A little...

Tuesday for ya. Hot here in Dallas. Around 98 or so with heat index of 104.

However all is well. A/C cranks out the cool air. Taking a break from school. Well, for a night anyway.

A new class, started today--and I don't have to do anything in it, until tomorrow. So a break is needed. Oh the last class, which ended yesterday, couldn't end soon enough. I will get my lowest grade in that class. With no PC, no camaraderie within our Team projects, my not turning in some projects--even tho I enjoyed the subject matter, the situation stunk. I counted down seconds to the five weeks' end. So a new class. A new vigor. I want my "A" back. Stay tuned.

Seems like alot has happened. I am so glad I headed to Iowa. Granted, when I was about 10 miles away from my hometown, my chum Deb was on the phone telling me the turn out wasn't like they thought--GREAT. All in all it didn't matter--I had a BLAST. I think I told you, I had lunch with a classmate, here in Dallas, last week, didn't I?

We knew each other in high school, yet not close buds or anything. We had a nice chat at the Reunion. And he lives about 20 minutes from me. What was neat for me, and maybe him too, was being able to chat with somebody who knew you 'before'--From high school, anyway and able to talk about today and tomorrow. I love the chums I've made in Dallas, although there's something to be said to chat with someone who recalls a little past moment in time--just like you do--just "before."

Food was good too.

Like Before

Horses, a dog, corn fields and my orange car. Iowa. Screams IOWA, huh? You may need to click on it, to biggify it. Well, maybe all except the orange car aka my Pumpkin. This was snapped at a chum's house. They have 5 acres of mowable yard, the rest somebody farms on. They live on a gravel road. I'd forgotten how tricky gravel can be--if you go a bit too fast--trust me.

Iowa. This is the first visit, since my dad's passing in 2001, that the visit home felt different. It felt good. See, even tho Iowa was my home, I had no home to go to. My dad wasn't there to great me with his infamous King Edward cigar in his mouth. Would be an emotional roller coaster, the few times I did go back to Iowa. A classmate, who lives in Iowa, still says it's sometimes hard for her to come to our hometown, because her parents are gone too. I thought I was alone--yet more and more adult children, more so those who have moved away, experience this. I still have friends and other family---however it just wasn't the same.

This trip tho--I didn't feel all the emotion. Sure, I cried when I headed out to the cemetery to see my parents' graves. I told them I still wanted to make them so proud. Outside of that--I felt closure. All was OK.

In fact, I had the BEST time in Iowa, I'd had in a long, long time. I was asked if I would ever move back. I don't know. Being there, did feel right. Maybe because all the classmates, back for the reunion, knew me 'before'. Knew me from the first. And I liked that.

Lots to ponder as I drove south on I-35 and smiled when I finally saw this sign:

Would I move back? No clue.

I do know, I have lunch tomorrow with a classmate who's lived in Dallas, maybe just a bit longer than I have. We hadn't seen each other in a few years until this past weekend. Sadly he's now a widower. Our Saturday night chat was filled with sweetness, fun, and laughs.

Just like I remember.

Just like before.

2:37 AM

Yes that is the time at this moment. Reunion stuff Saturday night and I had a ball! Had a great time Friday night, yet I was so weary from my gazillion mile drive from Dallas--which will be in another post--not just now.

Tonight. The conversations I carried on were more in-depth than, "How are you and where are you now?" like before. Conversations about life, laughs and fun arguments about music. Made some memories tonight. I smile now. OK--yea, I gained weight and was a bit antsy about. I admit it. However, I was stunned and humbled from words by my classmates--some I didn't even know as well as others. Amazed,

The question of "have you written another book?" waltzed thru the air so much, I had to sit a dance or two out. My answer of "no" wasn't what my classmates wanted to hear. I was shocked by the repetitiveness of the question. Was I being told something?

Two pictures snapped I will forever cherish. In fact, I have a picture with each guy from the few past reunions. Kind of like my scrapbook as I told them. As we stood, for our photo opt, I realized how much our lives have forever changed: me with my little open heart surgery adventure, while one guy is in remission for lung cancer and the other for leukemia. Yes, life as changed since strolling down that high school hallway...

Tonight was special. I'm glad I drove the gazillion miles to get her. Memories were made. I smile at that. And will give me pause to ponder as I drive back to Dallas.

