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

Cheat Post

Besides internally debating whether to tell you people about the topic-I-say-I-am-avoiding, I've also been busy working on the "Book of Me" for my Life-cycle Class. I have different assignments for different pages of the book.

I am NOT creative in visual arts. I wish I was. In fact, I wished SO HARD that I was, my journalism degree has a emphasis in advertising and PR... I designed ads for much of the early part of my after-college career. I'm pretty good at figuring out how to use publishing software. I know what I like when I see it. I can create a decent logo and "thematic plan" for company stationery. I can re-create what I see with the right tools, but creating visual magnificence in my own?

Uh, not really.

So, this assignment has been taxing to say the least. I want my stuff to be phenomenal... but the grade doesn't require visual phenomenal. I don't think I'm capable of visual phenomenal anyway. I settled for quick and dirty.

However, I think Dr. A has been sufficiently impressed at my ability to accomplish the unstated goals, while effectively rebelling against the stated parameters, of each and every assignment. Mostly 'cause I'm just charming enough to get by with it. If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle 'em....*

Anyway, since I've been so busy with that stuff, I'm cheating tonight and posting the first assignment, The "Now" of my Life. The assignment (the abbreviated version) was:

Get a recent picture of yourself. Glue it to the center of the memory-book paper. Cut out symbols from the magazines and catalogs to describe:

• Your greatest achievement 
• A disappointment 
• Your values 
• Relationships that are important for you today 
• Hobbies 
• A wish or wishes for the future **

Glue these symbols around your picture. Try NOT to cut out words,*** because symbols can be more graphic. Once you have your collage, use your writing paper to describe what the symbols mean. Write a summary about yourself as you are today.

(When you read the write up, you have to pretend you don't really know me and haven't read How Widowhood Has Impacted My Life a million times, K? K.)

The phrases correspond to the bold type in the write up.
If you click on the picture it will blow it up. I recommend right-clicking
and opening in another tab or window.

The Now of My Life

As I expected, I had a great deal of difficulty finding “symbols” to represent my life. The assignment specified to try to use symbols instead of words, but no pictures I found seemed to reflect my current experiences, values and mindset. Besides, I love to write, I love words.

Although I don’t expect I will see myself as “Deat’s Widow” forever, our marriage, and his life has been the most relevant factor influencing every aspect of my world during the past 13 years. I know his death and the changes it brought continued to impact nearly every facet of the past 3 and ½, as is reflected in the choices I made for this page. 

We start this page in the top right corner, and move clockwise.

The most important of these is the be well, the theme to recovering from this loss, particularly since I often wondered if “well” was something I’d ever be again. My “little problem solvers” are my daughters, and my motivators when I wasn’t finding motivation in any other realm, when I was “hitting myself in the head.” The three of us were/are: “THE BRAVE,” standing together in the face of a devastating loss and facing the world together. Oh, and we are “Incredibly Nice.”

Still, motivation wasn’t enough. Merely surviving wasn’t enough. Depression and sadness was a dead end. I had to set a goal for the future: to get organized, to find joy in the family life I have instead of lamenting the one we had planned but were denied. Perhaps the most empowering step in that process was making the decision to return to school for my master’s degree.

Our life changes still present challenges, and sometimes not everyone in the house is on board with the sacrifices we have to make to get to this new place… sometimes Mommy’s Little Monster rears her little head. But, Life LIVES in our house. Between the positive changes we’re making, our old friends and the new friends who have come into our lives, I have to say, 

I’m Blessed.

* Five extra points for finishing that phrase

** Ten points for finding every one of those things in the write up. (Hurry, I have to tell Dr. A where they are!)
*** I never have excelled in the "follows directions" column of my report card...

Stopping By for a Brief Catch-up

Hellooooo? Anybody here?

(Wiping off a chair) Here, sit down, sit down, I'll put some coffee on. Things get really dusty around here when I don't come in often enough...

