Vegas Lessons

This isn't going to be the typical trip report. Some things that happen in Vegas really should remain in Vegas and other things should remain in the heart as memories to retrieve when you get lonely and need a reminder of the awesome people in your life. Speaking of awesome people, I need to send out a special thanks to Katitude and Iggy who were there for me during a low moment. I got through because of your kindness and will not forget it.

During that low moment I was reminded that having expectations of other people is unfair and often brings about disappointment. The only person I should have expectations of is myself.

Everything else about the trip was awesome. I have never laughed so much and felt as loved as I did throughout the weekend. Poker bloggers are a special breed, even if none of us blog about poker all that much anymore, and I am so glad I took a leap outside of my comfort zone to meet you all way-back-when, at the first summer gathering. Hopefully I won't have to wait a year to see you all again and if any of you make it to Maine (I'm looking at you Iggy), look me up! Take care and thank you all for a great time.

Would You Like Some Cheese With That?

I really can't wait to leave for Las Vegas early on Thursday morning. I am praying to every god, goddess, the universe and anything else that may be listening, and asking for perfect weather for my flights. I have to stop in New York and Memphis before I get to my paradise and I don't want to be delayed one moment more than is necessary.

Honestly though, it isn't Vegas I care about. It could be New York, Chicago, or some little town somewhere and I wouldn't care as long as my friends are there. When I made the decision to stay in Maine permanently I knew I was giving up a lot and, while I have gained much since making the decision, one thing I don't have here are friends. There are people I went to high school with, people who go to my grandmother's church, and tons of family, but no one I can just go and hang out with on any regular basis. This has left me very lonely, with very little motivation to leave the house, especially as winter comes storming in.

That is enough whining for now. I may just have to bring a few of you back to Maine with me. Who likes to shovel?

Where is My Happy Ending?

I just saw a status update on Facebook that caused my heart to fall into my stomach. Of course it's one of those updates that doesn't give all the details, just a hint of something that may, or may not, mean what I think it does. I can't bitch too much because I've been guilty of posting those same types of updates. I usually think it's kind of cute, I know something and my "friends" don't, but being on the other side of it truly sucks. If the update means what I think it means, then someone else is getting my happy ending and, as much as I want to be happy for both parties involved, there is also a part of me that hopes I am wrong. This is one time when I would have no problem making an ass of myself.

I realize that the above paragraph may not make a lot of sense since I didn't come right out and quote the Facebook update. I'll just say that Prince Charming may have found his Cinderella, and it ain't me. Guess it's back to kissing frogs, though they are a lot harder to come by in this neck of the woods. Maybe I should be kissing Moose instead?

No Ordinary Day

This post was originally going to be a much longer, moment by moment account of what I was doing on the morning of 9/11. Instead I am going with the short version.

• Woke up to the voice of a radio DJ saying that a plane had "accidently" crashed in the World Trade Center.
• Turned on the TV in time to see the second plane crash, live.
• Went to the airport to get on my flight from San Jose to Baltimore, though I had no intention of actually flying after what I had just witnessed on TV.
• Explained to the people around me in the check-in line, why all flights were suddenly being grounded. Apparently no one had seen or heard a news report.
• Got to ticket counter just as the airport was officially closed.
• Waited on curb for dad to pick me up and take me back home.
• Stopped for breakfast at Carl's Jr. and watched events unfold on the TV in the upper corner.
• Got home. Dad went to work. Dad came back home. We watched the buildings fall.
• I was numb for the rest of the day.

Second

When my mom called early this morning, I knew something was wrong. I answered the phone and she told me that Ned had died. It took a couple of seconds for my half asleep brain to process then I asked if we are supposed to do something. Ned was my mom's second husband and neither of us had seen him in over 10 years. Neither of us knew the etiquette for this situation?

The summer before my freshman year of high school, while visiting my dad in California, I met the woman who would later become my step-mother. Upon returning to Maine, I met the man who would later become step-father #1. I was also told that we were moving in with him and his son. Between all that and the depression that was already starting to take root, it was not a good time of my life. I eventually ended up living with my grandmother but I would visit my mom, Ned and "Cody" on the weekends. Ned and I developed a sort of friendship and Cody really felt like my younger pest of a brother. While certainly not perfect, we seemed to function well as a weekend family.

Of course things changed, divorce happened and I never saw or talked to Ned again. I also lost touch with Cody after he graduated from college. Mom married step-father #2 and life went on. I knew this day would come, and actually thought it would be sooner as he smoked like a chimney, but didn't know how I would react or what I would do. Since hearing the news I've left my condolences for Cody on an online guestbook and shared a bit with all of you. I think I'm good, I've done what I need to do. Rest in peace.

The Story Begins

In the back of my mind I always knew that, one day, I would return to Maine to take care of my aging grandmother. At the same time, I hoped that somehow that day would never arrive. It has nothing to do with my grandmother; I love her very much and owe her a lot. But, for me, Maine will always represent the darkest days of my life, when my depression first began and thoughts of suicide were a daily, if not hourly, occurrence. I know it’s not rational to blame an entire state for my out of whack brain chemistry, but since when is mental illness rational?

So, here I am, 5 months into my “temporary” relocation faced with the reality that it is not so temporary. I start a job in a couple of days and have started a mental list of the things I need sent from California in order to endure the cold, snowy, Maine winter that is approaching faster than I care to think about. Family friends ask me every day if I am staying “for good”, and I am slowly replacing my usual reply of “indefinitely” with a resigned “yes”. I am here to stay as long as my grandmother needs me and, since she isn’t getting any younger, she is probably going to need me for the rest of her life.

And so begins my new life; the life of a native Mainer, who calls California home, yet has returned to her native land, despite her fears, to do right by her grandmother. Sounds like the synopsis of a Hallmark movie, doesn't it? Let's hope that it takes fewer tears to reach the happy ending.