Now I must hit the hay--There will be a reunion float in the 4th of July parade at noon. I intend to be ON ...

Glory be to God is all I can say ...

Just a bit

Wanted to check in. Work has been interesting as we head into our first Month End that matters as we strive to make bonu$. My boss, who is nice eye candy, and I still don't much eye to eye. We tease and such, yet outside of that--I can't just get behind a guy who says, "We have to crawl" to get to the next step of our jobs. There's no "Let's fly! Let's see how high we can go. or even take a bigger step' Nope--it's "crawl"---and I asked him the other day if he thought he was a motivator. He said he was. My guess is if you're about 22. I'm just learning to remain quiet.

Anyway, there's--the writers' conference I volunteer for is this Saturday. Plus, I got great news, I'm eligible for a $1000 grant for school. And the all 70's Reunion for my high school is over the 4th of July. How long have I known about this? Since before school and work became major factors. I don't want to spend the money to go--even tho it would be a blast--and I don't want to drive 750 miles, unless a cheap air fare comes into play. Yea, it would be fun. Lots of fun. I don't want to spend the dough. So stay tuned.

I've thought about men who came in and out of my life. I'd like to get married--no, I'd like to have fun date with a man who actually does OK with cats--I need to find a vet to date! :)

Stay tuned.

January 19, 1974 was Saturday

And I went to my first real time high school dance. It was held at our town's Armory after a high school basketball game, which my diary tells me. was a loss. However, the next line tells me the dance was BEAUTIFUL. I actually wrote it in caps. Too funny!

First I wonder who got us TO the Amory, because neither I or my possee had a driver's license yet. And I doubt we walked, because it was January in Iowa afterall. Even if the Armory was just a few blocks away.

But the dance. My first ONE! So psyched. I'm sure I wondered if I would even dance with anyone. My diary tells me, I danced with a guy from my French class, three times. I was horrible to him in French class--you see, during a speech I called him a 'cochon'--which was pig. My teacher wasn't amused, but he was. Wonder what ever happened to him? I also wrote how this other guy I danced with, jetted around the floor like a turkey--just all over the place. You ducked to make sure he didn't bop you in the head with his arms. Sweet guy tho. Even found me when he heard about my book I self published. Very sweet indeed.

Yet the night belonged to a guy I had such a mad crush on. In fact, mentioned him on the blog a few times. We reconnected, years later, at our 20th Reunion. He lived in Chicago by then. However, this night in 1974, all my dreams came true when we danced--twice. The second dance wound up being the last dance of the night. I wanted to put my arm around him, I wrote. He called me by my first name. Melted, I did. Back then, I had a nickname I still hear when I head home, but to hear my actual name uttered from HIS lips, while a chat over a can of soda pop? I floated higher than the clouds. I felt like a princess eventho my gown was faded blue jeans, and tennis shoes.

During our 20th Reunion tryst, Chicago Chum wondered how it would have been different if I'd told him my feelings. He said he never realized I was crazy about him. I guess that's what writing fiction is for--to have the stories come out the way you want.

I smile at the memories my diary made me remember.

Now cue up Steve Miller and "The Joker"--it had been #1 a week before the dance. Don't know if it was played that night in 1974, I just know I like the song.

Seven Months

From this day--will be my birthday.

Ha! Folks who have known me forever will shout in unison, "ALREADY?" You see, I would start the countdown to my birthday in December--right after another chum's birthday, because mine was next. Had the exact day count and all. Well, folks can heave a sigh of relief--for now anyway. :)

Being kinda reflective. In seven months I'll be a year older. Wonder where I'll be--professionally and personally. Part of me would like to have the cash to get some home in the boonies--well, not that far from the boonies thatI can't get to a Target or Wal-mart--but far enough-I'd have some space. A chum of mine has a house, where all his neighbors' backyards face a foresty area and the creek. It's smack dab in the middle of the town. I love his. Rustic, yet close to the Barnes and Noble, yet space enough for maybe the adoption children I've thought about.

Anyway, just to think of what can be, what is and what I want. Which of course, not what He knows I need. Big difference.

In seven months, I'll be in the midst of Dancing With the Stars part II and American Idol. Hey, I'm addicted to both those shows. Also, will be wondering how long the Dallas Mavericks will play that season. Play offs start in April. In seven months, I wonder what kind of job I'll be doing. Will I have sold some writing and/or finished a book in time for that summer's All 70's Reunion at my Iowa High School?

