reunited (cause it feels so good)

I lived through my husband’s 20^th college reunion!  Woot!  Actually, I had a really good time. I was under no pressure to mingle, make conversation, be smart or witty or successful. I was just “the wife.” As long as I looked younger and thinner than his ex-girlfriends I was fine. The weather in Williamsburg was gorgeous…sunny and balmy– not at all like the rain that was predicted, so being outside with the kids was a joy. Sitting on the grass, drinking a cape cod, listening to the alumni band play REM covers, and watching the kids run around in circles.  I was, for the first time in weeks, stress free.

 Saturday night there was an alumni gala at the W&M conference center for all returning graduates. The average age was about 50 or so, and the featured music was an appropriate Motown revue.  That being said, the band that played during their intermission, for 8 brief songs, was the band that stole the show. The Velveteens were a W&M college band and they all graduated around ’99. To say “college band” does them a grave disservice because they were – and still are – awesome. I wrote about them once. Go here to listen to skalicious-ness.  On Saturday night I dressed to impress and wound up kick dancing myself into a cashmere-coated sweat with about five other fans/friends/class of ’99 graduates while men and gray-haired women in Chico’s formal stood around us and watched in amusement. Cashmere has really poor wicking properties, fyi.  And yes, lead singer Wilson, the sustainable/renewable energies consultant and failed jeopardy contestant, could still work a crowd. A few pounds heavier, sure, but the powder blue plaid polyester suit fit and the guys slid on their knees across the dance floor while playing their trombones just  like they did ten years ago. Except probably, with a bit more Advil the next morning.  

After going nuts on the dance floor I sat down at a mostly empty table.  An older woman leaned over and said, “Are you one of us?”  I asked, “”I’m sorry?”  “Are you class of ’74? This is a Class of ‘74 table.”  And yes, it was then that I noticed the silver Mylar “74” balloons anchored to the table with green and yellow sand bags. “Oh, sorry” I joked, “Guess I didn’t see those huge numbered balloons.”  I picked up my drink and left but in my head? I said, “Bitch, PLEASE! Do I look like I’m class of ’74? Honey I was BORN in ’74.” That’s ok. They were old and needed to sit.  Not me, even after jumping up and down and air-punching for 28 straight minutes

In other news, a woman I worked for, a woman with serious substance abuse issues and a medley of mental health disorders, died at 44 of cancer. I am shocked, and saddened. You wish things on people who make your life miserable but in the end, not really. She was an unhappy person for most of her life and I hope that she has found some sort of peace.

Lots of other news, like the construction , my mother’s new hip, good visits from old friends, but now I am racing to clock.  I will try and post more often.   

Comments

[JJ Daddy Baby Momma]

And we will keep checking back. Sounds like a FANTASTIC weekend!