I assume everyone's got his or her head buried in the new HP. We bought ours in Bismarck on Saturday morning; we briefly considered going out at midnight Friday to get one, but the lure of our hotel room's sleep-number bed won out. I started reading it right away and Kip picked it up yesterday in the car on the way home from Bismarck; I'm sure he's passed me by now. I like it so far and am studiously avoiding TV and news stories about it. Having been a professional critic, I understand the way the process works, but I still think anyone who published or broadcast spoilers last week was mean-spirited.

WHAT WE DID THIS WEEKEND

We went to Bismarck, ND, for my 30-year high school reunion. We left about 4:30 p.m. on Thursday and didn't arrive until 2 a.m. Friday, mainly because of all the damn traffic getting out of town. If I owned a lake cabin and had to deal with that traffic every summer weekend, I would immediately sell the lake cabin, buy a home near Interstate 94 and sit there every weekend and laugh at the outgoing traffic. What a massive pain. And this was only Thursday. I shudder to think what Friday was like.

There were reunion events on Friday and Saturday nights, and on Friday we dropped off Andrew at the home of a classmate of mine who has a 12-year-old son who is an experienced babysitter.

Let me say at the outset that I was not part of the popular crowd, but I loved high school nevertheless. I hung with the newspaper and yearbook staffs, who were much more entertaining and interesting, of course. I also worked at the Bismarck Tribune from the time I was 16, back in the days when reporters still used manual typewriters and had glue pots and pencils on their desks.

Thus, even when I was in high school, high school was not my entire life, unlike (apparently) many of the people who showed up for the 30th reunion. I was part of a remarkably unambitious and/or content-where-they-are class; of the 109 people who showed up, 61 of them still live in North Dakota, 48 of them still in Bismarck. (We're talking about a class of more than 500.) I also went to the 10th and 20th reunions, and found that people still hung in the same cliques and affected the same poses that they did in high school. It was a little better this time, but I think maybe when you get around people with whom the main things you had in common were that you are the same age and attended the same school, you revert to that era and behave the way you did back then.

There were a few people I was really happy to see, but for the most part, the people who were my close friends weren't there, and for those who were there, high school was apparently the high point of their lives, which is kind of sad. I struck up a conversation with one of the guys, who is a mining engineer at the same ND company where my father was chief geologist for many years (until 1982). Entirely unsolicited, he told me that he frequently runs across reports that my father wrote, mapping coal deposits in western North Dakota, and that those reports are still spot-on and useful to the company's current employees. He called my dad a pioneer in the field. I was overcome with gratitude and emotion (and somewhat fueled by white zinfandel) and leaped up and gave him a hug to thank him.

At one point, Kip and I were sitting at a table, and I observed four women at a nearby table looking in my direction and chatting. "Those women are talking about me, I know it," I muttered. "Betsy, every woman here is talking about every other woman," Kip replied cheerfully. "Get over it."

One of the women I spoke to is a grandmother six times over. Many others are divorced. One of the guys lives in Columbus, Ohio, and commutes to his job in Denver (and he was very cheerful while he told us about it; I think they must be paying him a king's ransom). Observing some of the women, Kip said he wished he owned a tanning salon in Bismarck, because he would be rich.

And so we didn't go to the Saturday night reunion event. Instead, I took Kip and Andrew to the Seven Seas restaurant in Mandan and bought Kip a South American steak, the restaurant's signature dish for the last 40 years, at least, and which is just as good as I remembered. We had a lovely time.

I'm glad I went, but I think the 30th is the last time I'll be attending a class reunion. I like my life now much better.

WHAT I'M READING

Duh. I'm also collecting books to take on vacation with me in two weeks; so far I have amassed:

"The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien
"Evil, Inc.' by Glenn Kaplan
"A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini
"The Last Summer (of You and Me)" by Ann Brashares (I haven't really cared much
for the last few "Traveling Pants" books, but this is allegedly her first adult
novel, so I'll give it a chance)
"My Summer of Southern Discomfort" by Stephanie Gayle
The new Jackie Collins. I know, shut up.

I'M ON GOODREADS.COM

Bethany and Kelly and Megan are my friends. Anyone else want to friend me? I think if you go here
you can see my reading list and join and add me as a friend, if you wish. I like friends. Friends are good.

ANDREW

On the way home yesterday, he announced that he was going to let us know whenever he spied a "leaping" willow. (We have a large weeping willow outside our house, and he is fond of it.) We also passed a Wal-Mart truck at one point, and he and I discussed what it might have inside. He said it was probably taking IPots to a Wal-Mart somewhere.

I can't bear to correct him. He's already got a great vocabulary for a
6-year-old; he'll figure it out eventually, and in the meantime I find it charming.

WHAT I'M WEARING

Black gauchos, my standard bronze sandals, a short-sleeved white blouse and the cutest black vest with buckles and other adornments that I found at a rummage sale a few weeks ago for $2 and on which I've gotten four compliments today. (That's 50 cents per compliment, if you're keeping track.)

I wish everyone a happy week. Watch out for eyestrain, kids.