It all makes sense...

Of course! The urge to blog about the cool moms at the estrogen fountain? The dream last night that my friends went to lunch and no one stayed behind to wait for me? The ruffled bloomers outfit I was wearing as I stood at the cafeteria entrance?

It can only be one thing. HSRS...High School Reunion Syndrome.

I can't fricken believe it.

Self, repeat after me: You are being ridiculous.

I wish I could offer you something more memorable, like a recap of our Martha Stewart Thanksgiving, but it involved an abscessed tooth (my brother's; his face swelled to the size of a basketball) and a friend's sheltie that tried to hump Junior every time he sat down. Oh, and my former prison guard uncle who showed up in his clown outfit.

No one knew he was a clown. I've never eaten turkey with a clown. Or had a clown take a nap on my couch.

I hope you had a great holiday. And I can't believe Aunt Burty came back as a sheltie. It's nice to know that in the afterlife she's still, you know, feisty.