What I Been Done Gone Doing

Well, okay, part of it is just I got lazy, so there. The other part is a little bit of self/client preservation. I've been dying to tell you about my job, and just didn't know how.

Remember back when that guy found me and I freaked out and cleaned up the blog and took down anything that identified me outside of my picture and email? If you notice in the comments of that post, another person who also counsels people commented about professional concerns... which at the time was not the issue.

Well, it kind of is, now, for more than one reason.

Reason number one for avoiding writing was actually more to protect the people who see me professionally. I love my job. I mean, I LOVE my job. Some (not all, but some) of the funniest, most fascinating and poignant things that happen in my life these days happen in my office. I can't tell these stories now; they're too new, too fresh, too relevant to the people who make up my caseload. I don't want to take a chance that one of them could be identified by someone who knows me and also happens to know the client. It's a small town. 

The second reason is concern that one of the people I see for work might find this blog. I think it just makes the lines a little too blurry. It's taken many months to try to figure out how to tell my readers what my job actually is without immediately creating a veritable Google hot spot for the population I serve. I'm keenly aware of how search engines find me. If you are finding this post somewhat enigmatic, it's supposed to be, I'm trying to avoid keywords.

I think I've finally figured out how to clarify my occupation, but hopefully fly under the search engine radar.

I started out as something of an assistant but I am now responsible for my own caseload in a town near where I live. My clients have issues with items that create false states of well-being, of emotion, and/or of reality. Most of them come to me through the strenuous suggestions of the judiciary. The company I work for contracts with the judiciary for the services I provide.

Hopefully, that was clear. As mud. At least for the search engines.

Hopefully I can find ways to tell you how much I love my job without telling too much.

Hopefully, God will use me to help Him make a positive difference in my clients' lives. I know He's used them to make positive differences in mine.

Hopefully. :-)

Nerds

I decided to get in touch with my inner nerd. My true self. The one I hid in high school by avoiding anything that didn't seem cool. I decided to start with the basics.

So as I type this, I'm watching TNG (Google it) and fighting the urge to send a text to Blog Kirk and ask him why the guys in Shuttle Bay II didn't get sucked out the great big door when it opened. Shouldn't they have brought the shuttle in, closed the door and then done some kinda vapor lock thingy before they went in there?  And did Picard just kill himself from another dimension?

"Ooooh, I HATE when one of my crew gets sucked out into space!"

A few weeks ago, Kirk and I had dinner at a chinese place. We were discussing Bones McCoy. Kirk (the blog Kirk, not the real one) said Bones had been married at one time and had a daughter.

Me: "No way! I'm almost done with Season 3 and Bones just got done saying how he's almost always been lonely!"

Blog Kirk: "He does."

"There is no way Bones would go gallivanting all over space if he had a daughter waiting on some planet."

"It may be from one of the Star Trek books, but I'm sure he does."

"Did Gene Roddenberry write it?"

"No."

(As I got up to go back to the buffet) "Then it ain't cannon."*

(Somebody help me, did that REALLY come out of my mouth?)

So, um, yeah. I'm a nerd.

I think everyone around me already knew it, even from way back in high school. Still, I avoided science fiction like the plague lest someone suspect. I appreciate those of you from back in the day, for letting me hang on to my illusion of cool... My fragile ego couldn't have stood knowing that you knew.

So thanks to you all,  but that facade?

I don't need it anymore.


* You can look up what that means, too. If you already know, you might be as nerdy as me.
Oh, and the truth is, I wrote this one weeks ago, just forgot to finish and post it. I'm well into DS9, now.

Today's Date Says It All

I write the date a lot for work. Every time I wrote it today, I couldn't  help but pause, just for a second.

I remembered how it felt that day... 10 days before our first little girl was born... looking at my belly and thinking: what kind of world are we bringing this baby into?

I just watched some tribute videos and I'll admit, I shed a few tears.

Still, it turned out to be a decent world after all... you just have to know how to choose where to look, and where to focus.



*Yeah, yeah I've been on hiatus for awhile. See, I went out and got a REAL job, and it takes time.. I've been writing the explanation post in my head for a couple days. Gimme a few more.

Five Years In

Five years.

Deat died five years ago, February 23, 2008.

In some ways, it doesn't seem so far in the past. When I look at what's changed between then and now, it seems like a long, long time. P.D. and B.B. aren't 6 and 2 years old anymore; they're 11 and 7. My youngest is older, now, than my oldest was, then. 

