Reindeer Poop

As I write this, it's 12:45 am and I've just submitted my last paper for my ethics class, the one that was due at 11 pm. I've written 3 papers for this class, the most recent 7 pages long, not including the abstract and " page + 1/4" of references.

Writing papers for Dr. Derenzo has been a challenge: she IS the self-described "Accountablity Police". I really thought I'd started early enough to meet the deadline. However, to be truthful, despite putting in approximately 15 hours on this piece, I still could have managed to turn it in on time.

I could have turned in a sloppily edited paper on time. Nah, if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right. If I get dropped 1/2 grade for lateness, so be it. I know I turned in the best paper I could write.

There's also another way I could have made it by the deadline. I could have skipped the talent show at The Gusto Theatre tonight. I made a conscious decision to walk away from my paper for a couple hours... the approximate time it took me to finish my edts.

I made that choice for a variety of reasons. The first of those was simple: my girls have had to walk around here on eggshells, not to mention spend time away from home as I've struggled to write papers and attend this class. We don't subscribe to cable, so while I've been here they couldn't even entertain themselves on my laptop (I've been using it) or the family computer (it sits in my bedroom and my workstation for writing and studying happens to be my bed). They deserved to have Momma take them someplace fun.

My second reason was to show support for my friend, Henry Dowell, the impetus behind everything that happens at the theatre. I couldn't begin to thank him for all he's done for my girls, especially P.D., in taking the time to teach them about drama over the past year and a half. Plus, in the course of dozens of rehearsals and working past one fairly bad spat (my bad, Henry) he and Kelsey Shea, his right-hand woman, have become very good friends to me. Supporting each other, that's just what friends do.

My third and not the least reason, was to show support to my "theatre babies". Participating in productions at the Gusto has not only added to the lives of my children, but also to me in giving me the opportunity to meet and learn about so many really awesome teenagers and kids. I've watched them learn and grow with every show, and couldn't help but fall in love with them. I am constantly rewarded for taking an interest in and loving these kids, they never fail to let me know they love me back.

I delighted in every performance tonight, just out of sheer affection for the kids on stage. Several of the segments featured the "Gusto Dancers" performing one of the many dances they've used in shows over the past year and 1/2. I was tickled when they called P.D. to the stage to perform with them. I laughed when, as they prepared for their final dance of the night, to Funkytown, they called Benny (another parent) to join in.

Then, the chanting started from the stage, "Kel-ly, Kel-ly, Kel-ly..." Who was I to tell them no? I've seen them do the Funkytown dance so many times I actually surprised myself by knowing most of the moves... when I wasn't running into Heather, another Gusto parent. And I can't tell you how much fun it was or how great it felt that they wanted me to join in.

So, my paper was late. I'm accountable, I'll take any penalties.

It was SO WORTH IT!!!!!

Guest Blog Spot: The REAL spirit of Christmas.

My friend, Mike, asked for a spot on my blog. I'm sure Mike believes that it's more well-read than it is.

Mike's sister has been my best friend since I remember having friends, and I've known him (and his tenacity) since we were itty-bitty kids. (I watched him chase a rooster than was almost as big as he was with a tobacco stick.) He's family, I am required to oblige.

Hopefully, if you don't live in Lexington area, this may inspire you to offer help where ever you live. I cede the floor to Mike:

Hey everyone! Christmas is here and I would like to take the opportunity to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas! For some people this holiday season will be especially hard due to job loss/financial hardship, difficult family issues or worse...the loss of a loved one. It may not mean much at the moment, but you are in my prayers and the prayers of many others.

Christmas is a magical time. Time for hope, optimism, love and security. For a lot of us, Christmas is a beautiful time. Time to spend with family and loved ones. However, for many families, all that is wanted and needed is for a hot meal to share and maybe a gift or two for their precious children. The spirit of Christmas lives in the heart of children and we have an opportunity to keep that spirit alive. There are many charitable organizations in need for food, clothes and toys for these families and I ask that everyone take the time and think about what they can donate. Clothes, toys, food, money? It doesn't matter. Everything counts and is desperately needed!

