I hope I found the words. A letter to Tony Dick. Address, unknown.

Dear Tony,

I'm sure the last few days have been a blur. To sum up..in the early hours of Halloween morning, you had an accident. I like to think you were speeding through the desert after a night of debauchery, with a beautiful woman on the back of your motorcycle. I'm probably not far off the mark. It didn't end well this time, buddy. On All Saints Day, it was decided that we'd lost you for good. In typical Tony style, you hung around just long enough for the Vikings to lock up a win and Dallas to get smashed by Arizona. I hope whatever is waiting for you on the other side is ready for the force that is Tony Dick. If you get a spare minute, find a way to let me know you made it. If they have Facebook in the afterlife, your wall is a glowing tribute to how many people loved you. Its also the least offensive and most polite your page has been since its inception.

You were a force to be reckoned with. On so many levels.

I hate that you bought that motorcycle, even though it made you happy. I knew you'd get yourself killed on it. I didn't know it would take you less than 90 days. If I had, so many of us would have protested more. Not that you would have listened. Not that you ever listened.

You were always going to die this way, you know. It was never going to be natural causes or old age. You lived fast, loved hard and played even harder. Everything with you was an extreme. You gave 110% of yourself and always did exactly what you wanted to do. Don't get me wrong, I'm not faulting you for it. You were more than willing to take anyone along who wanted to go. Any two people plus you and its an instant party. I just wasn't ready yet. To give you up, that is.

What I have to tell my rational brain is that every single day after your aneurysm was a gift. That all of us who were lucky enough to know you already had our greatest prayers answered. But it wasn't enough, was it? I guess not, since I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself and I can't stop thinking about what I've lost.

Thanks for wrapping your words and arms around me so many years ago when I was a fledgling in the poker industry and needed a friend. Thanks for teaching me about mixed games and tipping,  brushing off losses and celebrating the wins, hard. We commiserated over our common ground as "Broken" people. People who have battled addiction and came out on the other side, albeit a little bruised. It always brought me comfort to know you were there even though our lives have shifted in different directions now that I have a family. I'm grateful we got to talk recently.

This is the night you taught me how to deal mixed games. We were at the Grand Sierra Resort in Reno, NV. I tried, hard, to dodge this table and you made the floor (Josh Treat) send me in anyway. You sat in the ten seat and coached me through every hand. Every mistake I made, you'd throw me a red bird. And every pot I pushed, you'd scold the winner into showering me with red birds. I think I made at least $700 that night. You made a miserable moment, awesome. It wasn't the first time, or the last time. You told me you were going to win a big pot with this hand. You did. <3

I'm sorry I never paid our prop bet. I really wanted to wear a shirt that says "I Love Dick" while walking down Las Vegas Blvd on a short leash with collar. I did. Even more I wanted to buy you that steak dinner. Thanks for not pushing the issue while I was 8 months pregnant with Carter. That would have been awkward.




Speaking of awkward prop bets.
(It has been brought to my attention that this picture could be misconstrued. This pic was a joke. It was a counter argument to the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge that was so popular a few months ago. Kai Landry issued a "Warm Cozy Bathtub Challenge of the Rich and Famous" or something of that nature and Tony was nominated. This was his ridiculous photo response in a series of ridiculous photo response. He wasn't even close to being serious here..)

When I'd heard you were declared brain dead, 99.9% of me was shattered to the depths of my soul. The .01% (that will slowly grow over time), imagined us sitting at a bar having a Jack and Coke and joking that your brain had finally won; leaving you in second place. Your celebratory tattoo turned into both commemoration and foreshadowing. You would drink to that.

Your sense of humor was untouchable.

I will most of all miss your sense of humor. The way it echoes my own. Its inappropriate, completely without regard to the politically correct and what bonded us the most. I fucking loved you. Even if I didn't say it in so many words.

This photo captures your essence better than any other.

While I write this, they are preparing you for organ donation. This also would have made you laugh. The jokes on them when they get inside there. Can you imagine waiting for years on a transplant list only to get Tony Dick's liver? Talk about a bad beat.

I can't help but get a lump in my throat reading all the memorials growing on your Facebook wall. Who would have thought, when all the smoke cleared in the wake of your life, that the greatest thing you would be remembered for was the size of your...wait for it... heart? The words I keep reading are love, generosity, laughter, friendship, loyalty. It would have made you proud.

Instant. Party. Even though we're blurry and I'm mostly hidden behind your shoulder, this one I will treasure.

