The nice Klan, the one that doesn’t burn crosses or where unflattering creepy clothes

Kathryn hates that I call my girls: the Klan.  Good Mississippi girl.  Unsure if I have shined a spotlight on my coincidental pattern (not the spotlight I used to shine on opossums while I lived in Cleveland, Ms)…the pattern of my tight group of girlfriends from all different points of my life all begin with the letter “K”.

There’s dear sweet Kelly in Florida…and we’ve never lived in the same state.  Kathryn from my young college years.  KristIn whom I met through Ruben and our friendship hit the road running (is that a saying?  because what does it mean?) Kerry who is the one person I practically call every day to share the important news like “I tried the peanut butter jar that had the mixed in jelly”.  There’s KC (yes, Casey) but when I met her she spelled her name the latter so to better compete in the dominate male field of production…so she’s still in.

And now, I’ve met Kaylyn.  Oddly, she is the one renting the house from Casey.  Last month I went over to introduce myself to her because she was looking for someone to watch her little one, Tyler.  I thought it would be a half hour max meeting.  I was there for 4 hours.  We instantly clicked.  Yesterday we had lunch…it was bizarre, being back over at KC’s.  Delilah was so happy to be back…looked for Boo for awhile and then relaxed in the sunshine.  It was as if we had known each other for years.

And so now, I have a K to represent my CT life.  Yes, there is KC/Casey but remember she’s going to Sweden for a year…so she’s out of the pool.