For those in the Lexington area, if you do not know where to go to donate, please allow me to point you to Quest Community Church at 410 Sporting Court next to Champs and Meijer off Reynolds Rd. For others, I am sure any church will be willing to accept your donations or at least point you to where your gift is needed.

http://www.questcommunity.com/

http://www.questcommunity.com/being%20christmas%20year%20end%20letter.pdf

Quest has teamed up with God's Food Pantry and other kitchens for feeding the poor. According to the latest reports, these places are short 35000 pounds of food . Also, Quest is teaming up with Vineyard Church and the Catholic Action Center for toy donations so that some families in need can have something for their kids to open this year. The goal is to supply for 15000 families! Together and through God's great plan, we can answer their prayers.

For those of us who are able, it is the time of year to give generously and see those generous gifts be used in ways that God has planned. You don't have to believe in God or be a Christian to understand that there are people that need our help. I simply request that if you can spare some food, clothes, toys or money please do not hesitate to offer assistance to those in need. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16). The key word there is GAVE. He gave this gift to us not to sit under the tree unopened but to be opened, received and shared with everyone. So I ask that if you can, please donate what ever you can to what ever charity you choose.

God bless you all and have a very Merry Christmas!

Update: 12/20/10: From the Quest page:

Quest Community Church - YOU DID IT! U became Christmas for 1000s by giving 35707 lbs of food & filling an entire semi (+4 over) w/toys. Awesome!

Yep 35k pounds of food and a full semi trailer full of toys. Christmas is going to be great for a lot of families in need. Thanks to all who donated!

Cha-ching!

What? A new post?

Well, yeah.

1. The semester ended yesterday.

2. Today was a snow day, so we put the tree up!

I will tell you, last year's tree o' my discontent was introduced to the garbage guys. I only wish I could say shortly after Christmas.

I almost kept it. After the debacle that was last year's lighting, I ordered a Lightkeeper Pro from E-bay. John and Sabrina brought me an endless supply of light spares. John and I spent hours (and hours, and hours) trying to get it to re-light. We replaced approximately 50 lights. We shot (and shot and shot) those strings with the Lightkeeper. We managed to get half the light-strings going again... As I took it down, I kept thinking it seemed a shame waste all that hard work, when John and I could anticipate another merry exercise in frustration and futility the following year...

After New Year's, the neatly-packed-up box waited on on the back porch for the snow to clear so I could carry it to the storage building out back. Then it waited for the mud to dry up. Then it waited for me to get tired of tripping over it and find some divine inspiration to pick up and carry the hated object the 50-or-so steps to the building.

Meanwhile, Sophie the Wonder Dog discovered that chewing on cardboard was her new favorite past-time. Then she discovered that eating Christmas lights made her sick. (Yes, she chewed enough away to crawl in.) So, procrastination led me to dispose of the hated object. (Procrastination as a positive? YES!!!!! Cha-ching!)

The girls and I made fun of the tree displays that were already up in the stores before Halloween. Somehow, I had it in my head that I was the only one who might need a tree this year, so I waited until about a week and a half ago to take the girls shopping for one.

We carefully surveyed our findings. We debated the merits of real trees (as much as a 9- and 5-year old can contribute to said debate). We decided without the Christmas-y smell, they weren't worth the trouble, so we went from tree-to-tree in the Wal-Mart real-tree collection sniffing. (None of the Wal-Mart trees had any aroma worth mentioning.)

We went to Lowe's and K-mart, admiring the Christmas yard decorations... somehow I think God frowns on light-up pigs dressed up as angels, but who am I to judge?

We decided on one as close as we could get to our old tree, turns and all. We chose the 7 1/2 foot "Madison w/colored lights" from K-mart (apparently, Martha Stewart no longer has a Christmas tree line in the L-town K-mart). As is the lot of procrastinators, I found one on display but none in stock. Oh well, the truck was due the next day, (Wednesday) maybe there'd be one on it. I went the next day, no truck.

Annnnnd... speaking of no truck, I had to take my truck (which had been immobile for a month) and get it fixed before I could buy the tree so I could get the tree home... I digress. Oh well...

When we finally got back to K-mart on Saturday, not only were there no Madisons in stock, the display was gone too. Much to P.D.'s disappointment, the only one even close was only 6 feet tall, and it didn't turn either. At least the box was much easier to carry. (Procrastination as a positive? YES!!!!! Cha-ching!)

