My 50th high school reunion was this weekend but I didn’t go. I’m sure I would have enjoyed seeing a few classmates I actually remember from way back then, but I skipped it, as well as my 45th. I’ll let my re-post from my 40th reunion explain…
I went to my 40th high school reunion Friday night. Hard to believe that much time has passed. Even harder to believe I decided to go. You see, it’s a fact I have no memory and haven’t seen most of these folks since I was a pimply-faced 17-year-old. Odds are I wouldn’t recognize a soul.
It might have helped if everyone wore a photo of their senior portrait. Still, for me that wouldn’t have been enough. Their name needed to be included. Those little tricks might have increased my odds to a 10% recognition factor.
Three friends and I went to Lake Tahoe last month to cheer for our friend Patti; she rode 100 miles in the 22nd annual ‘America’s Most Beautiful Bike Ride’ for the Leukemia Foundation ‘Team in Training.’ I’m exhausted just thinking about it. Patti trained for months to complete the ride so we went to support her at the finish, whether she crawled or rode across. Continue reading →
I have a lot of people fooled because many are under the assumption I’m a sweet and kind person who probably doesn’t swear or even gossip. Boy are those people mistaken. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I’m a total bitch or anything, although I know some who disagree. You’ll meet them later.
I think I’m a decent human being. But if you continually aggravate me, all bets are off. And swearing? If you were a fly stuck in my car, you’d raise your eyebrows (if flies had eyebrows) with what emerges from these thin lips of mine as I rant over perceived inept drivers.
Let me out! This woman is crazy
And gossip? Guilty as charged. To demonstrate, I’ll quote a line from the movie, Steel Magnolias…
They say bad things happen in threes. And to that I say,Pshaw! Who are “they” anyway? Because I’d like to have a word with them. I’m here as living proof that bad things can happen in fours, fives, and for poor saps like me, let’s talk nines.
It started when, unbeknownst to me, my kitchen faucet started to leak (bad thing #1). How am I to know it was slowly dripping under the cabinet? Unfortunately, I rarely look under there. Turns out it holds stuff I didn’t know I had. Like how often do you use sterling silver polish? Me? Let’s say never. And here’s my proof.
Recently I took my sister, who is camera shy, to dinner for her 70th birthday. How quickly time flies, especially the older we get. Time just marches on, doesn’t it? What other analogies can I abuse? Okay, okay I’ll spare you. But let’s just say it was a strange evening.
Vicki’s favorite restaurant is Marin Joes, a 69-year-old Italian eatery where reservations are only for parties of seven or more. So to get a table, you have to get there early or head to their bar and drink for an hour. Now don’t get me wrong — that’s not a deal breaker.
This place is like a Taylor Swift concert; there’s never an empty seat and it fills up fast. So when we arrived at 5:30, it was already nearly full. Vicki started the evening with a margarita and yours truly had a vodka martini, two olives please. A while later I heard what sounded like back slapping, probably a friend greeting the elderly man at the table behind me. But as it turns out, he was choking on a piece of steak!
His frantic daughter pounded on his back while yelling, “I need help here!” So I jumped out of my chair, although what I planned to do is beyond me since I last took CPR in high school. Our waiter rushed over but the daughter had already switched to the Heimlich (aka abdominal thrusts) and BINGO, out flew a chunk of steak.
When dad and daughter left, a man and a woman sat at their table as our waiter delivered Vicki her steak and pasta and my scallops with pasta.
As I cut up Vicki’s steak (she has limited use of her hands), the evening became stranger than the nearly-choking-to-death elderly man. While eating, I saw out of the corner of my eye a small white plate near my head, hovering there like a UFO. I turned and saw the man from the table behind me holding his bread plate out toward Vicki. I smiled and said, “Very funny.” But he didn’t move nor say a word. He just kept holding out the plate.
So my sister says, “Do you want some steak?” I didn’t hear a response but Vicki added, “You can have some. Hand me your plate.” I glanced behind me and saw the woman at their table smiling like this was a regular occurrence. Vicki put a couple slices of steak on his plate then I handed it to him. Still, he never said a word. I thought, could he be deaf? Or maybe mute?
As Vicki and I continued our conversation, I sensed someone standing near me. Yep, it was the same man. As I looked up at him, he stared down at me (or maybe at my plate) and before I knew what was happening he reached down, grabbed a scallop, popped it in his mouth, then went back to his table.
For once in my life I was speechless. Just then, an employee came over and asked, “Did that man take food off your plate?” I nodded, still in shock. I felt like I was on Candid Camera, the long-running TV program where unsuspecting people are placed in confusing and embarrassing situations while being secretly recorded with hidden cameras.
Anyway, as I paid our bill, I noticed Marin Joe’s kindly deducted our cocktails. I also noticed the man now stood at a table of 6 men having dinner who looked like ex-football players. They stared up at him, bewildered, while he mutely stared back. Fortunately, he was wise enough (or now sober enough) to walk back to his table.
After that night, I came to this conclusion: I definitely need to learn CPR and maybe sign language as well.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 