I've been building up toward this post for several weeks; unsure of what I wanted to say but sure that I needed to say SOMETHING. I decided to include an inventory similar to one I've used with clients to see if those ideas lead somewhere interesting. They did for a bit, but it still took me 3 more days to finally finish.

Family - Deat and I hoped to foster a sense of "all for one and one for all" in our family culture. It's hard to be objective, but I like to think of us as a tight little team. I think the girls understand that we depend on each other, and we each have to contribute to make this thing run smoothly. I think in some ways the adversity probably bonded us a bit tighter from necessity. I will admit, I still wish the girls' had the benefit of Deat's life perspective to compare and contrast with mine as they decide for themselves where their values and priorities lie. Luckily, I have a pretty good memory and share as much of who he was with them as I can.

As for extended family, My parents and siblings still live in or near P-town, Deat's are still in J-town, and all of them are still my family. Sometimes folks are surprised to learn I have a close relationship with Deat's parents and his brother and family. It's hard for me to imagine the kind of pain it would be to lose them, too.

Friendships and Leisure Activities - In my married life: Deat was my very best friend; Sabrina filled most any of the gaps in between... not to mention that the girls were small and there just wasn't room or time for outside socializing.

Five years later: Over time, God has blessed us with a tight support network of friends to hang with. In just the past year we've been to several cookouts, taken a group trip to the Knoxville Zoo, a group trip to the aquarium in Gatlinburg, went to and hosted Christmas parties, hosted a five-family yard sale, had several get-togethers with just the Ladies and other get-togethers for the whole families, both here and at others' homes, had overnight guests from out of town twice, had  Theatre Babies coming over for dinner, participated and performed in a few plays.

The common theme of all these activities?  Lots of love and laughter. I can't imagine being more blessed than we are.

Health/Exercise - See previous post

Work/Career/Education - Big changes there. In February 2008 I was in my 9th year as a membership representative for the nation's largest small business lobby. I signed up new members through cold calling; renewed existing members through delivery of an annual progress report. I had a large territory that extended into several counties. And I soon realized I had no more desire to get out of the truck and actually DO my job than the man in the moon.

Part of the problem was that I traditionally gave a very folksy pitch that included anecdotes about the things my husband would say. I didn't know how to adjust it to take Deat out of it. Add to that plain old grief and situational depression; I didn't have much desire to talk to anyone; much less about the politics that were often of more interest to Deat than to me.

I realized part of the reason I loved the job was because I "shared" it with Deat: I just didn't want to do it anymore, but had no idea what I could do. So God told me. In January of 2010, I returned to school, and in 2012 I finished my M.Ed. in Counseling and Human Development.

Today I am a licensed counseling associate working for an agency. Interesting that I left my old job in part because I shared so much of my own life in it, and moved to a job where my experiences help me to relate to my clients, but the less I discuss my own life, the better.

Most important lesson of late: Empathy does not mean putting MYSELF in the client's shoes; I know how I think and it's unlikely that the client thinks the way I do. Empathy is closer to understanding how my client feels about the shoes he or she is wearing.

With that in mind, I do want to share a bit about the shoes I wear and what they mean to me:

1. I am not broken and I don't want to be treated that way. I've moved through the worst of my grief. If anything, I'm less vulnerable: Very little about the future scares me anymore. The worst thing I could imagine happening, happened, but I survived it. I'm here, my girls are here, and we're okay.

Am I the same person I was five, six years ago? No. I wasn't the same person, in 2008 that I had been in 2003, either. If I seem quirky and strange, well, believe it or not, I was quirky and strange before I became a widow, before I became a wife. T.L. can attest to that.

2. My life doesn't need "fixing." I don't need a husband. I don't need a boyfriend. I don't need a shoulder to cry on. I don't need a substitute father for my girls. If I need help, I ask for it. Our gang of friends includes some really fantastic examples of upstanding faith-filled men who look out for us. I also have an awesome brother and brothers-in-law. I have plenty of models to help me show the girls how a good man conducts himself so they'll know when they're old enough to start evaluating their own potential suitors. (And with that bunch of fellas looking out for my girls, I feel sorry for the first guy to come calling!)

For me, I'm not saying I'm opposed to a romantic relationship. I'm clarifying: if I do have a man in my life, it will be because I allow him to be, not because I need him to save me from the life I have. Right at the moment, I don't see a great deal of free time to pursue such a relationship, but if I did find room, let me add a warning: if I complain, don't try to fix it, try listening... that's probably all I want.

