That's Doctor Prom Date to you

Before I speak of my high school prom date, I thought I'd share a horrible phone photo of Lucy. How often can you get a photo of your dog sticking its tongue out at you? If the photo doesn't make you laugh (or, at least wonder what the hell is wrong with Lucy...or, with me), you need to take a nap and eat more chocolate.

Before I speak of my prom date, I confess that I have reached an all-time low in the "I'm so sporty" department: I hurt my knee while putting a Jillian Michael's DVD into the DVD player this evening. One minute, I was having thoughts of doing something stupid like doing a 20 minute cardio workout; the next, I was bent over in pain, wondering what the hell just happened. I think it was a sign from God: "STEP. AWAY. FROM. THAT. WORKOUT. TAPE!" I know better than to do a Jillian tape--history shows such behavior increased my butt size, trashed my knee and toyed with my brain. I admit my motivation wasn't that I thought I'd get a better work out than going for a walk....no, I was being lazy. Twenty minutes of Jillian is a lot faster than three miles of walking around the neighborhood. Bad idea, as evidenced by my aching knee. I don't know what happened, but I felt it and there is no denying I am in need of my beloved lady chiropractor. Something in my knee is out of whack and this upsets me.

Before I speak of my prom date, I also wanted to share this photo of Freckles Warrior Princess, as taken by Cheeseball Neighbor and ChiSky Grrrrl. This is Freckles enjoying a Cubs chair, quite to the dismay of the Milwaukee-Brewer-loving wife. Freckles is Cubby-Blue fan from whelp. When the grrrrrlz visit Brown Dog and the neighbors, they are treated to a royal Cubs fest. Yum! They report that Freckles didn't get out of this chair for two full hours. Unfortunately, Freckles is back to being a smelly, itchy, bloody, yeasty, eye-boogered canine, miserable with dog allergies. (She was allergy-free when seated in this chair, so no worries about that.) It's the rust in the grass-- that red fungus that shows up every August. It makes her miserable. It's not like she can avoid grass. We limit her grass time but we have to walk a little every day or she'll give new meaning to her nickname "Fatty Patty." Benadryl barely touches it. A visit to the cat doctor can't be far away.....

Finally! About that prom date. I am in the midst of searching for long lost classmates (for our upcoming high school reunion) and realized that I had not found my prom date. I'm not sure he wants to be found (especially by me), but I thought at least a Google search would be in order. So, I sat at my desk at the place of which I do not speak, trying to remember how to spell his last name....is there or isn't there a "z" in it? Is it a "K" or a "C?" So many lost brain cells, so little time....

Before I get to what I found, I'd like to share a little background about Dr. Prom Date.

There were 600 students in our graduating class. Dr. Prom Date was Number One. Valedictorian. A gentleman scholar who was in the band, I might add. If you are gonna get a prom date, why not go for the top dog? He was one smart cookie--put me to shame. Now, I was a not-so-shabby Number Four, a sporty nerd, also in the band--but, I had nothing on him. Nothing.

Suffice it to say it is about ten zillion miles between number one and number four.

How we came to be prom dates is beyond me, but I'm glad we went to the big show together because he really was a nice guy and I really had a good time, even though he had to be home by 1 A.M. Doctor Prom Date was the perfect guy, from bouquet to white tux to the day-after Great America trip. It was nerd heaven!

So, once I remember how to spell his last name, I find Dr. Prom Date on Google. I thought he might have found his calling as a priest or medical doctor, but he's found his way into the sciences and engineering--which doesn't surprise me, even though it would have been great fodder if he had indeed become a priest. Scrolling through the google results, I'm sure it's him after seeing his credentials...yup, correct college....yup, correct master's level program....yup, that's his home town. I start reading about what he's been up to and my eyes start to glaze over. The words don't even sound like English. I write blogs with poor grammar and tacky photos of my dogs; he publishes things about corrosion inhibition apparatus blah blah thermocouples in situ heating dirt blah blah blah.

I have no idea what any of this means except that he paid attention in Physics class and I didn't. (Don't even get me started about Physics class.)

Number one....to number four: the friggin' Grand Canyon, in this case. Now, I'm not saying I'm some dummy; I'm just saying that's quite a leap from where I'm standing. Good for you, Doctor Prom Date! I am psyched to say I was your date...and, have pictures to prove it.

I have many questions for him, the first of which will be, "what the hell is a implantable goniometer and does your mother know about this?" I will then ask him about his life, if he now wears jeans and what his adventures have included over the past thirty years. I'll ask the obligitory questions about family and such....after that, I'll convince him to attend our class reunion. Maybe he can wear a white tux for the event....I'll wear a dress if he wears a tux.......

....as long as he leaves his implantable goniometer at home.
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