You were the super glue that held so many people together. If you were in town, acquaintances became friends for the opportunity to celebrate your visit. I had this idea that something should be done - anything - to mark your passing so that we might not let you become a memory so easily. College scholarships and park benches are reserved for these occasions, you know. Neither of which are suitable for a man like you. So my hope, instead, is that whenever a mixed game comes together on the road or during the series.. we will all remember to throw "A red bird for the dealer". A bit of "Dicking" around, if you will, in your name. You would like that

I'm pissed at you. And sorry for every single person who will miss out on the light that you brought into every room. This is the first time I've been mad at you that you won't be able to crack a joke and make it better. It isn't the last time that I crack a joke at your expense. I promise. I think this will be a hard one for a lot of us to accept. When a force as vibrant and unstoppable as you comes to a grinding halt it makes everyone a little more afraid for their own mortality. You lived more in one day than most of us do in a lifetime.


In the words of the great D-Rod, "Today, the world loses it's Dick!".

You did it your way, friend. I'm going to miss you.



Love,

Jennifer Gay

Todd Desnoyers - I'm gonna miss your face. Rest easy, friend.

Early this morning, Amanda Desnoyers called me. I missed the call while I heated a bottle up for Carter. Her voicemail told me everything without saying more than "call me back".

She said, between sobs, when I called her back: "You know the poker people. Would you help get the word out so I can stop making phone calls?"  She sounded exactly like you'd expect a woman who'd just lost her husband to sound. Grief stricken. Frazzled. Tired. Full of the realization that this nightmare is only beginning. She spoke briefly about her family being local and an autopsy, not knowing when arrangements would be. Her words were soft and broken, tearful, before she exclaimed another call was coming in and to please keep in touch.

For the vast majority of people, those who didn't know Todd at all or only knew him through loose poker associations, you're here to find out what happened. This is a pretty normal compulsion, I imagine. He was young. Just 41. With two little girls and a wife. We can all identify with that so its natural to want to know what happened - curiosity and fear of our own impending mortality. So I'll share. But for the rest of us, those of us who loved Todd, I've got a little more I'd like to say.

Amanda says that Todd has been ill recently. He'd been battling high blood pressure and being under the weather. Back in September after a trip to the hospital, he wrote on Facebook "Today was a wake-up call that I need to take my health more seriously and start taking care of myself. My blood pressure was so high at the er the nurse was worried I was going to have a stroke. Time for life changes.".  I knew he'd battled giving up cigarettes for some time as well.

Yesterday when Amanda left for work, Todd was awake and appeared fine. When she returned, he'd passed away, presumably in his sleep. There is no more to the story and an autopsy is scheduled. I think the preliminary guess is his heart gave out.

Amanda has family support. His daughters know what happened and are with their grandparents. At this time, Amanda says she doesn't need anything. This is bound to change as needs present themselves over the next few days and weeks. I don't know if Todd had life insurance or if a fund will be established, I will update when I find out.

Todd was a special person to me. I met him years ago in Tunica. Our careers sort of paralleled one another and as we both moved through card rooms over the years a phone call saying "Hey, I need a job/reference" wasn't uncommon. He always looked after me. He told me once that I was a true friend and one of the only people he'd never question hiring, that he understood what an asset I was to a poker room. His words validated me at a time when I really needed encouragement. 

When he worked at Goldstrike and I at Horseshoe (both of us grave shift supervisors), quite often we would meet at the bar at the strike and have a beer before both heading to our respective homes. Sometimes just us, sometimes with a dealer or two. Most often with a handful of co-workers, players and other locals. Here we would all vent about relationship woes and career hurdles. Todd would confide in me when facing tough times with his home life, how much he loved his wife and daughters. That even though he sometimes envied people like me (the perpetually single and "care free"), that he wouldn't trade his family for a minute of it. Over probably 150 of these meetings spanning several years, I remember one thing more clearly than any other: He would always say "yeah, but I can only have one (sometimes one more!), I have to get home to the wife". And he was happy to do so.

I remember how Todd scrambled to find employment when the card room at the Isle didn't work out. Never content to sit back and let his family suffer. I remember how happy he was to find a home at the Hard Rock here on the Gulf Coast.

I went in to see Todd a few weeks ago. It had been a couple years since we'd been face to face. The life of a traveling dealer had taken me away and time had slipped through our fingers. Texts and facebook kept us, as it does so many friendships, connected. Steven and I had a two month old and we were out and about on our first baby-free night. I texted Todd to see if he was at work because I really wanted to introduce him to Steven. Todd said we could link up after the weekend, but I insisted on coming by right then. Always jovial, he was happy to see us.  He gave me a huge hug in the middle of the Hard Rock poker room. He looked at me for a long moment, then at Steven, and with genuine affection he said "If you'd told me, all those years ago, that you'd be here with a man you love and a new baby, I wouldn't have believed it. I'm so incredibly happy for you." I laughed it off and said something to he effect of "Gee Thanks!". I guess he'd imagined me turning out an old spinster with nine cats.