3: I see myself as blessed. And that's how I want you to see me. Don't cry for me for the loss of my husband; rejoice with me that I had the privilege to be his wife. I got to be married to the greatest guy I ever knew for almost 9 years, and I have the wonderful second family he left me, as well as two beautiful girls to carry on his legacy. Why would you feel sorry for that? My challenges of the past  five years weren't/aren't greater or lesser than yours. They were/are just different.

Finally, I won't pretend that I was Miss Strong and Brave all the time. There were periods in there that were truly horrible, and feelings I hope I never experience again. Do I still miss Deat and wish he were here? Without question. Little things can still bring fresh pain. That said, as time goes on, it does get more bearable, and easier to live with.

At some point the "new" normal stops being the new normal, and without fanfare, it becomes simply, THE normal. The resentment of not living the life you had planned gives way to acceptance of the blessings in the life you still have.

To paraphrase the reminder plaque our beloved neighbor, Miss G. (also widowed), plunked down on my end table on a day when I came to her crying and struggling:

"It's (still) a wonderful life!"

But They Don't Fall Down...

Sooo, Weight Watchers

I've debated including this update, because most of you come here via my Facebook page and have already seen this picture:

The picture on the left was taken the first weekend in May, 2012.
The one on the right, the last week in August, 2012

Exciting, right? Except after that, it slooooowwwwwed waaaaay doooown.. I've lost 10 more pounds since then, but I've been fighting with the same 3-4 pounds since November. Sigh. 

I've decided it's because right now, outside, it gets too dark, too early, for me to get out and walk;

it's too cold to drag the girls out with me;

Michelle isn't coming over to walk;...

And, um, I'm lazy.

My other favorite excuse is that I hate shopping and if I lose much more I will have to go, at least to Goodwill, for some "in between clothes"... in between the size I am now and the size I want to be. Why invest real money in clothes you don't plan to stay in, right?

The positives remain: when I add weight back on, it doesn't stay there. Also, I still weigh 10 pounds less than I did BEFORE I quit smoking. Kidding aside, I truly believe when I get my exercise regimen going again I will begin losing more consistently again.

Unless I keep doing stuff like I did tonight. 

Many of you know a little about the Weight Watcher's system. Different foods have different point values, your mission is to try to keep your daily points intake as close as possible to the daily points values assigned to you based on your current height and weight. I started out with 35 points per day, I am now allotted 30. (You get rewarded for success by getting your daily points lowered... it rather seems counter intuitive, like a punishment for victory, doesn't it? I digress.)

Points won't matter, however, if you don't TRACK them. The online tracker even has recipe builder so you can figure out points-values and track your home-cooked recipes before you ever make them. For the first several months, before I took a bite of anything I already had it tracked online.

Most fresh fruits and vegetables are assigned zero points: this offers motivation to include more fruits and vegetables in your daily intake. More fruits and vegetables = healthier lifestyle. That part of the program has really worked for me. My cart at Kroger is already half-full before I ever get out of produce. After some time using the tracker, you begin to figure out how to make better food choices on your own. The problem is getting too cocky...

I've learned to experiment more: I watch for and try lots of different vegetable side dishes with supper. Today I found a recipe for Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Walnuts. Sounds good and healthy, right? No need to track it before supper, I was too busy cooking. The girls didn't like it; I thought it was delicious. So, I proceeded to eat it. All of it. Better than eating more mashed potatoes, right?

Except: 

See those arrows pointing to the FOUR points per serving?
Tonight's recipe made, um FOUR servings

The walnuts helped kill it, but yeah, 16 points worth, over half of the points I'm allowed per day, of Brussels Sprouts.

Destroyed my points for the day.

It's just not fair.

Brussels Sprouts should be NEGATIVE points just for their very nature of BEING Brussels Sprouts*.

If I can just convince my hips of that... 

That's okay though. I may not be moving as fast but I'm still moving forward, wobbling along...

*Okay, I'll fess up, I LOVE Brussels Sprouts. However, nobody else does, so I still contend that they should be negative points.

But Then I'd Have to Kill Ya...

So I lied. Sue me. (Um, that's figurative. I mean, you could sue me, but I just recently got the first full-time job I've had in the last 3 years... flush with cash, I ain't.)

What did I lie about? I said I'd tell you about my new job. But I won't. Much. If at all.

