To attend or not to attend

So it appears I missed the deadline for my 20 year high school reunion. And by missed I mean I was sitting at the computer, looking at the website and consciously decided not to fill out the form. Normally I realize I’ve missed the deadline for something when I unearth it from the pile of mail and “very important stuff” on our kitchen counter. But here’s the thing, if it was really that important, wouldn’t I have dealt with it right away?

So the deadline came and went, and I figured I was off the hook. Sure, I had already bought a new dress, but I can wear it to some other event. Maybe my dear, dear MD will need to take me out to my favorite restaurant. Or maybe I could sit in the living room wearing it while reading the next Twilight book. (Don’t be jealous of my crazy, busy life!) Then today, of all things, the committee sent a note that they had extended the deadline until next week! Really? What are these people trying to do to me? Not to mention I received a separate email today from another former classmate who is organizing a rouge reunion for the people who don’t want to pay the ridiculous reunion fees. At the same restaurant. On the same night. At the same time. Again, really? I don’t think I have the cojones (who knew that was how you spell cojones?) to pull that off. So, despite the $80 per person fee for drinks on Friday and dinner on Saturday it seems like I’m back to square one--wanting (slightly) to go, but not really willing to put up the cash or effort to actually get my stuff together to attend. Kind of reminds me of the way I felt when it came right down to deciding if I would change my name or not when I got married…

On to other items:

Last night while enjoying cherries (picked by our own hands from our lovely friends’ tree) P said “I have an indigenous way to slice these to get the pit out.” I followed with, “indigenous?” at which point he realized he had used the wrong word. MD said “do you know what indigenous means?” P’s reply was a sigh, followed by “hard working?” “Um no, I think that’s “diligent” you’re thinking of.” P, “no I meant indignant.” Well that might be how you’re feeling at this point, but still not what you’re going for.

A couple of days ago we were at a water park and G threw a giant fit about wearing a life jacket. She finally came around and put the jacket on and told me she wanted it to be “nice and tight, because that’s the way it works best to keep me safe. And safe is good!” I sighed, kissed her forehead and said (in my best you’re testing every ounce of patience I have voice) “I love you.” And what was her reply? Keep in mind, this is the child who must give me a “basket of hugs and a basket of kisses and a huge basket of sticky so they can stay with you” every night before bed, and then blows me kisses over the covers and asks if I caught each one of them. So anyway, I said “I love you” and her singsong reply was, “and I love safety!!”

I’ll be out picking blueberries and away from the internets for a few days, so have a great weekend everyone! (Or just you HB, the only person reading this!)

Should I attend the organized reunion? The rouge reunion? Feel free to sound off.