The shindigs seem to have gone off without a hitch, or at least none that Shea let on about, excepting some guy closer to his 30-year reunion than our 10-year who decided to appropriate some hors d'oeuvres*, giving our hostess a case of l'esprit d'escalier* despite the distinct lack of escalier. Everyone looked great, and seemed to be fairing well. No doubt some of that is the result of gussying up and ego-shielding obfuscation, but on the balance we've done well for ourselves, with some interesting in-marriages and plenty of budding careers in the medical, financial and public sectors.

*These word choices brought to you by the Committe to Promote the Pretentious Use of French For No Apparent Reason

My favorite game of the night was guessing who was who before the name tags appeared. I think I did pretty well. Hair color and quantity varied quite a bit, as have some builds, but faces don't change much. What has changed, though, is me, it seems. Rick(y) Wright and I were voted most changed. I'm not quite sure how to take that one, although I'm assured that it's quite a compliment. Perhaps it means I'm now less of an insufferable know-it-all and lech, or maybe my glasses, goatee and baldness in conjunction with a spouse of a different hue brought it on. It does rather make me wonder what everyone else saw, then and now, or as bard Rabbie Burns put it:
O, wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion.

I learned rather a bit in the past two days. Parker and Wisan have gotten back into comics. Laura Rigelado has a veritable posse of friends within an inch or two of her height. Everyone privatey predicted that I would spend my career in front of a computer terminal. I had somehow conflated Christy Summers and Kim Swaney in my mind (sorry for the confusing question about my date with the elusive last name, Kim!). There are actualy those who deign to speak of lil' old me when I'm not present. Geocaching is a really obscure hobby. I still suck at washers.

And now, m'haps we''ll have some pictures? Yes, methinks we shall...

In which the class confronts their past in an ongoing search for themselves (in the blowup of the senior class photo).

Callie and Chosei stand guard over our precious gravel resources

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