This is hard for me. I'm really a fairly wide-open person in real life as well as on here. I spent a great deal of time weighing the pros and cons. The problem is my profession.

Yes, I'm still a counselor. A bona fide got-the-master's, got-the-preliminary-license counselor... yaay me! Some of you virtually walked the road to reach this point with me.

I can tell you that on the day of my interview for this job, I overslept. WAY overslept. I had to go meet the MC (my former boss and internship supervisor) at a restaurant to pick up a reference letter to take with me... so I had to go meet with him and on to my interview with only a quick clean up and no shower. As I explained to the MC, in my efforts to set my alarm a little earlier to give myself MORE time to get ready the night before, I somehow didn't manage to get the alarm turned back on.

The MC: Do they know about that gun you carry?

Me: What gun?

The MC: That one you're always shooting yourself in the foot with...

AHEM!

As for the blog, the concern lies in all that professional counseling entails. One of the backbones of counseling is confidentiality. Most of my readers are personal friends; they know me, and generally know where I live. Luckily, in my previous job, I didn't work in the same town where I lived... and NONE of my friends know/knew the MC. (He made great blog fodder, who needed to talk about clients?) In my new position, in this community, if I named my employer and/or told stories about my clients, I would risk exposing the private information entrusted to me. I can't do that.

Counselors also have strive to keep the sessions and the relationship focused on the client, not on the counselor. Self-disclosure can have value, but only if it enhances the client's understanding. If the disclosure does not serve a definite purpose, it should be avoided. I am in the helping relationship to provide a service to the client, not to make a friend or be a friend; not to serve my own interests or open up my life for comparative scrutiny. My clients don't need to concern themselves with the happenings in my life.

A little over a year ago, someone Googled some basic information about me and found this blog. With the above principles in mind, I went through and removed as much identifying information as I could. While my blog is open to the public, it's not as widely read as I had hoped it would be. For my purposes as a counselor, this is good news. The odds that one of my clients would stumble upon my blog are fairly slim. I need to keep it that way as much as I can.

So, I won't be talking about work, much. If I can tell you a story and keep the other interests securely protected, I might, but I just don't envision that happening. Unless, I get an oddly fascinating and amusing co-worker.

Maybe I should see if the MC wants to come work at this new place, too.

I Got My Chance, and I Said Those Things... Still...

I started a new job yesterday. I'm pleased about it... my first REAL position after grad-school and licensure and all that... I'll share more with you about it after I get more settled.

This morning I drove down to our B-burg office. The weather was beautiful on that twisty little trail, with the sun peeking though the trees. I drove that road fairly often in the "before" days, before I left sales, before I lost my drive to sell, before the whole world changed. I smiled, remembering.

Then, this song came through the radio. Actually a pretty good driving/singing song:

Stop reading, just listen a minute, please.

I love this song. I sang along.

Then I remembered: I could never get through it without tears. I've tried four times today... still can't.

I don't know when the song actually came out. I first took note of it about 6 months after Deat's death.

Did I say...

It isn't even appropriate; I've always been comforted in knowing we  had nothing left unsaid.

Maybe its the futility of those words now. Did I say... Maybe it's that I'll never get to say them to him again... Did I say... though when I hear them in the song they're just as true now as they ever were.

Did I say...

I certainly didn't expect the song to impact me that way, today. It's been almost five years.

Maybe for all my bravado about starting to date, part of me still scowls, and sees futility in that: I know what combination of traits once brought me joy and met my needs, is it possible that different one could even begin to come close?

I don't know. Hiding out at home hasn't done much for me. We'll see.

But I sure do miss the one I had.

Perhaps I just needed to know, or just say out loud, that I always will.

Don't Let the Pigeon...

What is it about the mildly obscure reference that makes it so much more amusing? You know the jokes I mean, the ones that make you laugh, not only because of the humor behind them, but because of the feeling that you're one of only a certain group who will truly "get" the joke.

I used to think there was a bit of elitism to it, "I'm one of this group, you're not, ha ha," but as I get older, I believe it's not the EX-clusion of others, but the IN-clusion of the group that makes it all the more fun.

These references take on two similar, yet different, forms: the popular/public culture form, and the "I get it because I was there" form.

We turned off the cable TV around here years ago, so, with a little help from Amazon, I only recently learned how to properly use "Bazinga" in a sentence. Luckily, a few years ago memes came along: they were quick, funny, and offered me some inclusion despite my busy schedule: parenthood and illness just didn't allow me to stay informed: Ain't nobody got time for that! (sorry, had to be done... Harold, Heather, there's your shout-out.)

