Packing

I don't think there is anything worse than packing for a trip; maybe, unpacking, but that's about it. You'd think that I would be all excited and everything but I always pack way too much. Do I really need a winter parka for a week long visit to the Gulf Coast in mid July? ...maybe. I gotta have something to cover up my virgin white skin and white patches. White patches, you ask? Yep, I've got the Michael Jackson disease that somehow removes the pigment from your skin and leaves a white patch, otherwise known as vitiligo. And you thought he just bleached his skin...shame on you. Anyhow, it's an autoimmune condition common in people with diabetes. Basically, the more I tan elsewhere, the whiter the white patches become. Anyhow, I'm packing for my trip back north of the sweet tea line to see the kids that I graduated with; it's our 25 year reunion. Making matters worse is that I have asked several of my friends what they are wearing to help me decide and to consolidate my packing. The answer to that question is that they didn't know. Nice. That means that I have to pack everything (that still fits) hanging in my closet. I mean, it's not like I can just run out to the mall and pick something up. (The nearest mall is almost 50 miles away...BF Egypt, if you get my drift.) Well, that's it for now. I've procrastinated long enough, and I still don't have anything packed. Can you say road trip?

Graduation Time

It's Graduation Day here in my small town in northern Georgia. I can remember mine just like it was yesterday; or, at least 25 years ago. We graduated on a Sunday and I remember that we were excited about our futures and the endless possibilities. The girls wore white gowns and the boys wore green. Those that were in the National Honor Society accentuated their gowns with gold braided cords that symbolized their excellence over the previous four years. Green, gold and white, those were our school colors. I think the moment that stands out the most at my graduation is when my principal, Mr. Rosselot, pronounced my middle name wrong. It is Mia, like Maya Angelou, not Mia, like Mia Farrow. Sister was quick to voice the correct pronunciation to the whole school so they would never doubt how to say it again. I don't think I realized that I wouldn't see most of those folks again. With the 25 year reunion fast approaching I'm excited about who might be there. Where had they been? What things had they done? What were their memories of me, and me of them? Were they happy? I was also upset at my graduation. Not just because of the sadness I felt about leaving my friends but because of what was going on at home. Throughout my senior year, Mom was under intense pressure at work, with the closing of her factory and being transferred out of state, to Georgia of all places. At the time, we thought Georgia was clear across the country, not the 7-8 hour car ride it turned out to be. I graduated on Sunday, and Mom left for Georgia the next day. We have always joked that the kids are supposed to grow up and move away, not the other way around.

Plenty Of Time

I've had twenty-five years to plan and be ready for my 25th high school reunion. If you look over to the right side of the blog you can see that I placed a new counter. It tells me that I have a little over thirty days left. Did I plan accordingly? (no) Did I lose my stop smoking weight gain? (no) Have I become a published author yet? (sorta) Did I do everything I said I wanted to? (who can remember) Have I changed much? (Depends on how you define change; I'm in year 3 of the change) How many wrinkles do I have? (a few) Have you concocted a Michelle & Romy story about creating PostIts so you don't look like a failure? (working on it) Are you sure you are having a reunion? (I think so. I mention it on Facebook and people literally shrink away in horror and revulsion.) Will the old high school still be standing by the time you get there? (I sure hope so) Will the old clicks and groups still be intact? (I hope not. I didn't drive 500 miles to put up with junior high drama--get over it already.) How many people will show up? (Good question. We had 64 people in my class. Maybe 20) How many reunions have you been to? (Two. Tenth and twentieth. I was drunk and smoked at one and smoked at the other. Now, I don't do either.) One last question. (okay) Are you still excited about going?