Packing Pointers for Lightweights

If you are like me, and you love to travel, you also love things that make traveling easier, right? Well, today, I’m gonna let you in on a few of my favorite packing secrets!

When it comes time to pack for an upcoming trip, I am always ready. I love being organized almost as much as I love being efficient. Yep, I’m that grrrl who invested $349 in the ultra lightweight tent because it only weighed 3 lbs. 7 oz. and I could set it up in less than 2 1/2 minutes. So, when it comes to packing, I’m always thinking about ‘weighs’ to minimize what I have to carry, and reduce the weight (especially when backpacking). (Did you see what I did there?)

One thing that is hard to skimp out on is clothing. If you’re hiking alone in the woods, wearing the same stinky shirt 3 days in a row is fine (unless the bears disagree). However, when I’m traveling to present at a sustainability conference in Croatia or Sao Paulo, I expect to be able to look (and smell) presentable. So, what’s a grrrl to do to look good without carrying 56 pounds of baggage? Pack SMARTER!

 

Nummer Eins (#1) – Layers

Okay, so you’re going on a cruise and, although you hope to be spending most of your time in a swimsuit, you also know that there will be some rainshowers and some brisk ocean winds at night. This doesn’t mean you need to pack a parka. Being smart about your layers can allow you to be prepared for the extreme weather without packing your bag to the extreme.

Find a lightweight, waterproof windbreaker that is big enough to fit over a couple of other layers with room to move comfortably. Better yet, find one that comes with its own stuff sack, so it all but disappears when you don’t need it, and is easy to throw in your daypack- just in case.

Next, forgo that cozy-yet-bulky sweater and go for a super warm undershirt, something like UnderArmour, a very thin, tight fitting underlayer that you can wear under just about any of your favorite shirts. I start sweating if I even look at my UnderArmour, so , thankfully, it also wicks moisture away from your skin!

 

Numero Dos (#2) – Versatility

If you have ever watched a late-night infomercial about the new and improved kitchen gadget cuts tomatoes, sharpens itself, disinfects your cutting board, and comes with a GPS tracker, you know that sometimes versatility can get a little weird… but hear me out here. When it comes to clothing- especially women’s clothing- you can easily get creative and make multiple fresh outfits by using one article of clothing in new ways.

For example, there are a number of delightful dresses out there that can also double as a skirt, or a scarf, or a wrap, etc. As long as you don’t pick the one with very distinctive pineapple print, nobody will know that you just got 5 days out of one item! (NOTE: Some of these so-called convertible dresses can be cheaply made, so buyer beware. You don’t want it to convert to a strapless because the straps fell off!)

Personally, I go for the pants that fold up into capris, and then zip off the legs completely for cute shorts. These are perfect if you plan to visit religious temples where covering up is required to enter, or if you plan to be out all day and know that you will get warm later. Just zip off the pant legs and you can either roll them up with a hair tie and stick them in your purse, or tie them to the back of your pack when on the go.

 

Numéro trois (#3) – Super Underwear

Your life will never be the same after this one. Imagine only packing TWO PAIRS of underwear for your 4 week trip of a lifetime. Seriously. I’m sure there are lots of brands out there, but I am a diehard advocate of Exofficio. I first learned about them when they were listed on clearance at steepandcheap.com. They claimed to be moisture-wicking, fast-drying, and comfortable. They weren’t much to look at, but I was looking for functionality, not sexuality. So, before my month-long trek through Thailand, Laos and Cambodia, I decided to take a risk and bought them online. They were 60% off, so I figured I didn’t have much to lose.

I. LOVE. THEM.

Now, there are all sorts of cute options too! Want to feel sexy and lacy, while also being able to wash, dry, and put them back on the next morning? Done. I can literally travel the world with just two pairs of underwear now! Every night I simply use soap or shampoo to wash them in the sink, wring them out, and hang them up overnight. By morning, they are fresh and ready to go!