Also, parenthood offers it's own culture. For example, I know who this guy is:

Do you know this guy? No? Well you can go look him up,
just like I have to do, on the actual, "hip" pop culture references...

Wait! Are things "hip," "cool," "boss," or something else, nowadays?

He's more important later...

Your References

Anyway, the "I get it because I was there" kind... I try to give that to you  guys. I make internal references and link to them... old posts, people, etc. I keep hoping this will inspire a cult following. It hasn't worked so much for me, but, from my stat counters I can tell that the MC (see labels on the right) had his own fan club for a time there.

I also notice my life sometimes runs in themes, so I try to share and label those for you, too. See how good I am to you people? Today, I'm even, once again, putting the laundry off for you!

You may have noticed, (no you didn't, who am I kidding?) that the newest label added to the group is "Pets and Animal Oddities". You may have believed that label originated in the recent Pre-Teen Titan or Hedgehog Harassment posts. (Oh dear God, somebody stop me I'm obsessed with linking!) 

Actually, the theme began a couple months ago with her:

You have to imagine her smaller and much scrawnier.

The Cat and The Cookies

This little creature started hanging out on my back porch in late November. I got tired of tripping over Sophie the Wonder Dog's food bowls, so I told the girls that we'd have to leave Sophie's food outside... which above creature took as an invitation to partake. I really didn't mind, she was so skinny, if she needed to eat, let her. I was sure Sophie would run her off, soon. Taking a note from B.B.'s reading homework, we started referring to her as Amelia Bedelia.

Why did you have to be there? On the second Sunday in December every year, we host our annual Cookie Party... an all-day affair. While once small, the Cookie Party now includes invites to all the theatre babies and their families, resulting in some 50 or so of our friends, adults and children, over the course of the day. We spend the early afternoon cutting out, baking and decorating cookies until the kids get bored (somewhere during the second batch) then spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out, chatting, kids playing, until early evening when we order pizzas for whomever is left. (This year we needed 8 pizzas.) 

The house is full; the atmosphere is insane. It's my very favorite day of the year! 

This is actually from one of the tamer parties from years past.
You get the idea...

Every year some private jokes emerge that last a month or two, some endure. Travis will never live down burning out my mixer one year. This year produced the Jonathan Action Figure, "This is Danny and He's a Free Agent." and The Cat That Invaded. 

See how sweet and timid that little face above looks? Not so. Every time the back door opened, she was trying to get in. 

"Kelly, is  your cat allowed in?"

"No, catch her, that's not my cat."

"Kelly, where did you get that pretty cat on the porch?"

"I don't know, that's not my cat. She just likes to hang out here."

"Why does B.B. call her 'Amelia'?"

"Uh, because that's what, I, uh,  named her."

Knowing look and nod. (I hate those!)

Around late afternoon, despite SIX people sitting around the kitchen table, she managed to GET ON TOP of said table and sample a little bit of the frosting from several bowls and the tops of several cookies remaining there. Heather spotted her, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and with definite prejudice, unceremoniously dumped her out the door.

"Kelly, your cat ruined all the leftovers."

"THAT'S NOT MY CAT!"

"Somebody needs to tell her that."

In the following weeks I got several queries as to how the "cat that was not mine" was doing. Har de har har.

At Christmas break, as we were leaving to go visit family, I warned the girls that she would likely be gone upon our return. Sophie would be traveling with us, and Sophie's absence would also mean the absence of Sophie's food; I told the girls I felt sure the cat would find another family, though. After all, she was agreeable and started purring the second a person picked her up... who wouldn't love her? I mean, I could manage not to love her... but others would fall prey to those sweet little, precious little charms... AHEM!

When we returned, I had to issue a Facebook release and eat my words:

Just in case anyone missed Miss G.'s contribution to the thread... see below.

Sigh. God (with Miss G.'s help) decided we needed a cat.

The Fish 

And with that little inch came the Hedgehog mile. I told P.D. a couple days ago that if she could save up and pay for it, along with all the supplies, she could have her beloved hedgehog. 

I forgot that Miss B.B. saves all her birthday money and had quite a stash in place. Enough to get a whole fish starter tank going. Enough that, in the interest of fairness, we tromped out to Walmart last night to get supplies to get the aquarium started and will be tromping out tonight to get the fish to live in it. 

