Hola, commo esta?

I was feeling all nostalgic today for some reason.  So while I had the kids in the basement doing some much needed screaming and running around time (not quite warm enough to go outside until this afternoon), I came upon my high school yearbook. 

This year is my graduating class's 20th high school reunion.  Oh. My. God. 

How the hell am I old enough to be out of high school for 20 years?  I mean, I can remember like it was yesterday going to high school for the first time, on my first day.  See, I was lucky (or maybe not, I dunno, depends on who you talk to), I was in marching band.  So we spent two whole weeks at our high school for band camp and rehersals, and I got to know the lay of the land pretty well.  We had a campus style high school,  we had different buildings for different classes, much like a mini college campus.  It was nice because on nice days, we would get to be outside for a little between each class. Unfortunately I also live in Ohio, and we also had a crapload of rainy, icy, snowy, cold, and humid days to walk to class in.  But I digress.  The benefit of the campus style school was that it afforded us the opportunity to see EVERYONE at some point in the day.  There was something like 400 or so kids in my gradating class, I think more, but I can't remember.  I just remember it was a lot.

Anyway, I was able to scout out all of the buildings, and pretty much know where everything was, so on my first day of school, I was totally awesome when it came time to go to my classes.  Or at least I thought I was.  I found my first three classes fine.  Then it was time to go to my french class. 

I walk in and sit down.  I didn't know anyone in there, which with the size of the school was not odd.  I got my paper out, and a pencil, and stared out the window and watched the sun shine.  It was hot in there, because unlike the spoiled brats now a days, there was only one building that had air conditioning, and it was J building.  I was in B building, on the top floor.  It was ridiculous hot.  But as I stared out the window and sweat, I watched the teacher walk in.  She had the most amazing hair I have ever seen.  It was brown and curly and huge.  (Again, not odd, this was the early 90's you know).  She put down her stuff, and as she wrote her name on the board, she said with enthusiasm. "Hola!  Welcome to Spanish 1!"  Oh. Crap. 

What do I do???  Do I get up?  Do I say , "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I am in the wrong class?"  I look around.  RIght there, in the front, diagonal from me, was my crush, who I had not noticed come in because I was staring out the window sweating.  There was no way in hell I was getting up now.  Talk about embarassing.  So I stare at the back of his head in panic, trying to calculate my next move. Maybe I should ask to go to the bathroom, take my stuff and find the right room.  No no no, that won't work, she will wonder why I am taking all of my stuff to the bathroom.  Well, I guess I am in spanish 1 for the day.  I will find my new room tomorrow. 

That is when he turned around and saw me.  He smiled, "Hey Tiff!  You are in Spanish?  I thought you were in French."  Oh. My. God.  Not only does Mr. Wonderful know who I am, he knew I took intro to French in middle school.  I could feel my face getting red.  I smiled and said, "Guess I thought I would try something new.  I don't know if I am going to stick with it though.  I really liked French.  Might switch classes."  "Oh.  Bummer.  Have fun."  And turned around.  What if....what if I just switched to Spanish???  I was sweating a lot now, not just from the heat, but from the pressure.  What the what should I do??? 

Unfortunately I am a very good little girl, and despite the temptation to stay in Spanish with Mr. Heavenly Eyes, I went to French class the next day.  Oh, and looking back, I am SO glad that I did.  Because I made a really good friend who I didn't talk to for a long time after graduation, but we are super good friends today, and I talk to her almost every day on Facebook.  So see, if I would have stayed in that class, not only would I have missed making friends with Genevieve (That is the french name I am giving her), but I would have totally married Paco (The spanish name for Mr. Bicepts), and I would have missed out on all of the fun I am having with the Admiral!  The only downside, I would have been able to order at McDonalds here where I live now like a boss!

 Ah oui, c'est la vie!

So I have decided to dedicate the next few months of blogging to reliving some of the better stories

from high school, in honor of the class of '94.  Because we freakin rocked, and I was a sort of dork/cool/friends with most people/awkward/mean girl/nice girl next door type of person, so I have a lot of very eclectic stories I can share.  Yay for nostalgia!