In seven months I'll smile how three weeks before my birthday, it was my fourth anniversary of that pesky open heart surgery. Where my scar dares daily dares to remind me of. How I've lived to see another year and splurge at Burger Island--the best burger place in Dallas.

Yea, in seven months I'll still pet a cat. However on this September 8 night, I wait my pizza to pop from the oven.

Hey, I can be reflective, serious and all tha, but the timer signals be back to the present.

In seven months, I know I'll still be blessed.

Friday Fuel

Alumni of my High School are in the midst of putting together a reunion for 4th of July 2010.

Why so far away?

Because the reunion is for all graduating classes of the BEST decade ever: 1970's! Even tho our town is small, I didn't know everybody! A good chunk, but not all. Will be great time had by all.

Right now the Alumni are on the search to get us a good 70's band. Hey, I put my vote in for Three Dog Night. I mean, every class from the BEST decade ever (aka the 1970's) can hum a little Three Dog Night. Alas, they may be out the realm of our wallet's reach.

A girl CAN dream---4th of July 2010, is still a few weeks off! :)

In the meantime, it's Friday finally, so lets cue Three Dog Night as we heard them in the 70's. Before video or CD. When vinyl and having an 8 track were the only games in town--like the way I listened to Cory Wells say: Let Me Serenade You-with my eyes shut and smile on my face.

Enjoy!

April 22, 1971 -Earth Day- was Thursday

Earth Day was two years old as I curved to the end of my 7th grade year. Honestly, I can't recall hoopla for Earth Day in 1971. I'm sure there was. To save our planet, when I bet there was more of it to save, in 1971, struck a cord-like it does now.

I do remember in some class we drew posters for Earth Day. And that might have even been the day, my mom drove my best friend and me to school. About two blocks away from the junior high, my best friend and I realized we were suppose to WALK in celebration for Earth Day. So Mom dropped us off and we journeyed the two blocks. Laughed about it too, as 7th grade girls do. .

I do remember two things from that day: A longer walk and Boys.

Since I was in 7th grade, things began to look good. Boys, that is--NOT the longer walk

The entire junior high, which numbered about 300 or so, were released early so we could walk to our town's park for an Earth Day Celebration. Folks spoke how significant the day was and I believe the celebration concluded with a tree being planted.

I stood there, during celebration with hurt feet. Blisters had puffed up on the back of my heels. Plus, the bottom of my shoes were slick, hence I slipped alot on the pavement. Since my best friend and I forgot to walk to school, I hadn't worn better walking shoes. If I stepped just right, I'd slip. A couple times I had to catch myself before I fell.

And boys. The other thing I DO remember. Had such a gi-normus crush one guy! In fact, I've mentioned him in one of these entries. Anyway, as we began our trek home after the celebration, I got so giddy, because the object of my desire walked just steps from me. He and a couple other guys called me by my nickname at the time: Mad Dog (that's another post!). Heaven! True HEAVEN, I was! The guy smiled. So did I. Me: all smug, flirty and show off.

Right up to the moment I slid and the pavement introduced itself to my butt.

The object of my desire laughed. My best friend laughed. And I tried to laugh it off. Yet secretly happy I wore culottes (you're 'seasoned' if you know what they are!)instead of a skirt when I hit the skid.

After all these years, I may still have a teeny scar from that fall. I could have broken my leg for all I cared, because the object of my desire flashed the biggest smile and I just knew it would be the start of something BIG!

OK. So it wasn't until 20th High School Reunion before our first ever date.

I digress.

Trees take their time too.

Take care of our Earth. It's the only one we've got.

I snapped this picture in 1972. Alot of Earth's great gifts!

Just To Know

Me and Movie Man on his last day. I realize I either bust the camera (It's mine) or shoot the co-worker who took it--maybe both. So filled with grain and peach fuzz. Guess we'll just need to take another one. Movie Man, I'm sure, just rolled his peepers. Just to know him as I do.

Movie Man left today. It won't really hit me until Tuesday--after we speak Monday night how his first day went at Movie Man's new job. How it went for me as he wasn't at his old job. Will sink in --kinda like the Titanic-when I don't feel Movie Man's shoulder squeeze as he paces by. Like he did as he exited today at Stage I M Gone For Good. Just to know.