B.B. initially wanted to put the fish in her room, but I put the kibosh on that. (Since I'm obviously so good at setting limits around here.) She complained, how would anyone know that they were HER fish?

Problem Solved!

The Joke's on Who?

It would seem the girls are fairly innocent in all this, wouldn't it? It would seem all these additions are happy accidents; who knew Danny and Miss G. would turn out to be such great allies? It might even seem that they don't realize the distress I would naturally feel at going from merely Sophie the Wonder Dog, to a soon-to-be-four-animal household.

Here's where you kind of have to be a parent and kind of have to be "in-on" the joke. As my girls, B.B. in particular, apparently are, and have been, "in-on" this joke the whole time. 

Yesterday, B.B. brought home her "Don't Let the Pigeon" assignment from her first grade class.

(Aside, to Miss J., as promised, lots and lots of pictures)

Hedgehog Harassment

Today's post is something new to JKH, a Facebook-Text Message-Drawing media extravaganza, with very little actual writing on my part.

Warning: this post will be difficult to view on a phone.

I only want to record a fraction of the campaign waged against me and my wishes. If I give in, you'll know I made a valiant effort against the tide... I say "only a fraction" because I could only screenshot my text messages with Danny back to the 13th...

It started innocently enough...

Thursday January 10
Mode: Facebook

Friday & Saturday, January 11 & 12

Filly can attest, I got numerous harassing texts on Friday... mostly referring to a hedgehog as a "little precious" à la Gollum. (Important later) Saturday was so crazy I don't think either of the Hedgehog team was on task.

Sunday, January 13

Mode: Facebook

The actual video is below... and yeah, the little sucker IS indescribably cute. (be strong, be strong...)

Monday, January 14

Mode: Text

And on Facebook: 

She's either gonna be a salesperson, a lawyer or a carnival barker...

Tuesday, January 15

Mode: Text Messaging

(For reference, see "Pre-Teen Titan")

Mode: HOMEWORK?

And fnally, the pièce de résistance also happened to fall in the correct order chronologically. P.D. brought home her most recent English assignment yesterday evening, an illustrated poem.

Haiku de Hedgehog

Cold Hedgehog in sock

Hiding, waiting for snow's end

Shivering, sleepy

That Just Ain't Right

More catch ups to do for my regular readers... luckily, for readers/friends who already know these "catch up" stories, I may or may not have some new stuff to tie it up in.

Back when I started this blog, I imagined that by this far out, (almost 5 years), I would  either:

a.) Be so entrenched in new-life stuff, the significance of my widowhood would be a faint memory or
b.) Still be so paralyzed by grief I wouldn't get out at all, or ever again. (the idea of the "b." option usually coincided with "One of Those Nights".)

Neither extreme is true. Deat's death, but moreso, his LIFE, still colors my perspective in a myriad of ways. That's okay, both for my life and within the context of this blog. I still hold out the hope that if another widow or widower reads this blog, she or he might find comfort in the kinship of experience. Fewer posts are based around issues of widowhood, but that's okay. It shows that life does go on.

All that said, time to do a catch up and broach a significant topic in widowhood: 

I  WENT  OUT  ON  A  DATE! 

(Err... at least I thought I did). Let me back up and explain.

One of the blessings Deat left me was his friends: not only the ones I knew well but the ones I didn't know at all. One of the latter was a lady from his college days named Georganna. She and I have yet to lay eyes on one another. We "met" on Facebook and through our mutual love for Deat, just kinda "adopted" one another. She's kind, generous with her time and resources, and fantastically funny. 

Back at the beginning of November, George and I were Facebook chatting about the dating scene and how our married friends wanted to see each of us attached to a good man... without considering the lack of acceptable, eligible men asking us out...

Me: LOL! Some of my friends were lecturing me on how I need to date.

I asked them if they knew anyone they liked well enough to set me up with, they said no... 

I said "I rest my case"

George: EXACTLY

wait...

wait...

How old are you?


At this point, I realize what's going on, and I nearly swallow my non-nicotine, but, up until that point in the conversation, relatively-comforting, gum.

Info from George: His name is Danny and he lives RIGHT HERE NEAR ME... He's a great guy... He doesn't have kids but he's great with kids... He's a Great Guy... He's younger than me... He's a GREAT GUY... She used to date him but the distance was just too much so now they're just good friends... HE'S A GREAT GUY...

George: Girl, I called him, I'm on the phone with him right now.