I'm sorry I haven't been here to write, it's not because I didn't want to. For the 4 people who check in regularly, I thought about you the whole time I was gone. I was actually DOING STUFF. (Yaay! There was a time in the history of this blog when I didn't want to leave the house!) I composed entry after entry... in my head.

Out and About

I had one about my last visit with Richie and Wendy (shooting pool of course!) but things were busy so I could only memorialize it in pictures (Mostly on Facebook). Richie beat me to death, Wendy is a doll baby, love them both to pieces... nothing big and new, and we didn't discuss anything amazing or earth-shattering. Then again, with great friends you don't have to, it's enough just be together.

Still not digging how I look in these "we took a shot of ourselves" pictures,
 but I'll get used to it. It's the shot of the other two I really wanted anyway

Miscellaneous

I considered one about how much I'm enjoying visiting while the girls are at theater camp, how much I love my Theatre Babies, but you already know that... I am planning some mischief with my Gusto Girlfriends (the theatre Moms) but since many of them read this blog, I'll have be careful what I report... stay tuned!

I thought about writing one about Dr. P and what a great professor he is... epitome of what a counselor should be and all that... but for the girls in my cohort and me, giving Dr. P a hard time is one of the best parts of Internship Group Supervision class... so I really can't write a whole blog entry being NICE to him...

Then there was the one about...  Never mind.

The MC

The one I most wanted to write is about my new internship for this semester, more specifically, to introduce you to my boss. The Master Counselor is a Vietnam Vet, and a graduate of the same master's program I'm in.  Dr. P commented that my supervisor was very good at what he does; so I entered this internship with a teensy level of hero worship going before I even met him. Add to my preconceived visions of him a deep, all-business voice, a blunt no-nonsense approach to nearly everything, plus a wee bit of (admitted on his part) impatience, and I was almost intimidated into submission....

Best description I can give it: He likes some things a certain way, I'm particular about certain other things... we get together and play musical OCD. I would have written an entire blog about him a couple weeks ago, but privacy is also in his list of hang-ups, so I had to ask permission first, knowing his answer would be a big, fat NO. It took me a week to get up the nerve to ask him.

"I promise not to use your name!'

"Oh, well I guess that's okay then"

I had no intention of using his name in the first place. To me, referring to him as "The Master Counselor" is  infinitely more amusing. I, of course, am "The Counselor's Apprentice."



(No kidding, every now and then when we're having a round and round discussion, I hear the music that starts at around 2:15 start playing in my head. If I'm not careful, I can see the MC resorting to the action at 8:52.)

However, I think we're getting the hang of each other. I'm there to learn, he's willing to teach. He has a ton of experience... seems to enjoy passing his learning along, and he's stinkin' brilliant. (Don't tell him I said that.) Sometimes I learn as much at lunch as I learn in an entire weekend of classes. I bring some technology experience to the table that's come in handy lately, and he makes an effort to let me know it's appreciated... which means a great deal to me. PLUS... he counsels from a holistic perspective, including the spiritual. I think God stuck me right where I needed to be.

Wish I could write more, but there's a pile of laundry the size of a VW Bug on my bed waiting to be folded. (Well, I won't be folding it tonight, but I wanted you to know it got put off so I could get this much typed out.)

I'll try to get back here soon, promise. Lock up on the way out...

I am Not the Devil

But I did go down to Georgia.

Kelly talked me into it. (You know, Kelly, the one in the Brave's hat.) Kelly is convinced that I suffer from self-imposed social impairment. (No, I have classes most weekends and 2 little girls. Anyway...)

His mission, from all the way in Atlanta, is to get me out of the house. He once talked me into calling up a guy here in L-town that I only know in passing to ask him to go to a play after my "date" cancelled on me. (That was a bust, I was embarrassed, but Kelly called it progress.)

He started on me as soon as he found out the girls were going to Myrtle Beach with G & V this week. I told him "no" a dozen times...