We chatted and discussed the fact that we were once again neighbors. Now that I was more in the "family" mode than the "drink, gamble, stay up all night" mode, he said we'd have to get our families together for a BBQ. He said his daughters would "love to get their hands on Carter". Because, you know, little girls love babies.

I tell myself that we were waiting for warmer weather, but I'm sitting here consumed with grief and tears knowing that we would have all been too busy. Knowing now that this was the last time I will ever talk to my warm and gracious friend, I'm ashamed of myself for not making more of a effort to BE a friend. I'm sad that I haven't been taking my own high blood pressure seriously enough, and that I didn't make an effort to commiserate with him over ways to be healthier.

Obviously, all of this, is selfish. I'm sad because I've lost someone who may have never really known how much I appreciated him. How many of those night during one beer and thirty minutes of conversation, I needed his friendship. How much I enjoyed him and his goofy personality. His terrible taste in 80's music. His bad jokes. His 5:00 AM grave shift text messages. I don't think either of us realized just how much I would miss him, now that he's gone.

Todd loved the beauty down here on the Gulf Coast. Always posting these photos with captions that read "Wow!" and "So lucky to see this every day!" It brings me peace to know he was happy down here.

I'm so sorry, Amanda. I'm sorry for your sweet daughters. They were literally the light of their daddy's eye. But you know that. I'm sorry for how alone you must feel right now. How angry and afraid. The world, at least my world and those around me, is significantly darker today as we mourn with you and your family. Thank you, so much, for sharing your husband with all of us. I hope time passes swiftly for you.

:(

A New Year - A New Blog? Well, Kinda...My absence, explained. A disclaimer.

Today is the first day of 2014.  

Countdown to 1: #100

Like everyone else, I have a few resolutions.

First though, I owe a bit of an explanation about my absence over the last year. I am in a wonderful relationship with a great man. We have a beautiful kid together. I'm happy with my home and job. Things are good. When Steven and I first started dating, I slowly began to collect and add his friends and family members to my social media outlets. You know how in the beginning of a relationship you want to start everything on the right foot?

You're looking at my whole world right there.

It was more than that. He has a family dynamic that goes beyond what most people consider "typical". His family is large and boisterous, loving and entangled. They get together often and when they can't they facebook and call, text or email. To say they're close is an understatement. A great number of them are also very Christian and very southern in values and ideals. I realized, especially as the "new girl", that I was being scrutinized. By at least a few of them. Why wouldn't I? I live with their child/nephew/sibling/cousin and we're starting a family together! We're not married and we have a kid. I'm covered in tattoos. I'm blunt and kinda..weird. I get it.

I tried.. but when I did offend, I had a good excuse!
This year, no excuses.

I sat down to write at least a dozen blogs last year and always stopped. Do you have any idea how hard it is to write ANYTHING without offending SOMEONE?!  Imagine opening your thoughts up to your entire extended family of sort-of-in-laws. Its a scary prospect. More so because I want them to like me and respect me. This isn't a scenario of "they should accept me the way I am!" but more one of me deliberately showing respect. For example: My mother and I are pretty frank with one another. She doesn't love movies full of gratuitous F words and graphic sexuality. If I'm watching one, and she's over, I give her a warning. She may or may not stick around to check it out. We watched the whole series of Nip/Tuck and Breaking Bad together. I would say my Mom falls between a stiff PG-13 and R most of the time. Never NC-17. Steven's Dad, on the other hand, will change the channel off network TV like Grey's Anatomy and The Simpsons. He has very strong opinions about contemporary media and secular society. He's a G rating kind of guy, with occasional light PG stuff thrown in from time to time. Just his preference. He watched part of a Family Guy recently and was genuinely disturbed about the state of our world (It was the episode where Stewey kills Lois.. in all fairness, a pretty graphic episode to start with!). Steven and I run a stiff R rated household. Pushing NC-17. We speak frankly, are not easily offended and watch a broad spectrum of entertainment. I've grown accustomed to changing television channels from Comedy Central and curtailing my otherwise colorful mouth when visiting with family. And don't mind doing so, one bit.

The problem though, is that at times being under the familial microscope is challenging to balance. I have always been a writer, I have always enjoyed blogging. I do not write an always-family-friendly blog. And while I can talk about home remedies, baby constipation and coupons with the best of 'em these days.. I need to be able to write freely here or not do it at all.

