If you’re reading this blog, I can only assume that you’re old enough to have had at least one class reunion by now. Me, too. Actually, I’ve had a few. (Loud exhausted sigh that I’ll repeat even louder if you didn’t hear the first one.) I’m old enough now that people likely expect me to show up with worldly anecdotes and other colorful witticisms about my life and its many accomplishments.

Shit.

So … we’ve got twelve days. And I was just thinking that I probably need to accomplish a few things before then. Although I’m afraid my list might be a little ambitious. Here’s what I’ve got. What do you think? Do I have a shot at any of these?

Discover a vaccine for diabetes. I’ll probably take care of cancer and heart disease, too … as long as I’m in the lab using the beakers and messing up my nails and everything.
Compose a symphony in E flat major 7. Doesn’t that sound like the perfect fancy-pants key? I think it would probably get me noticed faster than if I just said C. Also, I need to get this composition performed on PBS as soon as possible.
Travel to a third world destination and ‘Angelina’ my way across the countryside. Stay put until People Magazine shows up to do a spread on me. Don’t forget to pack lipstick and a flat iron.
Win a Tony. This one’s going to be tough. Because the Tonys aren’t held until a month later in June. Plus I’m not actually in a Broadway play right now. Details.
Learn to play the cello. Geez, it’s only got four strings. How hard can it be?!!?
Spend a month meditating in India. This one’s going to be really hard, too, because I’ve only got twelve days left.
Write a sequel to War & Peace. So far, I’ve got about 650 words so I’m probably good to go here.
Star in a movie with Johnny Depp. I just tweeted Tim Burton about some ideas so this one’s practically done. Plus, I think Johnny would probably LOVE to do a movie about my cat. Although the cat will probably have to be dead.
Serve the people as an elected official. Does PTA president count? I had my own gavel with a piece of blue electrical tape on the side with my name written on it in Sharpie. Plus a music stand that, when covered by a blue Snuggie, made a pretty decent podium.
Earn a B.A., an M.A., marry, have two kids, reinvent myself after Hurricane Katrina, get a cat and write about everything, even if it’s related to my boobs. Crap. I’m really dragging my feet on this one. Better start burning the damned generic Walmart candle at both ends.

What do you think? Some of my old classmates actually read this blog (or so they tell me) so I guess now I have to go. I’ll be going stag … which is becoming my thing … since Dave is traveling again. So, what should I tell everyone I’m doing these days? Think they’d believe if I claimed to be an undercover agent so I wouldn’t have to go into any details about my life? Or maybe I should just show up wearing another classmate’s name tag. A male classmate. (That could shake things up a bit.)

Anyway, I’m now accepting ideas of what I should do, wear, say, carry with me, pretend to be, sing on the stage, put in the punchbowl, write on the wall in the ladies room, etc. at this momentous event in my very near future.

And … oh, dear God … I almost forgot. Here’s a huge decision that could make or break my whole evening.