This year I wore long sleeves, so only my wrists look like I've been working in hay. Although this year's tree bragged of 1563 tips (as opposed to the 1506 on the Martha tree), I must say, it seemed much easier. Since this one was so comparatively small, I didn't need the turn function, it turned in the base anyway.

As I worked, I kept hearing much whispering from the kitchen. then the microwave running, so I stopped shaping for a bit. When I stopped, they noticed I wasn't making any noise and hollered "Momma! Don't come in here! It's a surprise!" When they allowed me in, they had prepared lunch for me: a plate with their version of a grilled cheese (toast the bread, then put on the cheese and melt it in the microwave), a pre-sliced and cored apple, cheese puffs, and almost hot hot chocolate. I must say, it was the best lunch I've had in some time. How such sweet babies came from my sarcastic line is beyond me.

With the smaller dimensions, we decided only to hang the ornaments that actually meant something to us. It's made a much homier, more aesthetically pleasing tree. I couldn't be more pleased with how this one has turned out.

Finally, the "surveying angel", because of her large size, seems to overpower our new tree, so she's now sitting on a side table for mere decoration... Um, in the same spot she's been sitting since she came off last year's tree. (Procrastination as a positive? YES!!!!! Cha-ching!)

ME-OW

I love it when opportunity presents a moment to simply appreciate the things we already have. Others may have so-called "better", but finding those little perks can certainly do much to keep jealousy at bay.

Deat used to name all our vehicles. His convertible Mustang, was, of course, Sally. My little Ram 50 from when we first married was Rachel. His Sebring was Fritz. My GMC Sonoma was Gertie Mac.

My current truck is a 2001 Dakota, she had just 4,000 miles on her when we brought her home. We needed the Dakota because at the time, it was the only small extended-cab truck that featured a bench for a car-seat rather than the traditional jump-seats. My old job kept me on the road constantly, so in keeping with our previous logic, he chose one with a 4-cylinder motor for economy, plus it met my preference for a standard transmission. We test drove it a few miles, it seemed perfect for our needs.

That said, let me add: there's a reason Dodge stopped making 4-cylinder Dakotas in 2001. The body is too big for the motor. "Daisy" has no power at all. Living on the edge of Appalachia, Home of Steep-Hills-Everywhere, this doesn't make for a pleasant driving experience. Going north on the interstate, in several places I have to down-shift to keep her from dropping down to 40 miles per hour.

I will say, in this manner she has probably protected me from my lead foot on more than one occasion. And, she's managed to take me over 160,000 miles (Deat couldn't drive a standard, so I know it was me). Deat picked her out, and made every single payment as a present for me. Money can't buy her.

The current car is a 1997 Buick Riviera that has had the same last name on the title since she first came off the lot. She belonged to my in-laws, and we bought her from them a few years ago when my mother-in-law decided to upgrade. Deat loved new cars, but since she had all the bells and whistles, she was satisfactory to him. She also embodied a nice typical Buick feature, the simple smoothness of the ride. He never loved her enough to name her, however. She's given me very little trouble, despite the 131,000 miles showing on her odometer.

When I embarked on attending school, I knew times would be lean, but I decided that was okay; I didn't have any debt outside my mortgage, and while they aren't the newest, I had two completely-paid-for vehicles to drive. I figured if one broke down, I'd have the other one to use until I could get repairs. So what if the newer of the two was nine years old?

A few weeks ago, I spent quite a bit of time riding with my sister in the new Tundra she bought for her husband. I had no idea of all the technology available. It has blue-tooth installed to take your phone conversation right through the speakers. It has GPS. It has a jack for their I-pod so they can choose from hundreds of songs they want to listen to. I could go on and on. It's a beautiful truck.

Since then I've been the teeniest bit green over it. I looked at the vehicles in my driveway with a bit less pride, and perhaps the slightest bit of distaste. I started noticing that it seemed that everyone at church, every one of my peers at school had nicer and newer automobiles. I started to feel the tiniest bit inferior.

This morning, however, the Buick gave me that "second-to-savor" I needed while driving back from taking the girls to school.

Miss B.B.'s preschool is on the very south end of town, right off the old north-south route. This road, especially near the start and end of the school day, is as busy and hectic a road as any I've driven in Lexington. At this particular intersection, you might wait and wait and wait even to simply turn right. Oftentimes, especially in Daisy, I have to wait for the light to change to get out. It's not horrible, but it can be an annoying, lengthy wait because the "change" trigger usually does not engage unless there is another car across the intersection.

