I play my poker hands like I play golf. Each hole is its own entity. While I’m on the hole, I’m focused. Long after I’m off the course, I might remember my total score. I might remember a few memorable holes; a few memorable shots – the putt that circles the hole completely before sinking, the fairway shot that hits the pin. But unlike my husband, and some of the rest of you, I don’t remember every poker hand blow by blow, hour by hour. And I don’t write them down. DrChako is the opposite – when he comes home from golf, he can recite every shot on every hole; he can repeat his entire hand history if I asked. Funny that if I give him a grocery list with more than 3 things on it, it has to be written, or he’ll forget.
But I digress. I remember a few hands . . . like telling our dealer I was going to regret folding my KJ to the Q-10-X on the flop. It was the right move – I had no pairs, only a couple over cards, a nine had been exposed, leaving me only 7 cards to make my straight, and Astin had put in a big bet, and got an all-in behind him before I had a chance to act. Astin took the pot with his Q-10, but the nine that fell on the river had me shaking my head. I remember thinking that DrChako would have been proud of me a few times for my appropriate aggression (used selectively, of course) – my big re-raise with only bottom pair, ace kicker, when I figured the original bet was only a continuation bet (Bayne laid down), or my big bet with only pocket fives into an ugly flop, which took it down. Or my AJ racing against Blinders KQ, and seeing him hit. I remember a few hands.
So if I don’t remember all the hands, what do I remember? The people. I remember meeting people I’d met before, people I’d chatted with over e-mail, online, on the phone. I remember meeting people I’ve never met. I remember meeting people my husband has met and told stories about. I remember meeting people who remembered him and just wanted to say “Hi” and let me know they were thinking of him. I remember the buzz in the air of shared stories of tournaments past, recent on-line tournaments, and the debauchery that has become legend. I remember putting faces and real names to these blog identities and finding out whether they looked like I imagined them to look. I remember being greeted like I was part of this big, slightly dysfunctional but happy family, just by association. I remember being greeted warmly by my newest friends, and already looking forward to our next meeting. I remember being touched by the thoughtfulness of people who took time to let me know they want my husband to return safely.
I didn’t get to meet everyone, or take pictures with everyone, but here is a pictorial of some of the people I remember (if you’re not in here, I either didn’t get time for a picture with you, or I have determined I was not so photogenic in the picture and refuse to have it published. Which could be all of them, technically . . . oh well. Next time, I owe you a hug. If you want one. I live with a Brazilian now – my capacity for hugging has increased exponentially, and it was already pretty high.).
So now, in no particular order . . . (and while the pictures are all mine, I would like to thank the camera man behind more than half of them . . . you know who you are and how you can always find my good side) . . .
Me, Al and Pauly (eat your heart out love - its me and the legends)
Me, and another legend (could he be any more adorable?)
Two of the sweetest people in Bedrock
And how could I not love a Packer fan from Bedrock
Bam Bam and Otis
A guitar in the making with Poker Peaker
The sweetheart behind the guitar (not me, sillies . . . Tragedy!)
Who knew you could find this kind, gentle soul at a poker table?
Getting a hug from the Rooster - who knew?
Voted most likely to have best hair (and I didn't think the scarf looked gay, but that's just me.)
Legendary Amy C
The man behind the kilt
Waffles (smiling, and not looking at my samba panties) - say no more