Me: Kelly, it's a five hour drive!

Other Kelly: I know you've spent 5 hours or more driving in one day when we worked for NFIB!

If I did come, I could only stay one day.

Yeah, but when are you going to have another chance? One day is better than no day.

It's impractical.

If you keep waiting for practical you'll never go anywhere!

What will your girlfriend think?

She won't care!

I can't afford it.

Don't worry about that, I got it.

I need a pedicure.

We'll do that first thing!

We?

Yeah, I'll get one too, it'll be fun.

On that last one, I figured he REALLY wanted me to visit... but I was still saying no.

Then Friday night/Saturday morning his girlfriend broke up with him. I figured I might as well go. If I didn't, I'd still be spending most of Sunday and Monday on the phone listening to him rehashing the whole relationship and break-up. I wouldn't get anything practical done around here, anyway.

Listening when he needs me to, what I do. That's my contribution to the friendship. Since this blog will tell you what a great friend he is, I figured I'd take this opportunity to throw that in to defend myself. I really do try to pull my weight, friendship-wise. I might even be worth all the nice stuff he did for me.

I set out Sunday morning with idea that this trip would be great to blog about. I was going to make one of those really cute blog-travel-stories I've seen in other people's blogs, complete with pictures. The following is my attempt at that...  Sort of.

Kermit and the Trip Down

Since this would be Kermit's first long trip, I figured it would be a good time to check out how many miles per gallon he'd really get. I kept going after I probably should have already pulled over for gas. I was trying to get the "trip" odometer to an even 300 miles.

I kept thinking, "Boy that gauge says the gas is really low, I wonder why the light hasn't come on..."

If you'll notice, the little gas thingy over on the gas gauge is not lit. Turns
out, it does not light. Now, if you'll look to the left, you'll see that
the gas thingy in the RPM gauge WAS lit... for who knows how long?

Kermit got right at 20 mpg on this trip... less than I had hoped, but better than Daisy would have, so I'm not complaining. Daisy would have keeled over right outside LaFayette. I suppose it would have made getting a picture of the sign easier. The picture below is one of about 5 attempts.

I wanted to get a picture of the LaFayette sign for Daddy,
mostly cause they messed up and didn't spell his name right. 

Right about here (see below) is where I started realizing how little I get out these days. In college I used to go visit Chelle in Columbus, on roads arguably at least as confusing as Atlanta, and I didn't worry. Why is it that, as we age, we lose that sense of invincibility? I accidentally drove past my exit and nearly had a nervous breakdown...

This is I-75 coming into Atlanta. No, I did not properly  frame
the picture. I was too tense from driving in 6 lanes of traffic.

I arrived in Atlanta between 1 and 2 pm. Kelly had me meet him at Cumberland Mall. I was nervous and intimidated, by the whole thing, though I'm not sure why. I hadn't seen him face to face in a while, but this is Kelly: I talk to him almost every day. So yeah, maybe he's right, I really need to get out more.

New Food

He took me to PF Chang's for lunch, since I had never been there. It seemed pretty fancy for lunch to me, but as I was sitting there (feeling a bit like a bumpkin) I realized that several years ago I wouldn't have been even a little uncomfortable. We told our waitress how I was visiting from out of town, blah blah blah. He ordered seared Ahi tuna (read: almost-but-not-quite raw) so I could try it. (Delicious.) The waitress even sensed how out-of-place I felt.

She commented, "That's really sweet."

"What is?"

"He's taking care of you."

Which is the kind of friend Kelly is.

And so the stage was set for Kelly's (Braves-hat Kelly's) plans for my visit: an exercise in taking this Kelly (that would be me) out of her comfort zone but keeping just enough of the familiar that she'll go along with it. From there we went to the mall nail salon, and true to his word, Kelly got a pedicure, too.

In counseling, we'd say he was "modeling a behavior" for me: Willingness to Try New Things.