The day wound up being more emotional for Movie Man than he realized. The good bye from the comfortable to the hello of the unknown. Tonight, as I ate a salad which nearly cost a second mortgage (I love you Celebrity Bakery--however after tonight I will stay with just the bakery part--I digress) tried to reassure Movie Man he's doing the right thing. He tried to reassure me it's my time to finally fly. All my kids have flown from the nest. Just to know me as he does.

Our friendship has been the most different and most in-depth I've experienced, in a very long time. Some scenarios were not too pretty. Folks at work knew when we fought. While other scenarios we even surprised ourselves. Movie Man is the little brother I never had or ever really wanted. Both of us spoiled only children. Stubborn.

I realized tonight, I remind Movie Man too much how he was born three months after I graduated from high school. He's taught me everything movie box office since about 1979. And just shakes his head when I can't remember the first movie we saw together. I just remembered it took about six months to get him to agree to even have a first movie together.

This movie is far from finished. Pop more corn and hold the credits.

Just to know: I am blessed.

In 1958, February 6 was a Thursday

A baby girl with the middle name of Michelle was born. As we shared the same grade school classrooms, I remember Michelle’s curls and softer than a whisper voice. I was so amazed teachers could hear her answers. But then she was the smartest girl in class. So maybe in envy, I blocked her out. :)

In grade school, Michelle's birthday was the first of three in February. Another girl was born on Lincoln’s birthday, and another on the 16th. My classmates, who read this, will shake their heads I recall such things. Maybe the sugar buzz from all those cupcakes keeps those memories fresh.

Through junior high (it was junior high to us, not middle school), folks started to grow up and learn about themselves. Sometimes you grow together or grow apart. The best part: you could grow back together again. That’s what happened with Michelle and I both shared a class a particular class upon our entry to high school: French.

Her French name was her middle name, except pronounced, “MEE-chelle.” As we fractured the language, there would be some words that made it into our everyday vocabulary. All us French students enjoyed the toss of words or phrases to each other in the hallway, because we loved the bewildered looks on non-French students’ faces. C’est vrai! Bon Chance! S’il te plait! Je suis faituge! Au revoir!

Tiens! Tiens! Tiens! Became the words Michelle and I said each time on contact. Always tuttered three times and usually with smiles. In, I believe, our junior year, Michelle and her family moved back to town. This was after being gone about a year, due to her dad’s job. When we spotted each other for the first time on her first day back at school: Tiens! Tiens! Tiens!

From then and on to high graduation, high school reunions, my autograph of my book to her, and to then the letters (not e-mails, but REAL letters with stamps!) where Michelle basked in the love for her son and not so dwelled on her battle with cancer, the opening was always the same: Tiens! Tiens! Tiens!

By our 25th high school reunion in 2001, the girl with the curls and whisper of a voice was gone.

It's a comfort to know the angels can hear Michelle just fine.

In 1974, February 2 was Saturday

My diary tells me, I spent the day at a high school wrestling meet. From one of the opposing teams, there was a black guy, I'll call V. I wrote he was UG-A-LY!

Well, truth be known, V probably was a young Denzel Washington and a real good lookin' kid, but it wouldn't have mattered. During that time, he and I were probably the only two black kids in the filled auditorium. Remember, I was the only black student in my class, on top of the being half of the entire black student population in grades 9-12. Translation: out of 650 kids, 648 of em were white.

I digress.

In 1974, and for years after, I was afraid I wasn't attractive to black guys. I didn't know any. So I didn't know if they thought I was pretty. Sure, my dad always said I was his prettiest girl--but ya know, he was my dad. As much as I loved my little Iowa hometown, it wasn't much of melting pot. Not even a crock pot. It's a bit better now, yet still predominately Caucasian.

Back in high school, I started a Kiss List. It's what you think it is. Any guy I kissed whether on the lips, his cheek or he kissed my cheek, they went on a list and were rated 1-10. No joke. By February 2, 1974 there were just a few names on all three lists. In fact, I kissed two classmates, that day on the cheek. One was a guy who later, much later--like 20 years later, apologized for calling me a nigger. Said he should haven't done that even if I was 'colored' because I never did anything to him. We shared a beer over that. Anyway, the List was started to see if any white guys would ever kiss me.

WOW. Looking back, I was outgoing, loved to laugh, knew everybody, and if I buckled down I could get very good grades. I didn't buckle down. I figure I lack some confidence in the male species department and that's why I started a Kiss List. I wonder if V the wrestler could have gone it?