Going forward in 2014 it needs to be understood that this blog, and anything written here, is never meant to offend. If you are easily offended or especially sensitive, you probably shouldn't read. If you're looking for a reason to dislike me or find flaw in my personality; you'll get it on these pages. The biggest mistake people make with me is trying to "read between the lines". Don't. I'm not making innuendo or hinting at anything. I say what I mean, sometimes without thinking it through entirely first. If you can't let that roll off your back and still have affection for me, you should really not read anything I write here. Ever. This is my disclaimer for 2014. I'll come up with a condensed version for potentially offensive topics to come.

Onward to resolutions!

I like to think my resolutions actually hold a bit of water in the credibility department. Over the last four years I have met or exceeded every resolution I made, including quitting smoking and remaining a non-smoker (second only in difficulty to the standard weight loss resolutions).

I'd be happy with somewhere right in the middle.

This year I have a few. I've spent the last month preparing to begin living my resolutions.

1. I want to lose 80 pounds. This sound huge, I know. It really isn't. I still have 45 pounds of pregnancy weight to lose, and beyond that I'd like to be a bit under weight or rather, about 20 pounds under my "ideal". Steven and I would like to try to have another baby in 2015 and I want the weight gain to be more tolerable on both my heart and brain. (The only exception to this resolution would be in the event of another birth-control mishap. But we're hoping to avoid that!).

In order to prepare for this goal I have purchased the supplements I like to use (Not weight loss supplements per se.. more like vitamin B12 and bulk fiber additives, etc). I have new walking shoes. I bought a scale (something I haven't owed in years). I prepare 60% of my meals at home anyway but would like to bring this to about 90%.

I'm not going to be a fruit loop about food.. I'm just going to focus on adding activity and cutting back, not making myself crazy with limitations. I'm using the LOSEIT! App, (It's free). If you'd like to use the same app to reach your goals, message me and I'll add you as a friend.. we can work out together. Sort of. :)

Aside from feeling better and prettier, I am trying to reduce my high blood pressure naturally and reduce my risk of diabetes later in life (I had gestational diabetes which makes me very likely to develop it otherwise).

2. I will write 100 blog posts in 2014. This is right around 2 a week. This will be about 97 more than I wrote in 2013. ;) This one counts. Only 99 to go! :)

3. I will continue to not smoke, remaining smoke free in 2014. (Sometimes, its a struggle still!).

Feel free to share your new years resolutions so I may cheer you on as well. :)

On another note:

Steven and I are all set to deal at the Beau Rivage at the Million Dollar Heater starting Jan. 3rd. There are two $500,000 guarantees and I think the turn out will be excellent. I'm looking forward to seeing  some familiar faces. Get information on the event at www.beaupoker.com

Next Blog will talk about an upcoming poker cruise to Belize (Oct. 2014) we're looking at doing, and an update on the little girl so many of you helped me sponsor for Christmas.

<3

A worthy occasion to post. Yes, I am still alive. A Christmas wish. Need Help.

I realize I've been a failure of a blogger in 2013.  It's been a really hectic year. Cliff notes: Still not smoking. Mom to a beautiful boy, Carter. Living in Gulfport, MS. Incandescently happy.

But this long overdue post isn't about me.. Its about a little girl. I'll copy and paste from my Facebook post:

"Warning! I'm about to solicit some Christmas help! I went on a quest this holiday season to find a family we could help a little. I found several little ways to do small things, and I'm glad I was able to. Only today, at the last minute, have I found a family that could use some Christmas cheer from all of us. Ryli is an 8 year old girl from Pass Christian, MS. Her parents have both abandoned her in favor of meth. Ryli lives with her 60 year old grandmother who presses clothes at a local cleaner. They have a roof over their heads and food to eat, but not a penny to spare for presents or even a tree. Ryli LOVES Barbies. Her dream is to have a Barbie dream house (She has no idea how expensive they are!). She needs clothing. Grandma is horrified at the idea of anyone considering them a charity case. Do you remember being 8? She deserves a happy holiday. I am taking small donations.. $1, $5.. whatever you can spare towards a Barbie dream house and a few essentials. I have set up a PayPal donation link below. I will donate the contents of my PayPal account as well (It isn't much.. only about $50). We only have 24 hours or so to realistically put this together. I will post a screen shot of all account donations AND receipts from purchases for total transparency. If you want to pay by check or cash, pledge an amount and I'll cover it with my own funds. If we don't raise enough for a dream house, what we do raise will be spent on toys and clothes. If you can't donate, please repost this. Thanks in advance for your help! (If you'd rather donate a specific item, message me and we'll work that out too!). We gotta do this fast. Count your blessings and if you have enough left over to share a smidge, join me."