While hiking in Red River Gorge, KY last fall, I totally forgot to wash my undies before falling asleep. So, in the morning, I did the evening routine, with one major change, and was able to wear them again in less than two hours. What’s the trick? After wringing them out, I wrapped them inside my towel, pressing on the bundle so that the towel absorbed most of the leftover moisture. After 2-3 minutes, you then unwrap the undies (which will be just barely damp), then air dry as usual. This has literally saved my arse! I call them my “Super Underwear!”

Now, I know, some grrrls love to stick to all natural fabrics. It’s true that the magic of Super Underwear occurs using a blend of 93% Nylon / 7% Spandex. But have you ever put on soggy cotton undies? Gross. Plus, unless you are buying 100% organic cotton, you are supporting one of the worst industries as far as damaging the environment goes.

Still not sure? Don’t just take my word for it. These were also voted among the top ten ‘Best Gift for Adventurers’ as chosen by readers of USA TODAY and 10Best.

Number Four (#4) – Compression

You know those cheap plastic zippered bags that sets of sheets come in? For years, I saved those, bound and determined to keep them out of the landfill and put them to good use. I store shoes in them, I pack clothing in them. They are a great way to get organized for free! If all you are looking for is a way to organize, and not compress, this is a great (free) way to reuse something. Just don’t be sad when the corner of the plastic tears out. No lifetime guarantee on those suckers.

However, after years of trying to find cheaper alternatives, I finally caved and spent the dough on the fancy compression packs that I used to scoff at.

“Thirty bucks for a scrap of tent fabric and a couple of straps? No thanks!”

If you’re an athlete, you’ve heard of compression clothing. Well, travelers should also know how to compress their ordinary clothing for much different reasons.

When backpacking, there are compression sacks or bags, which allow you to reduce the volume of your gear in a number of handy designs. I love these, but they are not exactly helpful for keeping you looking wrinkle free. Lightweight, durable, and functional, I am starting to see the value in them. The bags are ideal for stuffing into a pack.

Now there are compression cubes, which allow you to roll your linens, stuff them, and then compress them. The rectilinear, yet soft design, allows them to maximize space in your suitcase. The volume reduction won’t be as good as with the bags, but it is way easier to simply unzip and pull out the one faoprite shirt you love, instead of pawing through the bag searching for it in the wad of clothing.

Voila! You just saved enough room in your suitcase to be able to bring home a souvenir gong to hang in your living room!

Lean OUT- What it Means to be a NON-Leader

“I knew that I could only be happy if I was in charge.”

 

At a recent Women in Business Retreat, I listened to amazing women share inspiring stories about how they overcame failure, started up new businesses with only $33 left in their bank account, brought sexual harassers to justice, and grew into CEOs of billion dollar corporations.

 

Inspirational? Undeniably.

 

Relatable? Not so much.

 

Society tells us that these women are WINNERS. They are the very definition of SUCCESS. As much as we all may think we want to be that successful, when it comes right down to it, we are not all leaders. For some of us, in fact, being the president of a company would be our worst nightmare. All the responsibility. All the stress. All the blame. And, yes, all the glory.

 

We have fought for generations to break those glass ceilings. Studies show that women are proven to be more effective leaders, because of our differences in communication, and yet we still only hold 17% of the leadership positions in this country. All true, and important, right?

 

The subliminal messaging out there to women is this: If YOU don’t get out there and climb that corporate ladder, you are failing womankind, and dooming the next generation of girls because they won’t have enough role models of women in power.

Now, I absolutely agree that some women have innately superior leadership skills than their male peers. Yes, I am always proud when I see women heading up companies and doing a damn good job of it. And OF COURSE I want to see a female president. But just because women are still fighting for equal rights doesn’t mean that we ALL should be vying for the corner office.

 

Why Don’t You Want to be a Leader??

We all define success differently. Sure, when I was a little kid, I wanted to be a movie star. I wanted to be that person you read about or see being interviewed because they have done something so awesome that society deems them newsworthy. I excelled in school, getting excellent grades, winning scholarships. After being vice president of Earth Club as a sophomore in high school, the next year I became president, because… there’s nowhere else to go but up, right?

