Memory, all alone in the moonlight

These last few days have been a veritable plethora of reminiscent moments. I have spent more time laughing, crying and thinking back about my child/teenage-hood than I have in a long time.

It started Wednesday when I visited Todd's blog and found a post he'd written about our glory days back in Competitive Speech. Then he wrote another one on Thursday. Then he continued on Friday by bringing up old SNL skits and competitive speech quotes (that I still use to this day, btw). Tonight I went to his blog and promptly laughed so loudly that Paul paused the PS2. He never pauses the PS2 unless it's to yell at one of the kids or to ask me to get him some food. So I know I laughed extra loud. But you gotta admit....seeing a picture like this is enough to make anyone laugh. Especially when you are the main dork in the picture, wearing a really stupid-looking white dress, sporting really big hair and GINORMOUS glasses, looking like you are about to have your heart ripped from your chest because some dude in a Cosby sweater is about to steal your precious Green Teddy and some other dude in equally ginormous glasses is swooping in behind you for what reason you're just not sure.



Man, those were the days.


Then Thursday night while I was out here on the computer the internet answering machine picked up a call from a cell number I didn't recognize. The message was from a gal saying she graduated with Paul and wanted to get our address because she was rounding up all of their classmates for the Alumni Banquet at our alma mater. I was confused for a moment until she said, "...because it's our 25th year out of school." So I laughed and walked into the living room and very nonchalantly asked my husband, "Who's Kelly Durborough?" No response. Again, I asked, "Honey, who's Kelly Durborough?" Nothing. But I could see he was looking a little uncomfortable. I know that his ex-fiance's (the one that robbed him blind one night while he was passed out drunk because she broke his heart, but let's not go there) name is Kelly and was trying to make him think I was talking about her. It was working. Finally as I stood there tapping my foot he asked, "Why?" I was having too much fun, but instead of making him mad I just said, "Oh she just called. Because you, my dear husband, have been out of school TWENTY FIVE YEARS and she's wanting you to go to the Alumni Banquet."

He didn't even pause the PS2 to say, "Bite me. You'll be there in ten years, smart one."

So I called Kelly Durborough back to give her our correct address, reminisce a little with her and then tell her that yes, we would be attending even though Paul was yelling from the living room, "I am NOT going to that stupid banquet!" Oh, he's going. By cracky, it's my 15th year out of school and his 25th. We will attend that banquet and stand up with our classes and see our old classmates and then quite possibly go get drunk because we'll be feeling really old and fat. Or maybe that will just be me. But I digress.

After my phone call with the lovely Kelly Durborough, I got out his senior yearbook - the yearbook wherein I was in Kindergarten, mind you - and we proceded to spend the next hour and a half walking down Memory Lane, hand in hand, laughing, crying a little and definitely waxing sentimental. Okay, he never cried, just for the record. I teared up once or twice, though.

And dang, I was a cute Kindergartener. He, however, was a shaggy-headed Senior. It's a good thing I wasn't looking for a husband back then, you know, when I was 5. I would've passed him right on by.

Then today I got an email from my first husband's current wife. You know, my first husband Brian Highfill, the one I married 23 times at the school carnival marriage booth in the second grade. Yeah, his wife. I'm glad that if I couldn't have him - because ultimately his father was going to find me a husband - that she could, because she seems really nice. I'm just glad she wasn't emailing me so she could hunt me down and kick my butt for marrying her husband back in the 2nd grade. Some women can be touchy about stuff like that. For the record, Beckie, I never kissed him. That was back when kissing was gross.