Tonight, in our last minute plight, we raised enough to purchase a deluxe Barbie Dream Home, 2 Barbie dolls and some stickers. I currently have $95 remaining to spend and will use it to purchase as many clothing items and necessary household items as I can with the remainder of the donations.

Pictures of all purchases and receipts are posted, as I get them, on Facebook.

Thank you to everyone who donated. For those of you who are still looking for a Christmas miracle to participate in.. even $1 can make an impact. I will personally email every donor a picture of what their funds purchased.

You may donate here: PayPal Christmas Fund  or send to my email BellaDonkey@gmail.com

Lets do what we can for little Ryli this Christmas. Thank you all!

And since this thing still works.. ya'll can look for an actual update this week. Merry Christmas!

Gender Eve, Change of Plans, More Blogs Forecasted

Tonight is Gender-Eve in our household.  Which is the precise night before we find out the gender of our currently ambiguous baby, making his or her appearance mid-fall. Yes, boys and girls, I'm pregnant.  I don't really need to explain HOW this happened (Do I?), or WHEN this happened. I will say that Steven and I are very happy. A bit surprised, but happy to wander into the unknown and tackle this parent thing head-on.

An accomplishment, indeed!

We weren't planning on having a child right now. Maybe some day in the very distant future. Apparently quitting smoking catapults your fertility into oblivion, making it capable of overriding even the most fastidious protection methods.

Look at us. Un-pregnant smokers. Little did we know...

But really, I'm 32. He's 28. We're employed. We have money in savings. We have vehicles that run (fingers crossed!). Family for moral support. We love each other. Why not?

I know that I could spend the rest of my life with this man, and never question it. He's definitely "the one" for me. So why not? Parenthood, here with come!

I know I joke all the time, but really, he is the greatest man I know.
And I have fun with him.
That's pretty much all the convincing I needed.
Oh and he does dishes too. SCORE!

Our immediate plans are to settle in Gulf Coast, Mississippi.  We're looking to buy somewhere in the Gulfport or Long Beach area. Maybe Biloxi. Continue to travel with the WSOP some, deal here some and maybe utilize our educations a bit. Ultimately though, we still want to hit the Florida poker market and migrate towards warmer, sunnier climate. Maybe once the Walnut is school age.

We are both going to Vegas this summer.. though I'll be big as a house. And then to the WPO in Tunica, MS. After that, I may go into hibernation for the remainder of the year while he steps out a  bit for various events (if necessary).

I won't bog the blog down with gritty pregnancy details. Though we're purely a couple formed through the poker world, I can't imagine a primarily poker playing demographic wants to hear about how I'd slay someone for Mexican food right now. If you're interested in following along, finding out more about the Walnut and whatnot, feel free to add me (or him!) on Facebook.

Needless to say, this is a big change for me.  Those of you who know me, or even those who have just followed through the blog over the last few years, know that I've always been footloose and fancy free.  A relationship was a stretch for me.. much less, a SERIOUS relationship. But things change.. and really, there is something different with this one.  I chased this man down since the first conversation we had. I fell in love first. Head over heels really. I moved mountains to put myself in his path and win him over. And though he was never far behind me on any sentiment or idea... this is the first time in my life I've been 1,000% sure that I want something. Someone.

I couldn't be happier. Even when I'm bawling because the pregnancy has made me a temporary nutt bar.

So I won't be traveling the world, at least with as much frequency. But I will have more time to devote to my writing. I certainly have more time for reading.  Please message me your recommendations for what blogs I need to add to my blogroll, or feel free to link your own below. Hopefully, I'll be seeing much more of all of you now.

Thanks for reading!

"You Love Angry Birds More Than Me" - I am a Non-Smoker.

Last night I sat at the bar with a cigarette laying in front of me, wondering for a full thirty minutes if I was going to smoke it.  It's always hardest when drinking, but there was a test of wills at stake as well.  Steven and I were a few shots deep, the people we were hanging out with had already left.. No one would know.  We could slip, for just a second, and really no harm would come of it.  It sort of became the purple elephant-in-the-room until I went to grab it, figuring I'd be doing us both a favor by lighting the damn thing already.  Before I could, Steven snatched it and snapped in in two.  The second he did, he looked as if he'd made a terrible decision.  Had his eyes welled with tears, I wouldn't have been surprised. But they didn't.  He's only a hair more resolute than I am with this whole not-smoking fiasco.