This morning, I arrived at the intersection just as my light turned red. Northbound traffic was really moving, but I saw a small break coming up. The Riviera has another wonderful feature: a Supercharger. I turned, stepped down on her and she took off like a shot, 10-20-30-40-50. She seamlessly merged in, never even slowing the vehicle behind me. I grinned at the small adrenaline rush I had when her motor awakened from her typical almost inaudible purr to her quietly powerful roar.

I think I'll call her "Kitty."

To Tony

Tonight I received some unhappy news. A dear friend (Tony) has been battling cancer for some time and has kept me and other friends updated through emails (similar to the "Deat Updates" I did when Deat was ill.) Tonight, he sent one telling us that he's essentially lost the battle, that the doctor told him there's nothing left to do. Tony guesses that he may have a few months left.

He asked a favor: to write or email a memory of him or a time he's shared with each of us that he can compile in a book for his family. I love this idea, as some of you know I've asked Deat's friends to do the same on his memorial website as a gift to my girls. I love that Tony is putting this together himself; but that's Tony... he's putting together something that will comfort his family long after he's gone. I'd tell you more about how great he is, but hopefully my contribution will do that for me.

So, this is what I wrote.

You never know how much the little things you do bless someone, and so often we forget to tell people how much something that seems like a "little thing" means to us. I am humbled and honored to have that opportunity.

Almost 10 years ago, my husband was unhappy in his job, and was offered a chance come back to the job he had loved at the radio station here in L-town, Kentucky... 100 miles from my family, my friends, and everything that was familiar to me. Two days after we had decided to move, we learned I was expecting our first baby (P.D.). I was intimidated at the idea, but as I told Jerry (Deat) , "You're miserable, you're fixing to make ME miserable, you'd probably make the baby miserable... Let's go!"

In the first several months after our move, I was spending the weekdays in central Kentucky doing my old job, coming back to L-town on the weekends. I had been away to college, but this was different, this was GOING to be my HOME but I didn't really have much in the way of opportunities to get used to it.

When someone said to me, "Oh, you live in L-town, do you know so and so?"

I replied, "Well, if they're not Catholic or a public official, I doubt I've laid eyes on them!"

A better answer would have been, "Well, if they don't work at the radio station or they aren't Tony Cambron, no."

Tony was St. William's, and really L-town itself's ambassador to me. St. William's was a very welcoming community, but Tony really stood out. He introduced himself the very first time we attended and made a point to speak to us every single time he saw us, usually with a joke or funny story, and always with that great welcoming smile. Tony was the guy who really made me feel that this town "could" become my home.

He always asked how I was coming along, and when P.D. was born, he was the first to carry her off and show her to the rest of the church. Of course I had to have "P.D.'s buddy" at her first birthday! Thank you for that, Tony.

My other big thank you's are for the comfort he brought me during the hardest period of my life. These updates seem so familiar to me, I sent them out in '07 and '08 when my husband was battling Lupus and kidney failure. Tony sent me the best responses, and for those I am grateful. When Deat was in the hospital here in L-town, Tony came to see him. When I came in later, Deat mentioned Tony's visit and laughed as he shared their conversation with me. I don't remember what they talked about... but at a time when Deat's smiles were fewer and farther between, it was a million-dollar conversation to me.

Losing Deat was, and is, by far, the most difficult thing I've endured... but Tony was a bright spot in that, too. The night of Deat's visitation, we invited people to get up and tell their favorite story about Deat. I loved hearing them all, but Tony's was my favorite. He told of watching us come into church and how, eventually one of girls would "act up" and demonstrated how Deat would end up collecting all the "baby stuff" up and carrying her out...

then he did Deat's walk.

I pointed and howled with laughter, "THAT'S EXACTLY IT!!!! I used to tell Deat all the time, 'honey, if ducks had long legs that's exactly how they'd walk!'" I can't describe how, in the midst of so much sorrow, how much that laugh meant to me. It wasn't the act of someone making fun, it was the act of someone who cared enough to know; of someone who loved and respected my husband.

Tony also took the time to write a beautiful tribute on Deat's memorial site, a wonderful gift to me and to my girls, and one I treasure. I've read it well over 100 times, and it always brings comfort.

