Did I miss a day?

Yesterday was Thursday, all day. I checked my calendar, the Internet and a few other sources and, yep, it was Thursday. I think I was taking a ride on the Mothership that day, because I forgot to blog. So now it's Friday and I don't want to start a trend--not writing about my strange and sometimes pathetic life every day. Some people might wonder if I've lost control of myself (well, yes, but that happened a long time ago), and other people might wonder if I'd lost my mental stability (well, there's never been a question about that; the only thing stable in my life is the one I occasionally visit that is filled with horses), and a few stragglers might wonder if I've wandered off somewhere (wandering is my specialty and I've been perfecting it for years--my feet wander, my eyes, wander, my fingers do the walking and they wander, and, mostly, my mind wanders).

Friday is the end of the week and, boy howdy, am I glad! That means there are two days I don't have to go to work for someone else. I don't have to keep someone else's schedule, meet someone else's expectations. Saturday and Sunday belong to me, and if I feel like staring at a cloud and trying to figure out what its shape resembles, I can do it--refer to the wandering mind noted above (a perfect mental environment for cloud watching). Tomorrow I am going to lunch with several of my friends from high school--one advantage of moving home to be with my parents was being with many of my high school friends. We're planning our 45th year high school reunion. It takes several of us to remember things--it's kind of a group effort, but eventually we do remember names, places, etc. Our reunion will take place in late October (hopefully the 90 and 100 degree days will have packed their bags and taken a hike by then) and we'll all get together and look through fuzzy-focused eyes at each other, try to remember names (staring at name tags on someone's chest is just a little too familiar for my taste), ask when we either can't remember or read (whoever is in charge of printing names needs to write them really BIG!), and we'll check out weight gains (anyone who is decidedly thinner than when we were last together is not allowed to come), hair losses, pictures of kids, grandkids, spouses, significant others, life partners, and ex-whatevers. We'll sing our Alma Mater making lots of mistakes and hoping our false teeth don't fall out when we hit the high notes, and we'll all remember how great it was to be a Honker--yes, folks, that is the name of my high school's mascot. It wasn't embarrassing when I was growing up to talk about being a Honker, because we didn't know there was anything weird about having a Canadian goose as our "team leader", but, once I went to college and all of my dorm mates and I were sharing stories of our high school adventures, the question inevitably came up--what was your mascot? At first, I was bold and proudly announced, "A Honker!" After the laughter died down and the finger pointing ended, I realized I had shame in my background and I needed to avoid answering mascot questions for the remainder of my life, except among other Honker alumni. Even Readers' Digest published a little blurb about the top 10 stupidest mascots, and Yuba City's Honker made the list. Make me proud! Honk once if you're from Yuba City and the rest of you quit laughing...