We've both been smoke free for two months, give or take a few days.

Though smoking IS good for weight loss, I'm not interested so much in the above look.

I didn't want to quit.  Hell, I may start back some day.  But I hope not.  For me, it was about finding something that I loved and desired more than the cigarettes.  And make no mistake.. If ever someone was loyal to a Marlboro Menthol Light, it was THIS girl. Not to imply that I quit for Steven. Hardly. You can't quit for a guy.  J and I (The last most significant ex, for newer readers) talked about quitting for eons and it never stuck. And it wasn't for lack of affection for him, it just never happened.  Steven never asked me to put them down.  He made the decision to do it himself, and he was simply done. He never made any requests of me or even subtle suggestions.

Though we do kinda look adorable all dead and stuff..

This was different. I saw his resolve, despite it being hard for him, and I was inspired.  There is no parade when you quit smoking.  Quite the contrary.. You don't tell many people because half of them will be naysayers, suggesting your failure during the toughest first days.. some will offer you a smoke with the best of intentions and even worse; you don't want to broadcast it too prominently in case you DO fail. So without fanfare, I watched Steven choose this struggle that to non-smokers seems like a no-brainer and to smokers seems ludicrous, and it occurred to me that if I ever wanted non-judgmental, unwavering support from someone who always wants me to succeed I had to do it NOW. The vain girl in my brain pictured him becoming a non-smoker while I lit up day after day next to him in the car or hotel room, and slowly becoming more repulsive in his eyes. The smell of my hair and skin sickening him, or worse, tempting him to relapse. It was 24 hours, give or take an hour, after he smoked his last that I did the same.

Not only does his strength and resolve inspire me, but I want to be the best version of myself I possibly can be. Not just for me, but for him too.  He deserves it.

This is my first attempt at quitting.  Yes, I've heard it all about it taking multiple attempts before you finally get it right.  Maybe I'll relapse and this entire blog post becomes embarrassing.  The thing that makes it so challenging is the lack of oversight.  There is no committee set up to issue fines if you break your vow to never strike another match.  Just like quitting comes without fanfare, so does smoking.  You don't have to face an inquisition or even a parade for buying a pack. You can do it whenever you like and face absolutely no immediate consequence. That makes it SO easy.

I don't mean to imply that every day is agony.  Far from it. Most of the time I don't even think about smoking anymore.  There is nothing to stop me from smoking. I can go buy a pack now and smoke the whole thing and I wouldn't owe even an explanation, to anyone.  I think THAT is what makes this so different from most challenges.  You are only accountable to yourself. Smoking is awesome, when you're a smoker.  It relaxes you, it tastes amazing and you become part of a club where the members have no idea how disgusting they really are.  Once you decide to quit, your membership card to that club isn't revoked, but now you get a glimpse of how repulsive the membership makes you. You have a choice to make. Lighting a cigarette is CHOOSING to be disgusting. To be in pain. To die of cancer. You can no longer delude yourself with the kid philosophy that you're not addicted and you can "quit at any time", because once you've made the decision to quit and then failed.. You've acknowledged that this is so much bigger than you. There is something far more sinister about CHOOSING to be repulsive, unhealthy and full of failure. All for what?'

I gotta give you credit for one thing, Marlboro, you were always faithful. <3

The physical addiction is fleeting.  The shortest part.  After that, the psychological warfare can go on for a lifetime.  I mourned the loss of cigarettes as if a good friend had died.  And really, they had. Marlboro and I spent a lot of time together.  Quite often at my most alone, most depressed and most exhausted is when I counted on Marlboro the most.  And they never let me down. It was a $6 relationship I could call on any time I wanted that never stood me up.

For Steven, putting down the cigarettes was the passing of something more symbolic. The ability to make kid-decisions with abandon.  A total lack of concern for the future or adult hood because the realities of repercussion were a distant possibility.  Suddenly repercussion was all around him and instead of staring off a million years down the road, he is faced with the reality of his mortality. Grow up now, kid, or in five to ten years you won't be able to breathe. In 15 years you'll be facing yearly scans for lung spots. If you have any desire to be a parent, you won't be able to throw the ball around with your kids. You're not 21 any more. The approaching of 30 seemed to be the corner in his brain between "stupid twenty-something debauchery" and "this is my life", and he decided to be a non-smoker.