Tony Cambron, you're about as fine a man as I've ever known... and I thank God for putting you in the places He has in my life. I also thank YOU for being who you are: God knew you'd bless me, and you have, again and again. I am especially grateful to God and to you for what you sent to me tonight, for this opportunity to TELL you.

We've been so lucky to have you, Tony. I know this journey is frightening, and I wish I knew just the exact right thing to tell you to make it easier, but I'm not sure I do. So, I'll remind you of something you said in your gift to me... I'm sure Deat will be right there with St. Peter, ready to strike up a conversation to make you feel at home.

We love you, Tony.

Kelly, P.D. and B.B.

Extra Credit

I'm here tonight seeking extra credit. My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to chose a theory that interests me and spend the next 2 weeks incorporating the core concepts of that theory in my everyday life and interactions, and to journal about that nightly.

The good news is, I've decided to kill two birds with one proverbial stone: work toward some extra credit and alleviate my guilt about not providing T.L. and Delmer something to comment on. The bad news is you'll probably be reading more about Adlerian Theory than you ever hoped to. I find everything about the material I'm learning fascinating, but you may not. I asked Dr. Parsons about injecting humor on a project in another of his classes and was told no, so I'm not sure how I'll approach this assignment.

If it becomes too dry, at least my readers will have a sound substitute for Ambien!

Giggling

Just passing along an entertaining website: www.ticklenotes.com. It's okay in the latest entries, but I've been reading the stuff from '07 and giggling my head off.

Mostly, it's stuff he's overheard... with a couple other random entries. Just sharing!

Random School and Counseling

Yeah, yeah, I know, it's been awhile. I'm sorry!

School... uh, wow. So many things run through my head about it...

1. I have this fear I'll have to quit blogging when I become a counselor. I mean, I don't think you can find this blog just by Googling my name, but what if a client DID find it somehow? Way too much self-disclosure here.

I like to think I'm pretty transparent in my friendships, so I don't mind my friends' reading it. Strangers? Well they don't know me so who cares if they judge? But client relationships are very different animals. Guess when the time comes to make the decision I'll be checking the ACA Code of Ethics.

2. My first semester was very emotional for me, I wanted so badly to do everything RIGHT. I wanted so badly to be respected my peers in my classes... I didn't handle the pressure well and lost control of my emotions in more than one class.

I did my paper for Foundations of Counseling about "Stress in Master's Level Counseling Students" (ha ha!) but the topic was perfect for me to do... I learned a great deal, most importantly being that some of my issues, the areas where I felt particularly anxious, were already recognized stress factors for counseling students. In the course of writing the paper, I came to the conclusion that if you're a stressed-out master's level student, at least in a counseling program you're dealing with a staff that is trained in recognizing your issues and is willing to help you sort them out.

Also, I learned (the hard way) that an A- isn't worth 4 points, it's only worth 3.7 on the Lindsey Wilson grading scale.

SO, the pressure is off! If my peers think I'm a basket case, so what. Damage done, can't fix it... and my profs have shown an interest in helping me succeed. Besides, my 4.0 is already blown, no more pressure there either... Whoo hooo!

3. That said, (and with aforementioned pressure off) I LOVE learning this stuff. My classes have been and are absolutely fascinating to me.

Tonight was the first meeting of Systemic Family Therapy. I was nervous because the image I had in my head of this prof (from students who have already had him) was that he was a real hard-a**... so I was nervous, but I really liked him. He seemed pretty forthright, so I don't imagine I'll have to guess about where I stand. Besides, I really, really enjoyed the lecture he gave tonight. I feel good about the class.

4. Which leads me to one other thing I worry about a bit. My friends know, I live by the philosophy "If you 'think' something nice about someone, you should just 'say' it"... I'm torn by that in dealing with my profs because I don't want to come off as a brown-noser.

I'll admit, I have a pretty bad case of hero worship for the profs I've had so far. I think much of what we learn in class is simply "how to be a better person" for lack of a better way to describe it. Since these people are TEACHING these things, they've already internalized them.

Recognizing this huge admiration thing I have going, I worry about where to "draw the line" in my dealings with them. I guess I'll keep learning as I go...

Oh, and I promise I'll try to blog more often...

WOO HOO!!!!

Checked my unofficial transcript to see how I did in my first class

I got an A! I got an A! (repeat 100 times)

GRIN!

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"