I coughed so hard I spit my non-nicotine and not-even-a-little-comforting-anymore gum across the room.

After some more back-and-forth with George, he and I "friended" one another on Facebook and had a short  instant-message (IM) conversation... mostly about the stuff we were seeing on one another's pages.

The following day (a Friday) at about 6, Danny said hello again via IM. After a few minutes, he suggested we meet.

Danny: Are you free later? Maybe for a game of pool? Tho, I'm sure you will win lol
Nothing major.....just to hang out for a few... if you don't wanna, I understand. No pressure. 

(Nice, considerate invitation, right?)

Me: Geez, I would love to, but I don't have a babysitter!

(Farther along in the conversation)

Danny: "A" for effort, that was you TRYING to trash talk...  When we play, I'll only use half a Q & still win. 

Me: In. your. dreams.

Danny: Lol... We'll play 8 ball, I'll spot you 5 balls.... That way I might get a challenge out of you.

Me: (Dialing babysitter)

Danny: See, trash talk

Me: Son, I will roll over you like a Mack Truck

Danny: Awe....I'll roll over alright, roll over n let you win.

Me: Oh, and you ain't gotta spot me a dang thing! Do you KNOW who you're talking to?

The guy barely knew me, but already knew me: if you really want to get me out of the house, get my dander up. We met at the local bowling alley, the only place I could think of with pool tables.

How did it go? Let's just say I didn't use the rack much that night. I considered not telling how it went, to spare Danny any FURTHER embarrassment... but I think it's a good lesson:  don't knock my game, dude.

After Danny got tired of getting beat we got tired of playing, he suggested we go eat. By that time, I felt comfortable with him so I left my car at the bowling alley and rode with him. I ate dinner earlier with the girls so I had a milkshake while he ate. (Yes, it was within my Weight Watchers points... well, sort of...).

We talked, and talked, and talked and talked. (He would say I did, but he'd be lying. He helped. A LOT.) I tried not to talk  about Deat too much, but Danny seemed completely comfortable even when I did mention him. We talked about how, from experience, I felt that "friends-first" made the best relationships. We talked a lot about faith and trying to follow the Bible... and how those issues come into play when dating. (On the mental list of what I want, a man who loves God, CHECK!) 

I really, really enjoyed myself. When we got back to my car, he walked me to it and gave me a hug goodbye.

Whew! Yes, I've been out a few other times since Deat's death... I'd been kissed.  But, I'd known 2 of them for about 20 years each and the other one for at least 6 years. The idea of kissing somebody REALLY NEW kinda freaked me out.

A couple nights later,  I was back at the bowling alley, playing pool with the girls and some of my theatre babies... Danny sent me a text and I invited him to join us. Again, had a great time. Again, he hugged me bye. Another bullet dodged... but I'm starting to sweat it. 

(What if I actually like this guy more than as just an excuse to get out of the house*... What if he likes ME? What if sometime soon he decides he WANTS to kiss me? What do I do, then?)

The following week Danny called and we went to lunch on his day off. We were again talking about relationships and he said that he felt the best move he could make for himself at that time was to stick to just friendships. He said he felt that staying away from romantic relationships was what he needed.

 (Wait, did I just get friend-zoned? You mean he DOESN'T want to kiss me? Why the heck not? I'm cute, kinda, sorta, maybe. Well, darn it, I USED to be! If I was him, I'd want to kiss me... SHEESH!)

He was right. (Danny, if you're reading this, don't get used to me saying that. For the most part, everyone knows you just ain't right...) Oh, and he's AWESOME! Just ask him** 

We've developed a pretty great little friendship. He's my male perspective with no pressure. I like to think I'm his sounding board, too. If I'm not, well, then he just talks too much. It also frees things up for him to come "hang out" with the girls and me. It's okay that my girls love Danny. I very rarely "break up" with a friend, so they get to keep THEIR friend, too. 

(Unfortunately, he and P.D. have joined forces on the hedgehog campaign... but that's another post.)

And finally, I've wondered, if I started dating fairly regularly... do I have to write about each and every one I go out with? Not now, I don't. 

Danny is a pretty entertaining all by himself, and I already got his permission to talk about him in the blog. He'll keep ya'll amused enough that I may or may not tell you about Donny (yes, I used their real names. I can't make this stuff up).

 'Cause kissing (OR not kissing) and telling, well that just ain't right. 

* Danny's gonna read this. That's me, trash-talkin'.

