not want to see most of these people, they are like my brothers and sisters, because we all lived together and experienced fundamentally the same things. Ha. Ha. Call me Cinderfella. Hey, lady!
Your faithful correspondent will not be reporting on the "Golf Outing at the W. Country Club" scheduled for Friday the 13th, but can hardly wait for that night's "Mardi Gras Style Kick-off Dinner for All Reunion Classes." Oh, the fun we will have. Oh, the fun.
In any case, life goes on and I'm sure this topic will be lost amid the swirling sands of ephemera by next week.
Point of Order: Yes, I realize this post is a "stream of revealing details about the author's own daily life," something explicitly forbidden by the LordZim by-laws. I am making an exception to the rules for the sake of keeping this thing interesting. It's an experiment. If you object, go explore the archives, which are rich with impersonal observations.
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Thursday, May 05, 2005
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