Hot rushes from the past

An intense day at the office. Some intense personnel meetings and thorny conversations. I passed on an evening concert to just stay home and lick my wounds. No, it’s not that bad. But STOP is good.

Chihara urged me to go have a martini and dinner and relax. I did just that at Ammo (Highland). Benny, i’m sure he did! put Rufus Wainwright’s latest in the mix, and I got to hear new Rufus during dinner. I texted with my honey as though he were with me. I checked my email and found one from an old classmate from high school.

Now get this: I’ve never been invited to, or been to a high school reunion. Tonight, over my Hendrick Gibson, I found out that since 1971 I HAVE BEEN MISSING. I’m sure my blood pressure rose a tad when I read that on my Palm Pre Plus. But now! Denise has found me, and I am now rejoined with my compatriots from high school.

There were two attachments to this a second email from Denise: one was a list of current known alums, their addresses, emails and such; and the second was “deceased or missing” and yours truly was on the MISSING list in blue.

After that whole rush, I looked at the living and realized that this was the wrong class. My [dysfunctional-or am I missing THERE too?] class of 1971 didn’t actually send me a notice for a high school reunion. I was stamped as the wrong year.

[Sigh.]

I went to the next email, from my mother telling me my father was in the emergency room and being observed. She rattled off the various tests they had already done, and all systems look good. But more tests tomorrow.

My medium rare Hanger Steak with fingerling potatoes, broccoli, and a Cab arrived with these hot rushes from the past hovering over me.

“Dessert, sir?”

No, I’m sweet enough darling, thank you; I’ll have the bill.