** Sarcasm alert

Pre-teen Titan?

P.D. is a funny kid. If she wants something, she researches it and collects all the facts to decide whether and how much she truly wants it. By the time she presents it to me, she knows her subject inside and out. 

She's been pondering unusual pets since before Christmas. For a some time, she wanted a breed of turtle called a Red-eared Slider. She filled me with enough facts and trivia that if someone brought me one, I'd not only recognize it; I could diagnose any ailments it might have.

Recently, her interest has turned to hedgehogs.

Conversation this morning before school:

P.D.: They start hissing and panting to warn you if you handle them too much. If I got a hedgehog I would name him, "Kraken".

Me: Okay, I'll bite, why "Kraken"? I thought you just said hedgehogs weren't very aggressive?"

P.D.: "Because then if one of B.B.'s friends came over and wouldn't put him down, I could say...

"RELEASE THE KRAKEN!"

(I can totally see that face at 1:28 on P.D. if they didn't listen...)

Instant Gratification

Oooh the cobwebs were even worse this time!

Soooo I took a blog sabbatical (Blobatical?) for various reasons, but now I'm back and hopefully will write/post with some consistency for a bit. The source of my return? Well, that started with Kirk*. Kirk became involved with the Treehouse Poets Series (at the Treehouse Cafe and Bakery, thus the name) and it piqued my interest, so in December I grabbed an old poem and went.

(On a side note, on that first night I went outside to talk with some folks and smoked two Marlboro full-flavor menthol cigarettes while chatting. Yeah, I know. Don't worry, it bit me. I ended up having to go to a gas station and throw up... and it still took me another couple hours before I felt well enough to drive back to L-town. Serves me right, I guess...)


Smoking fiasco aside, I had a good time. Everyone I met was very welcoming; I heard some very talented writers speak, and several made kind comments about my poem as well. I decided I'd go back.

As the date for the next poetry night neared, I realized I was either going to need to go dig old notebooks out of storage or get poetry inspiration and write one quickly to have an offering. I remembered that at the previous get together one author read a sample of his fiction instead of poetry, and it occured to me: I have ALL kinds of samples of my writing RIGHT HERE. So I read blog entries.

A scene from the Treehouse Poets Series #4. Or, in the interest of offering quality entertainment, "Where's Waldo?" only 1. Without Waldo and 2.With me and 3. I'm not wearing the goofy hat. G'head, click the picture.

To introduce the blog and the original theme, I chose to print out and read "Answers" (which, at least, ends on something of  an "up" note) and "One of Those Nights" (which, decidedly, does not). As I finished reading and looked out at the now-somber faces in the crowd, I realized I had made some fairly gut-wrenching selections... and I was the last speaker slated. I hated the idea of the night ending on such a sorrowful note. Luckily, Travis found a couple more readers (both excellent).

The one other issue eating at me was the idea of leaving the audience with the impression that I might still be in the dark place from "One of Those Nights." I had noticed several authors reading from their phones, so called up JKH on my phone and raised my hand to read just one more selection: "Dealing with Frustration in a Therapuetically and Nutritionally Sound Manner".

And suddenly, something magical happened... they were laughing... in all the right places!

What.     a.     Rush.

It was so great, I can't even come up with an appropriately humorous and hyperbolic simile for intoxication to try and illicit the standard appropriately cheap chuckle that should go right here!

Don't get me wrong, I love writing for you people but as I've told you before, I crave your comments, your reactions to what I write. I am now in love with every single person attending the Treehouse Poets Series who offered me those exhilarating morsels of merriment...

Sigh... I believe I'll be "jonesin'" for them until next month!

As I returned to my seat to bask in the joy of the moment, the second part of my motivation for using blog entries happened: someone asked me to repeat my blog address. And someone else. And someone else... And Travis put it on the Treehouse Poets Series Facebook page. I have to write regular posts now, or let them down.

Luckily, I have lots to catch my regular readers (if they come back) up on. I started to do all the catch-ups in one post, but I might need material until the next interesting thing happens... and with all the link jumping, this post is confusing enough!

Thanks Treehouse Poets, you're helping me breathe new life into this old blog!

*Who is Kirk? Kirk is someone better explained after much more alcohol than I plan on ever consuming at one sitting again... :-P

Um, No Pressure...

Holy cow holy cow holy cow! I have to type fast, I've just been PUBLICIZED!!!! Longer post coming later today, just got to have SOMETHING current on here!