I received mail from my high school reunion committee (I don't remember having any input as to who's on the committee), but I have been alerted that in a few weeks, I will be able to attend my 50th high school reunion. Yes, I said 50, the AARP minimum enrollment age. My eyeballs began to tear, my arthritic knees began to crack, I lost the hearing in one ear, and I began to drool, although in good conscience it might have been the dark chocolate pudding with whipped cream I have been thinking about, courtesy of the better half.
Fifty years, folks, count 'em. I'd rather not.
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