 

I took on leadership roles, because that’s what you are supposed to do. I studied psychology and loved learning about all the different personality types and how those innate characteristics influence the ways in which we communicate with each other. I learned about effective leadership skills, and have been trained on how to be a good manager. I never asked for a promotion, but was given them.

 

In 2012, I was working for a company with layers upon layers of middle management, in an office led by a narcissistic chauvinist who took pleasure in smiling while he insulted you. Just 6 months after being hired, my direct supervisor approached me to offer me a promotion to Outreach Manager. I would have additional responsibilities for a team of seven, with more goals to meet and reports to write. There would be a 10% pay increase, and I would, of course, be expected to work more hours and set a ‘standard’ for work ethic. I told him I would think about it and let him know. He looked at me with utter confusion, “Don’t you want to be a manager? Don’t you love mentoring other people?” He was handing me a golden ticket and I responded with maybe.

(Image credit here)

I looked at the hierarchy of our company, and remember thinking, “No, I don’t want to climb this ladder. I don’t want to be the one to get berated at meetings by the dictator in charge. I don’t want to fill your position when you get promoted. I don’t want any of this.” But I took the promotion. I managed the heck out of that team. I met all my goals and dealt eloquently with underperforming team members, working hard to mentor them and train them for future success. I strove to be the best boss I could be, and to shelter my team from the toxic work environment that we were in.

 

Every day, I came home and walked in the door completely drained. I hated my job. It’s not that I don’t love mentoring other people- especially younger women. I’ll tell every single woman I meet to never accept her first job offer, to know her value and negotiate her salary. I have spent a lot of time learning and sharing the secrets of how to effectively communicate with different types of men in order to succeed. I want my peers to be ready to climb that ladder, but I just prefer the view from down here.

 

What Does it Mean to NOT Want to be the Leader?

I’ll tell you what it doesn’t mean.

It does not mean you are brainwashed by society.

It doesn’t mean you simply can’t envision a woman doing it.

It does not mean you are lazy or don’t believe in yourself.

It doesn’t mean you’re settling.

 

I now have a job that I LOVE. I travel the state and get to tour all sorts of cool factories. I’m constantly learning interesting new things! I’m interacting with people at all levels of a company. I know how to talk to C suite executives, and I do it quite well.

 

In 2015 I was approached by my boss to apply for a brand new, manager position. It’s basically the same job I have, plus managing a few other folks. I applied for it, and got the promotion, along with a 4% pay increase. I’m not going to say no to a raise, but there’s pretty much nowhere else for me to go in this position… and I like that. I don’t want to be the director, because that means that all the fun stuff that I love so much would disappear, replaced by forecasting and spreadsheets and meeting after meeting after meeting. I don’t want that job. And that’s okay.

For those of us who know that we don’t want to be the leader, defining success is a bit trickier. I know that I love my job, but I also love my family, my health, my hobbies, and my friends. I think that having a work-life balance IS success. I don’t need a new job title, or a fancy promotion, though they trigger lovely ‘congratulations’ from friends and family. I could do this job for the rest of my career, and as long as I’m still enjoying it, I am a success. That doesn’t mean I’m lazy. It means I’m intentional. And happy!!

From Granny Hair to Silver Fox

Our household is a little bit unconventional. In many ways, actually- probably too many to count! There is one in particular that I think everybody should adapt to – LOVING grey hair. My wife has a head full of thick, salt n peppa locks, and she is rockin’ it! And as for me, well, I’m not so lucky.

 

My chocolate tresses have denied me my wishes to go prematurely grey for too many years. I know what you’re thinking, “Why on earth would you WISH for grey hair?” Well, I have good reasons.

