Return of the Canadian Cookie Fairy

As blasts from my past go, this one was quite enjoyable. One of my former roommates from high school (yes, high school. Remember I went to boarding school in Switzerland for a year and a half.) was in town for an Astronomy conference (don't ask - she's a totally brainy-ack and so it makes sense). She and her adorable family and I met for dinner.

Jenny (aka the Canadian Cookie Fairy) and I were roommates my senior year in high school. I don't recall too much interaction my junior year, so we'll forgo any stories from then.

But our senior year we were "Prefects" in the Sophomore girls dorm. There were four of us who were prefects. Jenny was every one's favorite. She let rules slide more than the rest of us...at least that was how we saw it. I took being a prefect very seriously and so consequently I think I followed the rules too much. Regardless, we had some good times.

I have photos, incriminating photos, of us doing things that just isn't written about, or shouldn't be. I mean, photos of us with pots on our heads. Why we had pots - you know cooking pots - on our head I have no idea. I have photos of her and I on top of a closet in Munich. Apparently there was enough room up there and we figured we should be on top of the closet. Who knows. All I know is that she is still Jenny to me. We're both older and perhaps wiser, but she was the smarty and still is.

She asked me last night what I remembered about her ( I didn't dare ask her what she remembered about me...I didn't want to know) and the first thing that popped out of my mouth was "high maintenance". She was. But not in a bad way. She was, after all, Canadian. I think they seem like high maintenance because of the exchange rate.

Anyhow, I have another rather amusing, yet shockingly odd story to write about.

So you know how I like a certain band, and more importantly a certain lead singer that I tend to lust after. Anyhow, last night I got into Seattle earlier than I needed to meet Jenny. I was sitting outside a store enjoying my cup of coffee when who should I see walk past me? You guessed it. I mean, what are the odds? And thank god I was there first or he would have thought I was stalking him. Whatever.