Then we inevitably get sucked into a Star Trek: TNG episode when I flip on the tv, because it is “The Game” and we are geeks. Deanna explains to Riker her ritual for eating chocolate as she suggestively swirls fudge around the ridiculous glass contraption her tiny dessert has been served in, and we are struck with how perfect the weather is to go get ice cream and just sit outside with it. To Brusters we go, and my perfect pistachio/hot fudge sundae ensues, causing me to giggle and swirl fudge suggestively around the rim of my tiny paper cup, lamenting my need for the ridiculous Star Trek ice cream serving dish, which James seconds since his tiny paper cup did nothing to preserve what is now his container of liquid lime sherbert. We’re fairly caught up in our own ridiculousness and conversation, where we had decided to head back over for the Saturday night laser show, when a perfectly sweet young couple sit down next to us and strike up a conversation. James’ toe shoes are always a good conversation starter, but this surprisingly went beyond that — to the point when we walked away we almost felt like we should have invited them to go with us — if they hadn’t had the baby in the stroller. Occasionally you can just sit out on a bench and have a nice conversation with people in the lovely fall evening air.

Then, back to Stone Mountain — decent parking spot, picnic blanket, camera, tri-pod, decent spot on the lawn, get all set up and… oh hey is that lightning? Smartphones light the night as radar is checked, and things are repacked quickly as we decide that particular crowd of people with their coolers, baby-strollers, fussy children, etc., would be even less fun when the sky dropped on them in a few minutes, and we’d rather not spend the rest of our lives being soaking wet fighting our way to the car or out of here with the masses. A brisk walk back to the car ensued, accompanied by a few other smartphone-radar wielding folks who fell into step, and we were out of there and back home just in time for the lightshow. We turned off all the houselights and opened the front door to enjoy the beautiful but brief storm, and I’m sure the cats wondered at our sanity.

Meanwhile we laze around on the front carpet, blissfully recalling the exertions of the day, and our joy at dodging the downpour in the crowd bullet at the last second, planning for things to do on Sunday — what a joy it is to have a weekend in town. Here, as the lightning is dancing across the sky, is where the house phone rings — and I  at first think it must be Joyce calling because her spidey-sense knows there’s a tornado around us and she knows we’re just the kind of people who forget to take cover from such things because we’re having so much fun enjoying the rain fall sideways, but it is Kit and Bob, inviting us over to play at their house because after 8 hours of drinking at Taco Mac in front of various sports things on screens, they decided to go home — and we know we’re going to go because it is just that kind of day full of wonderful unexpected opportunities to enjoy each other and friends and life.

And I am so glad we went, because otherwise we would never have had the James finished three entire bottles of vodka in one evening story — which sounds more scandelous if you don’t know they were airline bottles. Or we wouldn’t have been gifted with the insight that one of my best features is that no matter what clothes I’m wearing, my boobs are always located in the expected place on my body — as opposed I must assume to some other of Kit’s friends, whose boobs tend to roam at random around their bodies, perhaps affected by gravitational pull or some kind of wind shear. Or that Nina Simone — though she sounds like a man — is so awesome she can do no wrong, even though sometimes Kit hears a song she thinks is crap is able to decide it’s not actually crap once she is informed it is Nina Simone, who is so awesome she can do no wrong, and why do you think she sounds like a man?

It was also fun that we at last got the full story of Mercedes and Brad’s Awesome Mississippi Adventure, complete with the Brad version of southern accents, which is quite entertaining. And not last or least –because the ability to retain all such Saturday-night-drunk wisdom has escaped me when I didn’t rush home and write this all down at 4am — if we hadn’t gone, we might never have known that our ability to tell when people are “just fooling” with us becomes impaired as those people drink more, and thus they must — to avoid any misunderstanding — begin to notify us — before, during, or after the “just fooling” fact that they are in fact, “just fooling”.

Also, I’d like to note that my “fuel or rest” now response is getting worse — as I find myself less able to stay awake and non-cranky passed the point where my body decides we’re either going to have to eat again or just go to bed. Last night, I managed about two hours of continued interaction — after nibbling 2 almonds that tasted like walnut, 1 cashew that tasted like walnut, and finally just one of the walnuts that had tainted the entire mixed nut container. But really after finishing three entire bottles of vodka I wasn’t about to let JamesT drive us home, even though my massively sleepy yet completely sober ass was probably just as impaired, so it was a sea salt and cracked pepper cashew that saved our life last night — or rather, a handfull of the goodies still tucked in my car from a previous road trip. And thus we are alive today to tell the tales and pass on the widsom of the pint.

I think I totally scored on cooking duty, with sandwich stuff, salad stuff and a potato casserole made beforehand as my responsibilities. Felt like such a slacker, we volunteered to make a Saturday morning grocery run for some beverage refills. The beer might have lasted longer if people hadn’t kept dropping their open bottles into the hot tub — apparently when you’re all steamy and sitting in bubbles (and it’s not your first adult beverage) glasses and bottles are difficult to grip.

It was a bit cooler in Blue Ridge, but still the south, so still miserably humid and in the 90s. A/C in the cabin was rocking, and after dark, the hot tub was more than bearable. Friday night we rocked out the hot tub and ran through the beverage supplies so well that it could not be repeated on Saturday. We made a mild attempt, but Saturday night was made for booze and bad pool… and celebrating engagements. The Sniper-Couple can tell the story best, but the rest of us were just happy to have been there for there for the news.

He’d been battling so much sickness you’d think it would have become an obvious part of him. Fibromyalgia, COPD, but he was still just as light and funny to talk to as ever. Unpredictable, crazy. He, too, seemed the same person after so many years.