 

It’s not like it’s something that I envisioned as a 12-year-old girl, but I started to wrap my mind around the idea right around the time that I left college for the workforce. You see, as a young Architect, especially a young, woman Architect, it’s hard to be taken seriously. Men frequently assumed that I was ‘just some intern,’ or an interior decorator, or even a secretary, just because of the way I looked.

 

I will never forget the first time a male colleague did this to me. We had met several times over a couple of months while managing the construction of a 145,000 square foot LEED building project. A group of 5 or 6 of us from both my  architecture firm and the construction management company went out to lunch together. As we were walking out of the restaurant to head back to the job site, a man- less than 10 years older than me- turned to me and asked about a wallpaper detail.

“Oh, Kelly, did you find out when the special ordered paper for president’s office will arrive?”

Puzzled, I looked at him and asked, “What do you mean?” I was standing right next to Schana, the actual interior designer on the project.

“I’m just trying to coordinate with the installers. It’s the same color as the room next door, right?”

“I’m not sure why you are asking me. I don’t usually deal with that.”

“But… aren’t you the interior designer on this?” he asked, clearly very confused.

“Nooo… I’m the project Architect. Schana is the interior designer.”

 

He stammered an apology as a look of horror came across his face, realized that he had clearly just insulted me with a sexist assumption. Women pick out colors, right? I had spent 10 years earning 2 degrees in architecture, trained for 4 years of technical internship, and passed SEVEN EXAMS in order to wear the title of Architect with a capital ‘A’ thank you very much.

 

That was the day I decided that maybe a few streaks of grey would help lend me the credibility and respect that I so sorely lacked in this male-dominated field. I began noticing all the beautiful women around me donning their natural greys, pining after their luck. I was 27.  

 

Finally, after years of waiting, I got my wish and got my first grey hair! Right at my left temple, too- I couldn’t believe it! To date, I still only have a handful, but each time I notice a new streak of silver, I squeal with delight and point it out to my wife, who smiles and laughs at my utter giddiness. Just last week she held me in her arms and said, “When you wear your hair up like that it really accentuates your greys,” which, of course was a HUGE compliment! “You know, you must be the only woman who is excited about getting silver hairs!” she giggles at me.

 

That can’t be right. Can it? I started wondering how other cultures treat silver foxes, and why women in America are so quick to cover up their natural beauty.

 

Despite the obvious benefit for my profession, I also think that a silver sparkle is beautiful! Each glittery strand is a badge of honor, an award for my own life experiences. Every year I grow older and wiser, so why wouldn’t I want to show my true age? (I’m 35 ⅔, by the way).

 

“Granny Hair”

Interestingly, I might be onto something. A recent fashion trend has appeared to highlight a renewed interest in grey. Young women (and men) across America, Europe, and Asia in their teens, twenties, and thirties are starting to intentionally dye their hair shades of grey. Because… why not? Silver is sexy! I may not care for the hashtag #grannyhair, but I love the looks that people are embracing.

 

In the UK, there has been an 83% spike in sales of gray hair color products compared to the year before. Celebrities are trying grey on for size, and looking fabulous while doing it. Perhaps this will be the year that natural gray becomes truly embraced?

 

 

Why does hair turn grey?

LOS ANGELES, CA – NOVEMBER 21: Singer Pink arrives at the 2010 American Music Awards held at Nokia Theatre L.A. Live on November 21, 2010 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Jason Merritt/Getty Images for DCP)

Despite the hottest trends, we will all someday learn to rock the salt n pepper look. Grey hair is caused by a lack of pigmentation and melanin, just like what causes some people to be born Albino. The process as we age is called Achromotrichia, and it normally begins in our twenties (late twenties for women), eventually turning the hair gray and then white.  What causes this change is actually the death of the melanocyte stem cells in our hair follicles. By age 40, more than 60%  of Americans have some gray hair. Interestingly, it’s your nose hairs that usually grey first! Followed by head hair, beard, body hair, and eyebrows.