Having my feet massaged did help me relax, and watching his (pedicurist?) made me laugh. Every time Kelly said something about how good his chair felt, the little Asian lady who was working on his feet looked at me and made a funny face. She cracked me up.

From there, Kelly led me through Atlanta to drop my things off at his place (actually in Decatur, he just moved there last week), have a beer and head right back out.

I was actually trying to get a shot of the really cool building
but before  I could zoom in the light turned green. That's
Kelly's truck turning ahead of me.

New Beverages

We went to Twain's Billiards and Tap. (Could a pub's name possibly sound more like a place I'd love? I think not.) In keeping with the outside-but-inside-my-comfort-zone theme, my new thing to try was crafted ales, but surrounded by the familiarity of pool tables.

This was brilliance on Kelly's part. Let me get my stick in my hand, shoot a couple games, get "into stroke" and I'm comfortable no matter where I am. He picked Mad Happy Pale Ale for me and after I'd had a couple I was completely relaxed and my game was ON. I ran over Kelly like a Mack Truck. (No shame to Kelly there, he doesn't play, and I don't think he much cared. He's awesome like that).

He finally asked the guy practicing on the table next to us if he wanted to play me. An older fella practicing all alone, Kelly and I figured he'd beat me, but I ran over him too. Maybe he was letting me win... those beers had a little bit higher alcohol content and I had three or four so I wouldn't have noticed... but Wendy, if you're reading, tell Richie I shot like God on the pool table. He'll know. Even if I had lost, as "in stroke" as my game felt, it would still have been a win. When we left any nervousness I had felt was gone.

New Goofiness

From there we went back to Kelly's to get blankets and went right back out. First we stopped for snacks, then headed here:

This is the one major park where my family camped several different times as I was growing up, and in keeping with the theme, something familiar, even if I hadn't been there in 25 years. Stone Mountain is the largest piece of granite in the world, and features a huge carving on the side of figures from the confederacy side of the Civil War. At night, they project a huge laser show onto and over the carving. (I'm sure there are samples of it on youtube.) Lots more interesting information about Stone Mountain, especially the history, here.

To give you some perspective, I've seen a photo of a man
 sitting in Robert E. Lee's ear.

People bring blankets and chairs and wait on a grassy hill in front of the mountain for the show to start. There is constantly music blaring from the speakers up until, during, and even for a bit after, the light show.

Down at the bottom of the hill there are always lots of kids
playing and dancing. The girls in the picture are doing
some kind of dance to "All the Single Ladies."

AGAIN, Kelly made me step out of my comfort zone. Somewhere, in some camera belonging to someone I don't know, theres a picture of the two Kellys doing "The Chicken Dance." If I hadn't gotten up with him he would have been standing there beside me, Chicken-dancing all alone, and somehow that would have been worse.

I still haven't mastered the art of taking a picture of myself
with someone else in the picture. If you look between us you
 can get something of an idea of the number of people spread
out all over this hill. Plus I had to post this picture because
Kelly looks almost maniacal in it. Serves him right for making
 me do the Chicken Dance.

If going to the laser show had been the only thing we did, the whole trip would still have been worth the drive. The finale featured a huge fireworks display and I knew I was sitting there, mouth agape, fascinated with the whole thing and looking like a big goober... but by this time I didn't care. After the fireworks, we just sat there on the blanket and let everyone else clear out. It's amazing the simple joy of just sitting outside on a warm night with a great friend to chat with.

More New Food And Beverage

BUT wait! There's more! (And at this point I'm thinking "Whaaaa? You know I turn into a pumpkin at midnight, right?")

