I’m down with my nephew this weekend, walking through town with my mother, and two people asked me how old my son was. It’s hard explaining no, not my kid. It could be – and since it’s the son of my twin brother it literally Could be. Got me thinking.

Our 10 year high school reunion is coming up in a month. My co-worker asked me where I think I stand in the graduating class and the answer wasn’t great. Ten years is all about relationships and appearances – neither of which I’m very good at.

So what would I say? What is my “elevator pitch” on what I’ve been up to for the last decade? Let’s see . . .

‘I graduated from college with a BA in English and never left. Now I monitor our software system and get worked up over people forgetting to tell me about subject codes.’

‘After college I won a Room to Move contest meaning the Internet voted me most pathetic 20-something and paid me to fix the problem.’

‘Well my brother is married with a great job and an adorable son. I . . . went to their wedding . . .’

‘My job? I work a lot of hours and have a long title that will bore you which loosely translates to Office Fixer and Girl Who Attracts Work But Repels Raises.’

The last decade broken down into tweets. Not all that exciting to look at. Or probably to talk about really. Maybe my problem is that I never managed to be very good at the small talk. I’m the one with the jokes and the quips and the listener who makes sarcastic, pithy comments. And maybe I’m not as happy with where I am as I want to be. And I’ll be the girl on the wall again who couldn’t get anyone to notice her to dance and expected to stand there with a smile while people who are remembered more step front and center to reminicse. Me with the bad memory who can’t remember names and sometimes only faces.

Yeah, that sure sounds like a lot of fun. There’s an open bar – maybe I’ll just plan on drinking my weight in Tequilla Sunrises . . .