For those of you quitting yourself, or considering taking the leap, don't misunderstand what I've written here to imply that having someone to share the agony with is necessary. Or even easier.  Make no mistake, there were a few days after we'd first given up the sticks that I truly believe a grisly homicide might occur.  We don't really fight, the two of us.  When we argue or disagree, we don't yell or throw things or stomp around or make ridiculous declarations. There is a lot of silence and discussion and sometimes wandering elsewhere to clear our heads usually. However, I think on nicotine-free day 3 (the hardest for me) I recall standing at the foot of our bed and yelling that he loved Angry Birds more than me before flinging myself dramatically from the hotel room and down the hall into a 3 am morning in Atlantic City, New Jersey. In December. This is insanity for many reasons, the first and foremost being that the man MAYBE plays Angry Birds once or twice a week. For a whole ten minute marathon. Secondly, I put it on his phone because I play it. Third, I don't give a damn what he does. I don't need a constant barrage of attention or have any need to control his time. But for some reason in that instant, I lost my mind. Absolutely gone. It was the end of the world and my boyfriend had chosen Angry Birds over our life together.

My crazy Non-Nictotined brain saw her as the 'other woman'.

I quietly slipped back into the room 45 minutes later.  He slept with one hand on my side all night long.  This was partially out of affection for me, and partially so he would know where I was at all times.  The man is smart.

The homicidal phase passed around a week later.  After that its just a maintenance phase.  Cravings surprise me.  Not in their strength or intensity. Quite the opposite. Cravings are subtle. Little caressing whispers in your ear saying "Mmmmm, a cigarette would be delicious right now".  So subtle that it starts to manifest as if it was YOUR idea instead of a compulsive desire, and suddenly you can't remember if you want one or not.  I've found that acknowledging the craving and really focusing on it makes it harder to cope with. My way of not letting it sneak up on me. When this happens, I'll say out loud "Man, I really want a cigarette! Lets go buy a pack!" knowing Steven will say no. This is my way of sorting it out.  Of course, I probably sound like a fiend always jonesing to him.. but as long as I'm not smoking, who cares how I get there, right?

Everyone talks about how food will taste SO much better, and you'll feel SO much better and how life will be grander and happier and full of rainbows and puppies and unicorns if you quit.  I think this is a lie that people who've quit tell themselves to make their NEW clubhouse seem special.  None of these things have happened for me yet. If food tasted better its because I was eating five times as much. You gain weight, you feel bloated, ankles that once displayed impeccable bone structure may or may not swell from excessive potato chip consumption or other sodium absorption. It isn't pretty.

Gangrene, incidentally, is also not pretty.
Does anyone actually know someone who got gangrene from smoking?
I mean really.
Come on.

I can, however, breathe a little deeper. I am proud of myself. And after a month or so, you stop wanting to eat every thing in sight. If the depression from a 20 pound weight gain doesn't launch you back into smoking, you may even find yourself ready to tackle diet and exercise around month two.

And that's where we are right now, in my journey towards staying a non-smoker. A lot of you are going through, have been through or are considering taking the plunge.  Feel free to drop me a message. Wage your homicidal thoughts on me. I get it.

Marlboro should be forced to send me one of these.
You know, as an apology for the COPD I'll probably still get.
 

I'll be back later. Hopefully sooner than four months from now, which seems to be the last time I posted. My apologies for that. Thanks for still reading and reposting, as always. <3

My New Friend the Skink, Ante Up Cruise, 24 Hour Jaunt to Jersey and More.

I currently have a no-contact order against a blue tailed skink. One has taken up residence on my front porch.  This is unfortunate, as this is my favorite place of refuge multiple times throughout the day.  He seems as distraught by my presence as I am his, though, so hopefully we're able to come to a mutual division of assets and maintain a comfortable civil arrangement.

My Skink-A-Saurus Rex. He's larger than some house dogs.

I just finished up dealing the Ante Up Cruise with the crew from the magazine. It was amazing. I don't know what I expected a "poker" cruise to be like, but I can't believe it's taken me this long to find out. I can't stress it enough.. you MUST go on one of these cruises.  The next one I'll be on is Feb. 4-8th, leaving from Port Canaveral, Florida. I would love for some of you to come along. 

Don't you want to cruise with this dealing staff?

The first day was spent at sea evading Hurricane Isaac. We dealt and played poker all day long, shared cocktails with friends and enjoyed the pretty awesome food aboard the Monarch of the Seas.  The next day, Poker News Senior Editor and friend, Chad Holloway and I took our Moms to Nassau for shopping. (We both had our Moms as our dates aboard the ship!).  The afternoon was spend zipping along on Jet Skis off the coast of Cabbage Beach behind the Atlantis Casino and Resort.

Cabbage Beach is oddly lacking in cabbage.