 

So it’s not stress? Some studies have shown evidence for a link between chronic stress causing and premature achromotrichia, but no definite link has been established. I know that in my brother, Kurtis, he started going grey after a severe car accident left him in a state of partial comatose. We don’t dye his hair either. There’s also a stress hormone cortisol that accumulates in human hair over time, but whether this has any effect on hair color has not yet been resolved. Sometimes, malnutrition is also a factor, causing hair to become lighter, thinner, and more brittle. Thankfully, most of us in the U.S. are safely protected from this risk.

 

Do Other Cultures Fear the Grey?

There is a long history here. In ancient Egypt, women used oil and the blood of a black cat to cover their sparkle. The Romans blended ashes, walnut shells, and earthworms for a dye! (check out Encyclopedia of Hair for more interesting facts)

In Native American cultures, hair holds much more symbolic significance, and is treated with much more respect and caution. As one would expect, tribal culture is much more in tune with nature, and respects the traditional path of aging.

“You were given a sacred color of hair to wear and you were never to bleach (whiten) or dye your hair. Even the word dye/die when used for coloring states the death or divination of a God-given thought and purpose. … Bleaching ones hair to change spiritual status, does not make one an Elder or Pre-dating Spirit, for you are born who you are, chosen, and elevated by God, not by Mankind. In Native ceremony when ocher and hennas were used on hair it was understood that it was for a Sacred purpose and Spirit (God) inspired, and the natural color would naturally return… Cutting your hair usually occurs when one chooses to make a major change in ones life, putting past misdeeds behind them, and beginning a new/knew life. In Native teachings many tribes cut their hair during the mourning process, which symbolizes the deep wound to ones sensibilities caused by the piercing hurt of a loved ones passing.” – White Wolf Pack

In China, most people are born with very dark hair, but it is not uncommon to see greys in the population. However, their entire Communist parliament is filled with men who dye their hair black, in order to keep the impression that they are going to live forever (and lead forever).

 

A Cure?

For the truly rich and vain, there is actually a cure for going grey. The  anti-cancer drug imatinib has recently been shown to reverse the graying process. But you might not be ready to order it on amazon quite yet. Those drugs cost a pretty penny, and vanity might not be worth that price tag!

 

Thankfully, I see more and more women proudly sporting their silver streaks. I call mine sparkles. The fact that there is now demand for young folks to brazenly sport the grey look just like any other color gives me hope. I might just have to go order myself a set of silver hair extensions, just because I can.

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The Brief but Powerful Role of Keystone Underground: How Kelly Met Bethany

It had been a bitterly cold week, especially for so early in December, and filled with frustration at the office. The guy in charge was exercising his newfound power by declaring their startup nonprofit of five “NOT a democracy.” By Wednesday Kelly was already thinking about the weekend, and she texted Lisa to see if she wanted to go out dancing Friday or Saturday night. It’s good to help blow off steam, and prevent herself from becoming a complete hermit crab, Kelly decided. Lisa is pretty much always interested in dancing, and surprisingly available last minute, which made her Kelly’s favorite dancing buddy.

Me: We could try Elks Lodge Friday night

Lisa: Well, I’m actually supposed to go on a sort of date Friday night, which might be fine, because we’re meeting at 6:30, but I probably shouldn’t plan on being done early.

Me: Oh, nice! Well have a good time on your maybe date. What about Saturday?

Lisa: Saturday’s wide open, I think. And I’m pretty sure that is the night my friend was telling me about something going on in Ypsilanti at some new place that opened up there.

Me: Oh? I’ve never really been to Ypsilanti, except to buy art supplies once.

Lisa: Yeah, I’m trying to remember what the place is called… I’ll have to look it up. But she did say that it’s a completely smoke free venue, which was why I want to try it!

Me: That sounds great. Sure, let’s try it! I’ll meet you at your house at 9 so we can carpool?

Lisa: Sounds like a plan.

