Blast From the Past.

So I was just at Garden Street Market, minding my own business (staring at the Entenmann's, willing one of the chocolate-frosted chocolate cakes to morph into a marshmallow-frosted chocolate cake), when I heard a familiar giggle. Weirdly enough, I knew exactly who it was without even looking, even though I hadn't heard that laugh since I graduated from high school.

Not counting my cousin's wedding, I haven't unexpectedly run into anyone from Maranacook in a million years (well, about nine, I guess). It was crazy. And so we stood in front of the Entenmann's for about a half-hour and talked about what people were up to and who we were in touch with, etc. It was a little awkward, which is bound to happen, but not too bad. She admitted to being one of those people that shows everyone her baby's photo, and proceeded to do so, but coming from her it was nice and funny and not annoying or lame.

It ended really well, because neither of us felt the need to say, "Oh, yeah, what's your number, yeah, we'll definitely get together blah blah blah...". Because really, that's usually a load of crap.