The following day was spent at CoCo Cay. Eric Terpening, Heather Mae and I went snorkeling and despite clearly defined barriers.. immediately slipped off the shelf into "no man's land" and came face to face with a mutant Manta Ray. When Terp pointed it out, I literally couldn't see it because everything was dark in front of me. Then, in slow motion, as the current rippled it's arm/fin/skin flap thing.. I realized the darkness WAS the Manta Ray. It was the single most awesome and terrifying moment of my existence. Only heightened by the sheer terror I saw on the faces of my co-snorkelers as I realized a smaller (but still Volkswagen sized) Manta Ray had settled onto the sand directly beneath my feet. It was pretty amazing.  We saw barracuda, eel and box jelly fish. We were attacked, rather viciously, by some variety of large tropical fish. I couldn't have had a better day.

Terp, the co-snorkeler who had my back in the "Manta Ray incident of 2012".

The remainder of the cruise was spent in the poker room.  It's amazing how you can board a ship with a handful of familiar faces and leave with dozens of friends.  It might have something to do with the fact that no one can escape. These cruises are worth every penny they cost.. (And really, at around $350 a person, it's a bargain). I can't stress enough.. PLEASE come join us. You haven't lived until you've partied with the Ante Up Crew. For more information, please visit www.anteupmagazine.com.

Following my Bahamas experience, I went and visited my sister in Destin for a minute.  My brother in law just returned from Afghanistan and it was nice to see him safely back stateside. Then a quick trip to return Mom to Memphis, and in less than 24 hours I was back on the coast to kill 36 hours with the always fun PK. In dealer world we're practically neighbors, and when I realized I had no specific plans for Labor Day.. it made perfect sense to recruit/force-by-guilt-trip him into spending the afternoon playing air hockey and seeing Possession with me. Time well spent. If you have the pleasure of having him deal to you, feel privileged. He's one of the good guys.

Incidently, this movie poster is the scariest thing about the movie. It wasn't "bad". It was just kinda.. "Meh".

Speaking of good guys.. Chris Quan busted his ass to get me lined up to deal at the Borgata in Atlantic City. After leaving the coast, I rushed back to Memphis, pulled a quick dealing shift at an unspecified location and then immediately left the game to board a plane to Jersey. With almost zero sleep, I was quickly running on empty.  On the flight out there I was rather delirious.  So it's no surprise when I saw a strapping young gentleman assisting every lady over 40 with her luggage, that I'd pop off with some smart ass comment about him being on a work-release program. Instead of him being offended, he laughed. I knew then that we'd end up friends. But sleep was taking priority and I quickly forgot about my new travel buddy. It was when he heroically returned my driver's license (I'd dropped it without noticing) that I made the effort to chat him up a bit.  Sarasota Greg made the second half of my flight a lot more enjoyable. He's interesting and smart and as charming as a Yankee can be. ;) Welcome to my blog, new facebook buddy! (P.S. I DID mention that almost everything I do ends up publicly spread all over the internet, didn't I? Oh I didn't? My bad.)

This is a VERY flattering picture of Atlantic City. Trust me.

So now I'm in Jersey. At the prestigious Borgata WPT event. I'm THRILLED! All set to deal.. make new friends and continue to take the poker world by storm right?! Nope. Apparently if you've ever been married and divorced, you must have copies of your marriage and divorce decrees in order to obtain a Jersey gaming license. Yeah.. let me just grab those out of my purse. Oh wait. I don't carry those with me. FOILED.  I spent the afternoon walking on the beach with Andy Lee, sobbing and feeling sorry for myself. I still hadn't slept, so I was a swirling vortex of tears and heartbroken declarations. 12 hours later.. Yep. Back on a plane to Memphis.




Starting out the trip, plane-resting on dealer cushions, curled up in my Carhartt Hoddie.
 Really excited, 24 hours without sleep.
Didn't care.. running on adrenaline.

Finishing up the trip, in the airport, 47 hours without sleep.
I make end stage terminal patients look vivacious.

I came home and slept 15 hours. Woke up. Turned over. Slept 15 hours more.  And now we're here. I have no immediate plans. Going to play in a poker tournament with the illustrious Scott Williams tomorrow. Gonna go down to Bossier for the WSOP circuit stop and harass my dealer friends, have dinner with Bob Talbot, and hopefully run into Kenny Milam (Who I've been promising a blog mention for over a year now!) and perhaps take HIM to dinner. Right now my tentative plans include kidnapping PK after the event wraps up and road tripping down to Florida for some poker. But my car seats four comfortably.. and six in a pinch.. so anyone up for an adventure is welcome to come along. (It's ALWAYS an adventure in the Death-Focus!).

Thanks for reading, and continuing to read. <3