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Sunday . June 15 . 2003 . 11:37am old school Sometimes I think that our dog is really a cat. Here's the evidence: * Sometimes she can be kind of bitchy (heh) and aloof. Like if she doesn't want you to pet her? She'll back away from your hand or move her head just out of reach. * She licks herself clean. * She rubs her face with her paws. * Yesterday, she was playing with a bug, batting it around with her paws, picking it up in her mouth and dropping it back down to continue to torture the damn thing. That seems rather cat-like to me. * She eats fish (but this might not be admissible evidence, as she eats everything else too). Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution rests. * * * Yesterday my sisters came over for dinner, and we made shish-kebobs on the old George Foreman grill. Did I tell you that we have two Foremans? One normal sized one and one mega family-sized one. I think that the first person saw it on our registry list and went to Macy's to purchase it in person (not online) so it didn't get crossed off the list. And then the second person purchased the second Foreman online, thinking that no one had gotten it for us yet. That's the Tale of Two Foremans. I suppose eventually we'll give away the smaller one, maybe when my sister graduates from college and moves into her own place, but for now, we'll keep it around. It'll come in handy for this barbecue that we're planning next week. (Yes, I am aware that, to some, a no-flame barbecue is a travesty. Hank Hill, for instance.) Also, it will come in handy if we ever get really, really hungry and feel like eating ten hamburgers at the same time, not unlike Wimpy from the Popeye cartoons. * * * So I get this e-mail from Coleen a few days ago that simply says, "Are you going?" I had no idea what she was talking about, especially since she lives in San Francisco while I live in New York, so there's almost no event that I can think of that we could casually attend together. But then I scrolled down the message and read the forward, which was some happy happy yee-haw e-mail about how our 5-year college reunion was just around the bend, further updates as events warrant. I don't know why I didn't get that e-mail myself. In truth, though, I probably did, but didn't read it, or deleted it--it amazes me how many pieces of mail I get from Wellesley telling me to give them money when they should know damn well enough that no alum under the age of 40 has any. I e-mailed back saying something to the effect of, "I hadn't really thought about it, it really depends on my work schedule and whether or not I'm taking call that weekend. I guess it could be fun to walk around campus and visit the old haunts, but I don't want to get into a bunch of annoying conversations with people I don't like, and go to one million fundraising-pleas-disguised-as-lecture about multiculturalism or some such thing." The thing about college or high school reunions (and I'm sure this will bear out to be the truth about med school as well), is that everyone that I'm friends with, or with whom I've wanted to remain in touch, I already have. We e-mail, visit each other, hang out (if we're in the same place), keep up. The only thing that these reunions serve to do is bring you back together with people you never really liked that much in the first place. There's also the gossip factor, seeing who got fat/thin/married/divorced/dyed their hair all the wrong color, and just generally snarking about people in hushed tones behind your gin and tonic. That's pretty much what our 5-year high school reunion was like, from what I've been told (I wasn't able to attend, as I was out of town), and that's just five years after graduating HIGH SCHOOL. The truth is, we don't need 5-year high school reunions, because no one is all that different five years after graduating high school. "What have you been doing these past few years?" "Oh, going to college." "Wow, me too." End of conversation. So will I go to my 5-year college reunion? I'm not really sure that I want to. I'm not a schmoozy person by nature anyway, and the thought of deliberately paying money to fly into a weekend of schmoozing just makes me so very, very tired. But I could see it being somewhat enjoyable if the right people go. We could run around, get all the free drinks and food, skip the rest of the planned events, and basically pretend for one short weekend that we are not mature adults with real jobs and responsibilities. Revisit our youths, back in the day when our biggest worries were centered around schoolwork, extracurriculars, and the fast food selection at Schneider's. Or not. I've said it before and I'll say it again--it was fun the first time, but I wouldn't exactly want to do it again. xo Michelle |
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