 

Saturday evening Kelly put on some comfortable jeans, knee-high striped socks that she could push down if she got too hot, and a tan v-neck t-shirt with a thin brown sweater over the top. Layers are critical when you go out dancing in Michigan winters! She bundled up her long brown hair into four loose quadrants, then secured them to the crown of her head with elastic bands, so that she could dance freely without a care. Just before she left home, she opened the drawer to the right of the sink, pulled out a clear glass vial an inch in diameter, closed her eyes, and sprinkled glitter over the top of her head. It fell softly onto her shoulders, across her collarbone, and caught in her eyelashes, ever so slightly. There’s never a chance to wear glitter that gets missed by this grrrl!

Lisa greeted her at the door looking like she had just gotten home from work. “I can’t decide if I want to dress up a little, in case there are some eligible women there tonight, or just be comfortable,” Lisa explained. Kelly shrugged her shoulders, “Do both.” Lisa spent a few more minutes debating what to change into, and forgot to run a comb through her hair before putting on her eyeglasses and slipping on some comfortable shoes. Jeans and a long sleeve shirt it was then.

Kelly offered to drive, and Lisa navigated the car to downtown Ypsilanti. This town kind of has a reputation that precedes it. Although it is the next door neighbor to the affluent and highly educated Ann Arbor, it gets a bad rap as an area of poverty and high crime. Kelly had heard that there was actually a pretty up-and-coming art scene here, but somehow never made it there to check it out. Most of her friends live in or around Ann Arbor, and it’s the only place that anyone ever suggests for places to go.  Lisa’s house is in this no-man’s-land between the two towns, filled with strip malls of cell phone dealers, mattress stores, and a hidden pocket of co-op housing, built from former military barracks. It wasn’t rural, like Kelly’s home, but it wasn’t urban or suburban either. It just felt like you were lost in a grey area between two points on the map, with no tranquility and nothing to walk to, but conveniently located close to US-23, I-94, and two centers of employment.

As they drove down Washtenaw, the scenery changed from strip malls and fast food joints to a quaint and historic little downtown. They passed by the edge of Eastern Michigan’s campus, a surprisingly large university that gets dwarfed by U of M’s presence in Washtenaw county. Just across from the corner of campus, a ridiculously phallic-shaped water tower emerged with a wooden-shingled dome, dividing the 4-lane street into two boulevarded one ways. As their eastbound lanes curved right, it made room for a block of large historic homes that were now turned into student apartments.

Downtown was just a couple more blocks from campus, and looked much nicer than Kelly had imagined. There were three blocks decorated with matching acorn lampposts, like you would see in a Norman Rockwell painting, with intricate storefronts topped with apartments above. Each retail space was filled with some store or restaurant that you’ve never seen anywhere else. It held a very local charm, without a Starbucks in sight.

They found a free parking spot right out front on the main drag, and Kelly backed into the spot, waiting a minute for traffic to clear so she could open her door. She scurried to the sidewalk to wait for Lisa, turning herself around to take in all of her surroundings. She admired the diversity of the architecture, some modern, some ornate, with incredibly detailed stonework, and some simply old. “It’s really cute here,” she muttered aloud.

“I know, right? I was surprised the first time I came to Ypsi, too,” shared Lisa, “and Depot Town is equally nice. That’s where my office is, and it’s just a few more blocks that way,” she pointed in the direction of a bridge down the hill.

“And THIS,” Lisa turned to face the crosswalk, “is where we are going!” Across the street was a large glass storefront with a corner vestibule. It looked like a restaurant, and an empty one at that. Kelly was a little bit disappointed, but followed her friend out of the cold. “So, I think this place is actually downstairs,” she posited, scanning the abundance of signage and literature that filled the entryway, looking for confirmation of this mystical venue.

“Ah! There it is- Keystone Underground-  Martini Bar!” Inside the restaurant, where a hostess stand should have been, a sandwich board sign stood waist-high, directing them down an open stairwell into a much darker space. As they reached the last steps, a truly unique space emerged. It was a long, narrow room, divided in half by a brick wall punctuated by arched openings. It felt a lot like an eastern European wine cellar, cozy and warm, ancient yet secretive. The underground bar had a modern flare, the bar lit dimly with neon signs that reflected off the bright orange bartop. To the left, as they walked through one of the archways, more seating appeared, and a DJ booth was set up against the back wall, not quite ready for the dance floor.

