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It never ends. Last night I was bowling with E.L. and who shows up in the next lane but D.K., the second man I uhh, ahem. Anyway, he doesn't even live here; he was in town doing business at the base. We had some problems back in high school because "Jesus says its wrong, Erin", although Jesus had no problem with oral sex evidently. So now this guy is getting a master's in divinity from some Baptist bible college in Alabama. I'm sure the last time I saw D.K. we were with E.L., 9 years ago in Savannah. They tried to kayak together in an inflatable kayak E. had bought with Marlboro miles and ended up spinning uncontrollably in a sound. In fact, I'd forgotten how much D. liked doing dangerous shit. He used to love to show me where he'd cut himself mountain biking back when I was dating his roommate at Tech. That was a part of the chain I'd completely forgotten about when I wrote about my lovers leading to lovers. Anyway, (last night) his brother R. showed up, had no idea why I laughed in his face when he told me he'd been a cop for the last six years (the last time I saw him 8 years ago, the two of us were drunk, driving through town hanging out of the sunroof) and then R proceeded to start buying pitchers. No one is planning a ten year reunion, but I think I've run into everyone I want to see.

Oh, and I think I'm finally learning to bowl.

And in the obituary section, V's brother, who I grew up with, attemped to save his wife's mother and sister from an abusive stepfather and was shot and killed. I still can't get my mind around it. A. had just had his first child. Thank god the killer's in jail. I mean, I've been drunk, and I've been drunk, but I'm quite certain I'm never gonna shoot someone in the heart with a shotgun.

Also, my mother's 12 year old cat will be put to sleep today. He was about 20 pounds and had little quality of life, but its still sad. That cat followed my mother around like a dog, wagging its tail. He had the best personality of any cat I've ever met and I don't know what my mother will do now. Take over my cat, I suppose. R.I.P. Sargie.

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