Once again, this post brought to you by Facebook...

Seriously, darlings, how many reunions can one short girl have in a year? Thank you again, creators of Facebook...

Yesterday afternoon, at Stokes in the Old Market, I saw some women I haven't seen in 18(?) years. The four of us were thicker than thieves in elementary school, which in this case was St. Patricks School - ahh, Catholic school. The (repressed) memories... I remember a couple of things about St. Pat's. We used to have to recite prayers in the main entryway three times a day: before school, before lunch, and just before dismissal. We also attended Mass on Wednesdays, before the official school day started. (My dissatisfaction with religion started rather early, as you may have already guessed.)

I started school in Mo. Valley in kindergarten, but due to some strange whims of the parental units, we moved away some time in the first grade. The strange whims ended in the fourth grade, and I returned to St. Pat's. By that time, my class was pretty small - there were just three of us. Of course, St. Pat's was pretty small anyway - so small that they put two grades in each classroom. Dana and Sara were the other two girls in the fourth grade when I came back. Sabrina was a grade below us, but in the same classroom that we had. Actually, I think Beans sat beside me. I can't remember whether it was proximity or fate, but either way, we all became friends.

Coming back to Iowa was interesting for me - I had spent two years away, one in Omaha, and one in Oregon. Actually, the plan was never that we would return to Iowa - my sisters and I were sent to Omaha to spend the summer with our father. Before the summer was out, however, we were informed that we were not returning to Oregon at all. We were all moving back to Mo. Valley, minus stepfather #1.

Our fourth grade teacher was named Mrs. Pitt, and I always had a feeling she didn't like me too much. This certainly could have been because I was always questioning everything. It's a talent that still gets me into trouble. Also, I think it might have been at this point that I decided I didn't like to do things the way everyone else did them. For example, in the fifth grade, I began writing my numbers differently from everyone else. They were the same numbers, just with a few embellishments. I also started my very own business at one point - reselling candy that I had bought at the Kum-n-Go (go ahead, snicker. We sure did). Also, when we made mistakes on our assignments, our teacher (Mrs. Solon) would require us to correct it and hand it back in for a few of the points back. I felt that this was a worthless exercise. This opinion spurred action on my part - every time I got an assignment back, I would add it to the crumpled ball of past assignments I'd been secretly keeping in the coat closet. These were eventually unearthed, and I was sent home, carrying the ball of corrections and a note for my mother. The note made it home, but the corrections didn't. I walked to the top of the hill and set the ball rolling down toward the school - and past Mrs. Solon's car. I figured I was in deep trouble anyway, so why not? You know me - in for a penny, in for a pound...

I really didn't care much for Catholic school. The bright spot was hanging around with my friends. As I remember it, we did just about everything together from the fourth grade until seventh, when Dana, Sara, and I went off to junior high. Random memories from that time include:

• Sara's mom was a really good cook.
• We were all in Camp Fire at one point. One year, we were completely rained out of our summer camp-out. It had been a great time, up to that point.
• We used to play "Light as a feather, stiff as a board" quite a bit on overnight stays. I can't remember what we were trying to accomplish, except that it was sort of a seance thing.
• We listened to an awful lot of Def Leppard in Dana's basement bedroom.
  
• Hair spray was used early and often. Not on me.
  
• Birthday parties were an entire weekend long. Dana and Sara's birthdays were close together in the summertime, and Beans had a birthday in January (26th?) They weren't just birthday parties, they were extravaganzas. We would go into Omaha to eat at one of Beans's father's restaurants (Firmature's? Cheyenne Social Club?) and shop at Westroads. That was a super-huge deal back then.
• Beans had a big family, and they had a cavernous maze of a house. I loved it. Something was always going on. I was extremely shy at the time, and Beans's father would always ask me if I was holding up the wall I was leaning against. I always answered yes.
• Dana shared her basement bedroom with her sister, Erin. Whenever anyone would come down the stairs, Erin would say "Welcome, (your name here)" in a voice that sounded like you were being welcomed into a cult ceremony. It was absolutely hilarious. Actually, I still do that to people.
  
• Dana's house had a breezeway. I thought this was the coolest thing ever. It was like you were outside, but you weren't.
• I saw Risky Business for the first time at Dana's house. I only remember because it was something I wasn't supposed to be doing.
  

All right, I could go on and on here, but you're getting the picture. Though I relished the moment I left St. Pat's forever, I hated leaving Beans behind. I think I wrote her notes for a while, but soon enough I settled into 7th grade, and started hanging out with Brandy and Shawna. We all traveled in different circles in junior high and high school. Dana sat beside me in high school Choir for a few years - we were certainly a force to be reckoned with. We giggled and mocked others, mostly. After graduation, I left Mo. Valley and didn't give it a second thought.

The story picks up three years ago, when my mother died. Her health had been bad for a while, and her extra curricular activities weren't helping at all. It happened pretty fast, and I wandered around in shock for a while. Out of the blue, I got a call from Beans. She'd heard through her family grapevine what had happened. We caught up over the phone that day. A couple of things made an impression on me: first, that someone I hadn't seen in 15 years would take time out to call me and see how I was doing. Second, when we were catching up she said she thought she would have found me in a big city somewhere, like New York. I remember thinking, me too.

That statement, along with the funeral, caused me to step back and take a look at a few things. I wasn't really where I wanted to be, and I knew it. I have always settled for less, simply because I'm afraid to fail in the process of getting what I want out of life. Isn't that silly? Failure isn't final. Self-fulfilling prophecies, on the other hand, are pretty damn final.

Soon after that, another friend approached me with the idea of going to school and getting a better degree. I smiled politely at him, and then when I got home later I laughed out loud. What use do I have for another degree? I mean, come on... Long story short, after a little investigation, I changed my mind on that one. Now I'm right in the middle of the process of changing my life (and getting out of this part of the country). Women in hot places, watch out!

So then half the world friended me on Facebook - including my elementary school cohorts. Dana was the first one I met up with over lunch at Old Chicago - from our first visit, it was clear that lunch was not going to be enough. I have since spent much time giggling with Dana - this has added considerably to my life.

I have to say that I was a little anxious about getting together with all of us - my personality is a bit different these days. I'm much more outspoken and opinionated than the little kid who used to hold up the walls. I never know how people will react to that. Also, there's always the worry that I won't have anything in common with people.

And once again my fears were unfounded. All of my friends are doing well. Sara is teaching and raising a lovely little family in Mo. Valley. Beans is raising a small army of tiny peeps in northern Iowa. Dana and I are the single girls, hanging out here in Omaha. Everyone seems well and happy, and it seems like we'll make this happen again soon.

One thing did occur to me, as we were sitting there, catching each other up. We talked a lot about family, careers, school, etc. It's interesting that I spend so much time hurtling toward goal completion, when it's often the simple things in life that really matter. Whenever I do a reunion like this, I'm always struck by the thought that I need to slow down, enjoy life, and let everyone know that I love them. Seriously.

So. It's late, and I know this because the guy who lives above me has started his nightly guitar practice. He's actually pretty good. Besides, this has gotten a bit sentimental! I don't want anyone to think I'm losing my edge....

Goodnight, darlings. The photo posted below is so you can know what we look like.