From there we headed to a little strip of pubs right across from the courthouse in Decatur. For those of you who remember the hey-day of First Street in Richmond, it was extremely similar, right down to the parking strip in the middle between the courthouse and the pubs. The big differences were that the bars were a little nicer, and there was outdoor seating in front of all of them. First we went to The Brick Store pub, where Kelly decided I needed to try a little "hoppier" beer. Since I really enjoyed the one from Twain's I tried another pale ale, Belgian this time. I liked this one, but it didn't make me nearly as "hoppy" as the one at Twain's. I thought the one Kelly picked for himself was Yuck-o, but we don't develop new tastes all in one day, so I'm told. We nursed those beers pretty slowly.

When we finished, I was starving, so we walked over to Zucca Bar and Pizzeria (second from the left in the picture in the link) and ordered a couple slices to-go. Since the order took a long time, we sat listening to reggae, people-watching and making predictions/guesses about the relationships of the people around us. On beyond the front bar there were booths on either side of the room, and some girls got up and started dancing in the middle. I should have known better than to point this out to Kelly... we had to go join them.

I really needed all the stuff Kelly got me to do to get a little more outside myself. I've become stodgy. Way back, getting up and dancing to reggae in a bar with no dance floor would have been MY idea.

We finally arrived back at his place to eat our pizza (Which was the bomb-diggity pizza, just sayin'.) at around 2. Of course, new apartment, the only thing he had to drink with the pizza was beer. I re-read this and we sound like The Kelly & Kelly Lush's Show, so let me say we never actually reached "drunk" at any time during the day. However, the combination of "I'm never up this late and I almost never get a chance to drink beer" got the better of me and I crashed on the futon, probably mid-sentence.

So that was my day, Sunday. It was almost surreal. When the girls aren't home I spend the bulk of the time  by myself. I get so caught up in the things I NEED to do, "fun" (unless it was something for the girls) wasn't something I would plan for. "Fun" has been something that happened almost by accident on the way through the responsibilities of life.

Of all the new things Kelly made me try, to me the most fascinating was simply having "fun" be the goal all day long:

"Wow, that was cool, what's the NEXT fun thing we can go do?"

Adventures in Bathing

Kelly had an errand to run Monday morning, so I woke up hearing the water in the shower turning on, off again, on again, off again, on again. Huh?

Did I mention Kelly just moved to this place? Or that the gas hasn't been turned on yet, so there's no hot water?  I figured out why I'd been hearing the on again, off again... Get hair wet, turn the water off. Shampoo. Rinse. Turn the water off again. Soap up. Rinse. I was really glad he was out running errands when I got in the shower... being able to howl loudly almost made the cold bearable.


With that title, you were thinking that paragraph was going to be about something else, weren't you? Tsk tsk tsk. Aren't you ashamed of yourself!

Heading Home

He got back, we headed out for coffee and breakfast/lunch, then just hung out at his house for a while longer before I got on the road. Busy running around was great, but so was sitting around talking. I bet I thanked him a million times. I hope he knows how grateful I am, not just for the day, but to have friend like him to orchestrate such a day for me. (If he doesn't he can read it here, huh?) I finally headed out around 2:30.

Tried one more time to get a picture of the really cool
building. I still don't know what it was.

Leaving Atlanta

The trip back was long and uneventful and I spent a lot of it wishing I had taken more pictures.

But I did finally get a picture of a LaFayette sign!

The Welcome Home sign though? Not so much.

Whew!

No lesson here, just random nonsense from my world

My backyard's grass is too long. Way too long. Between school, internship and rain, I haven't had a chance to get the mower out. It's become a regular haven for rabbits. More on that later.

Mary Gina came down from Northern Kentucky to stay with me during week, going home on weekends, for most of March while she worked down here. Mary Gina is my other sister. Too long to explain.

Anyway, she's my counseling hero. She's been at it 20 years or longer. And she's frickin' brilliant. She's fun and she has all these stinkin' amazing ideas. Did I mention she's hilarious? And brilliant?

She flat schooled me playing pool once... but I don't hold it against her. (So you can see, it's sister-love, right?)

