I t's that time of year where you doll up and trek off to the class reunion -- where name tags are vital if you want to try to remember anybody you shared secrets with, bared your soul to and loved and hated equally.
A few weeks back was the big day for me at my alma mater, Bonner Springs High School. I looked at last year's pictures to ensure I didn't wear the same outfit. No such thing as buying anything new on a fixed income with lopsided allocation for prescription drugs.
Satisfied I hadn't been seen in public with the chosen outfit for some years, I slid into a pantsuit, applied extensive makeup, squeezed on some sandals despite the edema and then fired up the old four-door Buick.
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I wrote down my maiden name and married name on my nametag. I got a squeal ...
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