Those 70ish Girls

 

I decided to add a few lines to one of the blogs I wrote about the 2016 Murdo and Jones County High School All School Reunion. I wish I had another one to go to this year. Val does too. She still talks endlessly about being in the parade. I have shown the picture of us riding in the red convertible Tammy Lindquist snagged for us from the Pioneer Auto Museum so many times, I can find it easily among the over six thousand pictures I have accumulated since I started writing the blog. Skip to 2017 if you don’t want to read this part again.

I don’t blame Coach Applebee for putting plastic on his floor. Do you think that’s why it was hotter than fire in there? My hair looks dripping wet in every picture. With my most recent bad haircut, it didn’t look that good dry.

Below is a photograph of me with Mrs. Peters. She was a favorite of mine. She looked the same as she did in 1970. I sure hope she is enjoying her retirement.

The Queen imitating Mrs. Peters

I had to go to the doctor a couple of days before I left for Murdo. It was just a regular check-up. I had gained a few elbeez since the last time. When I commented that I had gained weight only because I was going to a reunion, the good Doc said, “You look great and everyone you see will think so too!” Then as I was walking out, he said, “Of course, there’s always someone who looks better.” What is that supposed to mean? I will say most of the alumni I saw, were pretty well preserved.

For the Parade, Valerie was dressed like the Queen who’s 90, and I was supposed to look like an eight year old playing dress-up . I’m sure there was more than one eight year old that looked better than I did.

Kip thinks it’s kind of weird that I’ve been wearing my red gown and tinfoil crown every day. I don’t see why he should care as long as I continue to do all my chores. Well, not all of them I guess. Part of the reason I still wear the gown is because I haven’t done the laundry in three weeks. When I wear the dress, I have to wear the crown or people will look at me funny.

 

Yesterday,  I hung around the Monitor until it got too hot. The Monitor is our local newspaper. I believe in being proactive when I need to get noticed for publicity. You know, for my campaign. They finally snapped a couple of pictures. The picture was okay. It was even on the front page, but the caption said, “Aging queen posing as an 8 yr. old. Approach with caution.” It’s not true what they say. There is such a thing as bad publicity.

2017

I can’t believe it’s been a year since we had so much fun at the reunion. It seems like so much longer. A lot has happened since then, but I will save that for another day.

Guess what? I get to go to Laramie, Wyoming to Kip’s high school reunion in August. He graduated in 1962…the same year as my brother Billy. He said I cannot bring my red dress or my tinfoil crown, but I still get to gain the ten extra reunion pounds. I kind of hope I don’t get a reunion bad haircut. After too many years to worry about, I finally found someone who cuts my hair the way it looks best, no matter what I tell her or how many pictures I drag in there. She just says “Okay.” Then she cuts it the way it should be cut.

 

Queen Val and I work hard to stay in shape

We went to Kip’s reunion in 1992 and there is one thing I don’t look forward too. They just invite their class and even though there are hundreds, the conversations can get depressing. They started talking about…at what age should you stop getting puppies? If it outlives you, that would be too sad. Another guy wanted to know how many years they should finance a new car. One said,”five max! But why would you even buy a new car.” Later, they had a rousing conversation about the success of hair plugs for balding men.

You were There??

“Hey, would someone like to dance with me?”  I asked. Kip was the only one to volunteer. Everyone else said they wanted to wait for a slower song. They were playing “The Tennessee Waltz.” The next song was “The Orange Blossom Special.” Kip danced one dance with me, and we went back to the table. The women were comparing who was the most “regular,” and the guys were talking about hearing aids.

I asked everyone at our table where the Queen was sitting. I thought I could hang out with her since we would have being a Queen in common, you know? They didn’t remember who she was, let alone where she was.

I realized it was a big mistake to ask for permission to bring my gown and crown with me. I’m going to pack it. I might even see if Cousin Val wants to meet me in Laramie. Now all we need is a red convertible.

Kip in 1962