Lisa spotted her friend, and walked over to greet her with a hug. She was a short, curvaceous woman, with spiky hair. One long sweep of bangs curled in front of her left ear and framed a gigantic, beaming smile. In an instant, Kelly could tell that she’s the kind of person who can warm an entire room with her smile, which squished her wide blue eyes into dark slivers as her big, rosy cheeks reached for the moon. They walked back over to Kelly, who stood frozen in the mostly empty void, unsure of what to do. “Kelly, this is my friend, Bethany. She’s the one who is organizing the Electronic Saturdays here tonight!” “Hey there! How’s it going?” Lisa’s chipper friend asked as she greeted Kelly, then excused herself to go hug another stranger. She must be a little bit older than herself, Kelly thought, but her energy was through the roof, as she watched this pint-sized tattooed figure bouncing through the room, checking in with the DJ on equipment setup, greeting other people who were starting to trickle in the door. There weren’t many other people at this bar, but Bethany seemed to know every single one of them.

The bar was relatively new, and it appeared that most people didn’t know it existed yet. Kelly decided to have a drink, since there wasn’t a big enough crowd to feel comfortable dancing in yet. She asked her friend for suggestions, and had no idea what actually got ordered. A golden martini arrived in front of her, and it was tasty, but not cheap. Certainly, one $10 drink would be enough for the night. “And this is why I don’t like to go out and drink,” she reminded herself. The two chatted about work stuff, and at some point Lisa’s friend came back by to visit more. She was trying to persuade them to get out on the dance floor, where a total of zero people were dancing. “Hmmm… maybe in a little bit,” Kelly politely responded, with a suspicious feeling that there would be no dancing tonight. It was already getting late, and she was stifling yawns instead of shaking her groove thing, which meant that she wouldn’t last too much longer.

The people watching was pretty good, although the place never really did pick up much. Eventually, since the sole purpose of coming out was to dance, Lisa did convince Kelly to get up for a couple of songs. Bethany joined them, and was a welcome added distraction, not that there was anyone there watching them. Not surprising, she was a very outgoing, extroverted dancer, smiling and laughing and cracking jokes with the two. It was enough to help Kelly to relax and have some fun. “Awwww, yeah! That’s my jam!” she hollered, kicking up her heels and throwing her elbows back with excitement. Both Lisa and Kelly laughed out loud, the only two introverts to be found, both equally astonished and entertained by Bethany’s exuberance.

The night turned out surprisingly well! They may not have spent hours dancing like Kelly had hoped for, but it felt really good to finally give in and get out there, even if they were the only ones dancing. Just before midnight, Corey thanked her new friend for helping them to break in the dance floor, and walked back upstairs to the street to turn into a pumpkin. “Perhaps she will be our new dancing buddy!” Kelly thought after dropping off Lisa and heading home. Cold car tires crunched over the gravel driveway. In the conifer-cloaked darkness, she quietly tiptoed through the front door, greeted by a cat along the way. She pulled her sweater over her head, sniffed it, and realized, “and I don’t smell like smoke!” When you factored in that sweet smell of success, Ypsilanti started to look like a great new option for dancing. And besides, Santa made an appearance at Keystone, and even swung around a steel column like a stripper, so, there’s always that to look forward to next time.

Update: The $10 martinis proved a bit too rich for Ypsi blood, at least circa 2009, so the venue no longer exists as Keystone Underground. Michigan passed a smoking ban that opened up all sorts of new smoke-free destinations soon after. But, that fateful night, during the brief period that Keystone Underground was in existence, Kelly met her soulmate. Kelly and Bethany rent the space they met at for their very own wedding reception when they got married two years later.