We had a blast while she was here. We made chocolate cake in a cup; staged a "Leprechaun Invasion" in the kitchen the day after St. Patty's that sent B.B. into orbit; she taught P.D. to use the word "nonsense" interchangeably with "stuff"...

"Hand me some more of that banana nonsense."

"Let's take a crack at this homework nonsense."

"K, if we're gonna do that we have to go to the store to pick up some nonsense."

We ate real food that I never get to cook because the girls' two votes beat my one; sat up late and watched Firefly nearly every night on Netflix (I love that show! Of course, she did too). I forgot how fun it was to have another adult in the house.

Of course, all was not perfect. My bed is king size, so it just made sense that she take half of my bed instead of sleeping on the couch. Someone in your bed when you've been alone in it for 3 years is an adjustment. That adjustment wouldn't have been so bad, but she fell in love with Sophie the Wonder Dog and because of all her begging, Sophie got to sleep in my bed instead of being sent to P.D.'s.

Grumble, grumble, but not much. She at least was good about putting Sophie out in the morning.

Then it happened. One morning Mary Gina (sans glasses) called up to me, "Kelly! I think Sophie had one of the girl's toys in the yard and she brought it back in all wet!"

I came to the top of the stairs to see MG standing there looking down at Sophie who was proudly carrying half (not all, HALF) of a REAL RABBIT in her mouth... looking very pleased with her little Jack Russell self.

I grew up on a farm. I was not shocked, just concerned about how to get her out the door so Mr. (or Ms.) Rabbit's carcass did not end up on my carpet. Then again, I went a teeny bit ballistic.

Me: Ahhh! Mary Gina, get her to go out! Get her out!

Mary Gina (blind sans glasses): What? The kids have tons of toys. I'm sure it's just wet from being outside!

Me (realizing MG can't see it and trying to keep from freaking her out): Just herd her toward the door!

MG (bending over): Hey Soph, let's go out, k?

Meanwhile, I start down the stairs. Sophie sees MG reaching for her prize and darts right past me up the stairs and straight under my bed, her favorite place to take toys, pencils, books, shoes, anything she can get her teeth on, to chew into oblivion.

The look on Mary Gina's face when I told her what Sophie really had in her mouth was priceless. We went on a mad search for a flashlight to see if we could get Sophie out, or at least fish her prize out if she dropped it. None of them were working. Mary Gina refused to go into my room. "What good will I be? I can't see!"

By the time I managed to get a lamp down beside the bed where Sophie normally hides, she was gone. I guess she ran back out when she heard me coming. The best I could tell, there was no rabbit under there, but we conducted a search of anywhere we thought she may hide one. We spent the next couple days sniffing around the house "in case" Mr. (or Ms.) Half Rabbit didn't get taken back outside. No smell, it's all good...

Until today. When P.D. called her in from outside this morning, Miss Sophie brought a new prize, a WHOLE baby rabbit, in with her. I thought P.D. would have a nervous breakdown until I got that thing thrown off the back porch outside.

When I came back from taking the girls to school, I noticed that Sophie had retrieved her new prize from the yard and was on the back porch chewing away... but over half of this prize was gone. When I looked out later there was just a tiny bit left.

I sent MG a text: BTW, figured out what happened to the half rabbit. Sophie ATE it! She brought in another one this morning!

MG: OMG that is SO GROSS!

Me: Tell me about it! P.D. was traumatized!

MG: So am I, sister, so am I!

Getting Out and About

Last night was just plain happy. I doubt I can do it justice.

As is the theme of my blog, a huge part of my healing process has been searching for who "Just Kelly" is. For a long time after his death, it felt like an act of desperation:

Is there anything left in here that's "just me", and therefore, any part of me that DOESN'T ache for his input? Deat's mark seemed to be on every single thing I did or even thought about.

Facebook has actually been a tool in this process in that it's allowed me to reconnect with people who knew me well before I was ever Deat's wife, people who remembered a previous version of "justkelly". For a while, I mistakenly imagined that perhaps I could just remember who I was before we married and just "be her" again. (BEEEP, wrong answer.)

