I just got a call from the NRC asking me if I wanted to come to a dinner with President Bush!

(me, thinking I didn’t hear correctly): Pardon?
(her): (blah blah dinner Bush)
(me): I’m sorry, did you say ‘Bush’?
(her): (blah blah Bush dinner National Republican)
(me): I’m sorry, no thank you.
(her): but…
(me): I’m really not interested.  I don’t support Bush.

I was nice and she seemed to understand, but … what in heaven’s name did I do to get on *that* list?!?

Let’s see:

• Uterus still owned by own self:  check.
• Belief in equal rights under law for all people regardless of race, creed, color or sexual preference: check.
• Stock in major oil companies: no check.

Bizarre!

Remember I’d mentioned that my high school chemistry teacher had contacted me out of the blue recently (upon discovering that he’d be in town on business and that I still lived in town).  We missed each other that time (due to some strange eating disorder that my road runner email account had developed), but he emailed me last week to say he’d be in town tonight.

And we had dinner!  (sushi…mmmmmmm)  What a blast!  It’s so funny, because when we met I was 16 (going on 17. really) and he was, well, an “adult” (who, as it turns out was only a few years older than I) and it didn’t much occur to me that we had much in common (admittedly that entire year my head was elsewhere… was rather lucky I didn’t fail out!).  So it truly amused and pleased me to have such an enjoyable dinner — turns out we even like much of the same music (and he plays Banjo, which is nifty)!  I guess I might be an “adult” now too…

(BTW, still recovering from the ache-eee-double-hockey-sticks that was the last two weeks at work.  More later.)

About three nights ago, I received this email:

“You know, you really turned out to be an interesting person, at least judging by the lint queen site.

If you don’t remember me, don’t bother to write back.  If you do (and you’ll forgive me for the out-of-the-blue question), I’ll be in RTP this evening (assuming the plane is on time) and my cell phone is XXX-XXX-XXXX.  I’m usually working like crazy when there, but today I have the evening free.”

signed by a name that was familiar, but not instantly peggable (but I’m notoriously crap with names).

I replied with an apology (the curiosity was KILLING me), then went back to read the email again for clues.  At that point, I noticed that the email was dated AUGUST 18!  Time-Warner had sat on it for almost two months!  (Or maybe my Outlook was misbehaving).

Then I replied again, apologizing for the delayed response.

Both bounced.

Now the curiosity is killing me.  Today I called the number.

It was my high school chemistry teacher!!!!  (“Ohhhhhhhh — *that* Kiplinger!!!!“)

Wow.  Crappy cell phone connection, so we didn’t talk long, but WOW.

(I haven’t seen him in 18 years…it’s not like we kept up or anything.  He apparently was going to be here for business and was trying to remember who he knew in the area and found my site via the NCSSM site.  Wow.)

EDITED to add: This, BTW, qualified as Really Cool, in my book.

I PICK UP MY BABY TOMORROW!

As excited as I am, of course I’m having anxiety about it too… what if I wreck it?  I am not, as friends and family are fond of pointing out, the world’s best driver.  (It’s just a car, I know.  It’ll be ok, I know.)

Last night at yoga I twisted my knee something fierce (nothing weird other than I didn’t get my balance well before I started a pose.  My stupidness.)  I can’t put any weight on my leg at all (thank heavens Mary, my roommate from high school, and Kim, another friend who happens to be the wife of a good friend from high school, brought me crutches)..on the way home last night I had visions of using my desk chair with wheels to try to scoot around the house.  I will be mostly in bed, with leg elevated, save for a Dr.’s appt. at 1:45. If you need me, call.