I’ve been looking through his photo albums tonight on MySpace, and he did look truly happy in the lovely ceremony to marry Missy. I’ve been reading through his livejournal entries, and it just breaks my heart at how many posts proclaim his fitness after being rushed to the hospital for some urgency. Over and over he proclaims that the next chapter of his life is only beginning. I fear he is about to truly begin the next chapter, and I find myself more at ease sitting at a computer and winding through memories than making the journey to actually see his unconscious body on the respirator in the ICU. Though we spent more than 10 years being friends and for a brief moment roomies, another 10 years have passed since I moved away, and I did only manage to continue visiting Chattanooga for as long as he and Jim were roomies and in the old familiar townhome. When Jim moved on to Atlanta, Kelly went elsewhere and we never managed to meet face to face again.

So how, after so much time, can I intrude on his family and close friends, a complete stranger to most of them, and claim any right to be there in this intimate, personal time with him in the ICU. In 10 years he’d become a father and husband and given up smoking and drinking, and that was a man I didn’t know well enough.  Jimmy said when he phoned with the last update that if I had any last words to say to the man, that I’d better get there quick. There aren’t words that need to be said. Kelly knew as well as I know how time passes and that you can’t live a life of regrets, and that just because I hadn’t seen you in a blue moon, didn’t mean I stopped caring.

I want to sit here and write down a 100 goofy Kelly memories, which would be really easy especially when you factor in that I knew him in the days when we played roleplaying games for fun on a Saturday night and drank our way through Chattacon every year. Minotaurs in the stairwells, and what not. Honestly the memory that always pops out is always going to be the day he burst into the room shouting that he needed a machine to make it all real. Maybe most of those memories are best kept locked up afterall, since I’m sure all the late night profound discussions might seem a little less profound to the dauntain we’ve become while we weren’t paying attention.

This Hoover doesn't suck -- Kelly

So tonight I’ve spent time thinking joyous memories of my friend Kelly, who will likely never wake up. I didn’t know how else to spend the time. Now I’ve shared this with all of you. If there’s any power in “well wishing”, I hope he is getting the strong vibe tonight from everyone. One more memory, of a bored group of us wandering Chattacon and just beginning to wonder why we still came to such events, suddenly laughing and having a wonderful time moments after Kelly finally joined us. I remember Shea actually telling Kelly that his energy and joy was contagious and had helped us all have a better time. Since then I’ve met very few other folks who “brought the party” the way Kelly did, and I think the world would be a sadder place without him in it. If you’ve managed to read this, please send him your love tonight.

This eshu compass icon is for you, man, as you follow wherever your path may lead you. And now I’ll share this great photo of Kelly and the caption he gave it.

I have an appointment Wednesday at lunch to test drive a potential new vehicle, which I’m strangely excited about. I really think Spyhunter has gone on it’s last mission. Changing the air filter did nothing to stop the running very hot it’s been doing since the wedding, it’s sputtering even more, and as of the last leg of this weekend’s trip we can add in intermittent A/C. I’m just SO glad that I’m already driving a car with an average mpg of 22 so I don’t qualify for this clunker credit, though, let me tell you.

The reunion went so well, though there were still a lot of faces missing that I’d like to see again. There’s always next year… so yeah, the suggestion was thrown out that we try this simple, inexpensive picnic notion every year and maybe work on something “special” for the 25, which we can plan together in the upcoming picnics. It’ll give us time to gather more faces and figure out what we’d enjoy doing together… maybe even a group trip someplace. I’m genuinely excited at the notion of it all!

Kitty was once again pretty freaked out when we got home. Second time we’ve left her alone, and she’s going right back to the pre-Smudge crazy behavior. I guess she just misses us, but she really did seem less desperate for attention when she’d had company while we were gone. Though, talked to sis and they left three cats home while they vacationed and all three were attention-whores when they got home, each one jealously vying for lap time.

It may or may not be apparent that we stayed in a hotel for this trip up for the reunion, and certainly enjoyed some pool time while we were there. We did, however, have to stop by mom’s, and I’m sad to say things were no better. Worse, actually, though I don’t think I have the inclination to spell it all out here right now — must be the TheraFlu kicking in, as I’m getting sleepy finally, though I still can’t really breathe through my nose. I’m attempting to be kind to JamesT tonight by sleeping in the guest bed instead of keeping him up all night like last night.

There are actually a couple things from this weekend I need to set down someplace, but I’ll wait for a clearer head. Just hope this sinus funk doesn’t get in the way of dinner with Maggie and her folks when they get to town. Still haven’t really processed that by Friday she won’t be living here anymore, but heck we’ve been so busy it seems we rarely chat other than via the internets anyway. Can’t see as Texas or Oklahoma or wherever will make much difference, other than perhaps a little more planning involved for when we DO want to get together in person. Anything’s doable, though, and with a new car on the horizon, I’m sure I’ll be itching to hit the road and start putting the miles on…

The thing was, even “goofing” with the game, these guys are awesome and just make it look effortless. But there was definately goofing involved, ie. “losers go butts-up for 2 serves” or serving to knock our opponents beer off the wall on the bounce.

Anywho, tennis event. Been there. Done that. James got a pile of pictures, and hopefully he’ll find at least 2 or 3 he’s happy with.

Afterwards, directly to Bob’s where the time just got away from us. I knew I was taking some really long blinks during RockBand, but damned if I really believed it was going on 5 a.m. On the bright side, with a half-bottle of vodka in him, James actually slept through the night.

Okay, so now, must shower and get on with the important things we need to get done this weekend before we just run out of time.