Naw. I was too scared to even LOOK his way. I do remember that. The mouths of chums, from back in the day and even from this day, will crash the floor when they read that. "You? Lack of self confidence?"

And my Kiss List? I eventually kept tally of just one list: On the Lips (and of course that's another story). When I graduated in 1976, I had 96 different names. Mister #100 happened about a week later, out at our town's drive-in. I admit, years later, he remembered he was #100 better than I did. We even joked about it this past summer. I retired the List in October 1977, due to I felt I had to grow up. The final tally? 153. Still not sure I grew up THAT much tho. :)

Back on February 2, 1974, new stuff. Scary stuff. .Yet my diary says I had a good time that Saturday afternoon. I'm sure I did.

Hmm. I wonder where V is today? I have his full name written in my diary. My luck he's some brain surgeon with a home in the Hamptons. I'll have to Google him.

.

In 1996 December 22 was Sunday

Tomorrow is trash day. I hauled the stuff to the curb. This is one of those "I wish a man was close by" moments. Oh well, to today's entry:

Back in 1996, it was Dad's job to put the trash out by the curb. He would do it too, except during these late year moments, his health began to shift. It was a month before the amputation of his left leg, just below his knee. Diabetes. Dad wasn't feeling the best either, yet still had that forever cigar in his mouth. Plus his pride and joy---nope, not me--but the dog, Mr. Bojangles, was near by. Whenever I came home, that hound and I walked a million miles around town. Yep, even at Christmas time. The picture is from that Christmas.

Took a looksee in my 1996 diary. Just to see what else happened then. Just had to smile, because I thought I was SO in love! Indeedy. In fact, it was a classmate, I had a big ol crush on during junior high and some high school. Let's call him, Chi-town. He didn't have a clue until I told him at our 20th reunion. Which by the way, had a been a few months earlier, in July of 1996. OK--I gotta smile again.

My diary says, Chi-town had spent time with friends and family this December 22, evening and I'd watched the Cowboys lose to the Redskins, alas they were all ready in the playoffs and hadn't played the starters. I digress. Then Chi-town called me when all his company had left. Did I want to get some hot chocolate and go for a ride, he asked? Our rides usually consisted of going out to one end of our hometown, park the car at the Motel 8, and talk while we watched cars zip past on the highway. WOW-we both lived in big cities, and this is what we did. Anyway, I refused Chi-town's offer just because we had a date for the next day. This date which included a trip to to Des Moines, during a blizzard, with the windchill to single digits and a trip to an indoor ice rink. Chi-town tried to teach me how to ice skate. After some 6 yr old kid kept passing me, I gave up my dream of being Olympic gold medalist, Kristi Yamaguchi. Hmm. We took in dinner, movie and drove back home. The blizzard had eased, yet cold. Bitter cold. Kinda like my family and chums experience right now.

But ya know, it didn't matter back then. I was with Chi-town. He's the only man I ever looked at bridal magazines for. Told you, I thought was SO in love. And I was home. Right where I wanted to be.

Well, whatta ya know! Turns out I have a picture of me and Chi-town ,from the top of the Sears Tower, between pages of this 1996 diary. We look jovial. Gotta smile again. And I know you're wondering: what happened?

Well, that's another post.

Was going to walk tonight...

I planned to walk tonight. I NEEDED to walk tonight. However, I lugged my trash to the curb, because tomorrow is Trash Day, watched Dancing With the Stars, and scripted a rough draft of a letter.

Yep--a letter. A letter to an Oldies stations back in my Midwestern hometown. I informed them how my high school class, the Class of 76--the Bicentennial Bunch turns 50 this year. And we want to celebrate--a mini-reunion as it were. My class had a Two Year Reunion after high school. That was special--and now turning 50 is special too. The kicker is, I would love my fave rock band, Three Dog Night to perform. We have no money in our Class Kitty--so if we can pull this off, we need help. Hence, my letter to the radio station.

Even if the radio station says no--we'll still have a party. We'll still be together. At 50, like we were at 18. Were we all best buds? Oh of course, not--we were NOT Walton's Mountain. Yet we've all been down and up. Some of us left us too soon.

This party will be in their memory--of our past, of the present--and where ever our future leads us....We ARE the Class of 1976!