1987

Look out! It's my senior high school yearbook picture, recently uploaded by the people who brought you all those incredibly boring High School Reunions. Here I am at age 18, with a perm and over-plucked eyebrows. Wow.

I just got a card -- update your info! -- from the organization that now apparently makes money from this sort of thing (versus a committee of folks who actually attended Robbinsdale Cooper Senior High). I went to a large suburban high school where I graduated with 500 other kids -- I did not belong to a cozy band of classmates. I'm hard-pressed to think of more than one or two people from RCHS that I would be genuinely eager to see, and I don't imagine any of them wonder about me. I envy people with small-town school memories. After 22 years...

22 years ago I had two boyfriends (one of them was a secret from my parents) and I was sure I wouldn't marry either of them -- because I was never getting married, or having children. Yet I thought I wanted to be a high school art teacher. Ha! SO naive. I was preparing for my first year at the University of Minnesota, and little did I know how much the freshman year would alter the course of the rest of my life. 1987. Don't get me started.