Even on the few occasions I did "go out" with old friends initially, I found (much to my frustration) that I couldn't stop talking about Deat. It seemed impossible to find very much about myself that had not, in one way or another, been touched, honed, refined by his influence.

I decided "getting out socially" was just too much of a hassle. As much as I care about the friends I've been out to see, I just felt so awkward and uncomfortable with myself, it was hard to completely enjoy it. So, I haven't "gone out" anywhere without P.D. and B.B. for almost a year, often using them as an excuse to stay home.

Several months ago, I was reminiscing about my days at EKU, and wondered what happened to Richie. Richie was 6 years my senior, one of the guys in "The Gang" who taught me to play and love the game of pocket billiards... but he was more than that, too. (Okay, so I had a crush on him...) Despite the bravado in the Powell Building, he's one of the most soft-hearted people I know. I don't know if I ever actually came out and told him how I felt, but I know he knew. "Romantic near-misses" aside, we grew to be very close friends.

We got in touch with each other a few times after college... one of those times was soon after he'd gone through a very painful divorce... not long after that was when Deat and I got together, and we lost touch again.

So, got on Facebook, typed in his name, and bang, there he was. We corresponded on Facebook, and soon got on the phone and talked for hours.

He had been remarried for several years to Wendy. He sounded so much more comfortable with himself than he'd ever been: it was easy to tell that Wendy is a primary factor in that. He admitted that when he read that I was widowed, he couldn't help but shed tears for me, his friend. He told me that it reminded him of how important it was to tell the people who really influenced your life what they meant, so he wanted to tell me.

He also said the tears also came from trying to imagine what I'd been through, how in the world he'd go on if he'd been in my shoes, if he'd lost Wendy. To me, that spoke volumes about their relationship, and I was so happy he'd found someone he loved so much. I just knew I'd love her too.

BUT, Richie is a talker. He told me that Wendy knew all about who I was, well before we got back in touch... all of it. Ugh. Of course, I responded that her feelings came first. The last thing I wanted to do was create friction in his marriage, and I knew I would be uncomfortable if I were in her shoes. But he said he'd also already told her that we'd gotten back in touch, and she knew he was planning to call me, so not to worry.

A few days later, I saw Richie "on" Facebook and IMed, but it turned out it was actually Wendy putting up some pictures on his page (Wow, this is awkward) but we ended up in IM conversation. She was gracious and I could already tell she had a great sense of humor. We had a great conversation, "friended" each other, and started chatting.

We had a direct conversation where she admitted that she suddenly felt stupid for having been nervous about me. I told her not to feel stupid, to me, it just meant that she knew she had something of value and her first instinct was to protect it! I told her I completely respected her marriage and would never do anything to jeopardize it. Heck, she's the best thing that ever happened to Richie, the last thing I want to do was mess that up!

From there, Wendy and I became IM buddies, and until I went back to work, chatted nearly every day. Most of the time, our conversations have very little to do with Richie at all. She's totally amazing. How many women would have been willing to give me a chance? Not many, but she did. I got to keep my dear friend, and add a new one. (Oh, and she's also a reader, Hi Wendy!)

So, anyway, she and Richie decided that I needed to start getting out more, and asked me to come to their town so we could all go out and let Wendy and I finally meet face-to-face. Anytime Richie and I talked, he'd harass me about how he needed a partner to play pool at a restaurant/pub where he and Wendy are regulars.

I still love to play, but I'd only played a couple times in the last two years. I really didn't want to embarrass myself, especially since Richie sounded so convinced that I was a better player than I am. We made plans for one weekend, but they fell through. (Partly from a mis-communication, partly from my apprehension.)

(Man, I prefaced the dog-doo out of this entry, didn't I?)

This past Thursday I happened to see Wendy online and was telling her about how I was going to miss the girls since they were going to my parents' for the weekend, and Wendy jumped on it. "So, you're free Saturday night, huh?" (Oooops!) Okay, no ducking, time to get out again. I was nervous at first, but then, in the course of a lecture Saturday our professor mentioned that worrying was wasted energy.

Okay Kel, so stop worrying, find your pool stick and just go!

I arrived at the restaurant, was there for 5 minutes and felt completely at ease. Wendy is just as awesome in person. At dinner, she or I would say something and the other one would chime, "Me too!"

After dinner, we headed out to the pub they'd been telling me about. Wendy and I settled in at the bar and started playing some silly computer game, but it was fun. We "people watched" and laughed about some of the antics of some of the uh," less-than-sober" patrons.

Brief bar-table billiard etiquette lesson for those who don't know:

The winner keeps the table. On most tables that take quarters, the rule of thumb is that if you want to play, you place your quarters on the table and wait your turn to try to beat the winner. If you win, you play the next one waiting.

Richie put his quarters up, followed by a friend of his. His friend left, so when Richie won, I was next in line to play. After that game, we asked the next ones in line if they'd play partners against us.

We started playing a little after nine, and kept the table until just before last call about 12:30. I shot so much better than I imagined I still could. (I'm sure Richie and Wendy's confidence helped!) We laughed and talked and just had a great time.

Then opponents and by-standers started complimenting my game. Geez, I had forgotten how good that felt!

Funny moment: I stepped out for a quick smoke-break and ran into a pair of guys that Richie and I had just beaten. One of them stopped me:

"Man, you are really good!"

(smile) "No honey, you just think I'm good because you aren't used to seeing a female play well at all."

"Well, you're 10 times better than me, and your partner, he's 100 times better. I want so bad to play like he does, but I just can't."

"Well, here's a little perspective. You're how old, 22 maybe?"

"Twenty-one"

"Well, there ya go. My partner in there, he started teaching me how to shoot the same year you were born!"

He seemed to feel better after that.

It was just a simple, comfortable, happy night, on so many levels, for so many reasons.

• Had a night that was just "for me." and knew Ev and Ab were in good hands so I could relax.
• Finally got to "cement" my new friendship with Wendy.
• I saw first-hand what a great marriage God blessed my dear friend Richie with, and it made me so happy for him.
• It was so neat to see Richie be "the top dog". To use an old "Gang" expression, he shot like "God on the pool table."
• Spent time doing something that I loved, and had loved well before I ever met Deat. On a VERY rare occasion, Deat would come watch me play, but it still wasn't his interest. Pool was one tiny aspect of me that was, and still is, truly, "just me."
• While I did mention Deat from time-to-time, it was just a comfortable part of conversation, it didn't feel awkward, or even "compulsive" as it used to.

Thanks, guys, I so needed that!

After Deat's death, it took a long time to accept that the best part of my marriage was that nearly every single part of me was colored by my relationship with Deat. I had to instead learn to embrace that fact and incorporate it into this new life. Trying to run away from that simple truth wasn't making the pain lessen anyway, much as I tried to "will" the hurt away.

So, okay, most of who I am is still wrapped up in Deat and his influence, but not all. Saturday night I saw a lot of the old Kelly: just older, wiser, and much more comfortable in MY own skin.

Hmm, maybe I should have named my blog "justkellyhere 2.0"

Clarification:

I had a friend tell me my blog confused him a bit, so to clarify... the biological dads who walk away I am referring to in my "resentment rant" are also known as "deadbeat dads." I know several men that I think highly of who, while not married to their childrens' mothers, still do their best to be excellent dads. Them I don't resent.

It's these men who father children and then cease participating in their childrens' lives and fail to contribute financially that make me sick. If I ran into one on "One of Those Nights" (see earlier blog) I'd most likely break my pool cue over his head, and beat him unconscious.

Better Wayne?

(Smoothing shirt, climbing down off soapbox)