Alcohol has become integrated with my life in a pretty significant way. It's in my family time with my sister. It's at my apartment with my boyfriend when I get home. It's on the bar and in the tanks at work. I think yoga is the only place that it is not at least present. So when an opportunity came up to get it out of my life for 21 days, I jumped at the chance.
I love bets. Especially when the stakes are high and the odds are against me.
Last Wednesday was no tv day so Jason and I were sitting on the couch splitting a 6 pack of good beer after he finished off the 12 pack of shitty beers and my friend sent me an update- "21 days sober!"
Jason proclaimed that was easy. But seeing as how he drinks more days than he does not, I said not so easy that he could do it. The slightly intoxicated retort I got back was that I couldn't do it between whiskey video game night, beer drinking music making, football, and my wine tasting job.
I love a challenge and seeing as how that same night he bet that I couldn't make hummus with an immersion blender, a bet I indeed won handily but might have just got tricked into making hummus, I delighted in the challenge
21 days no alcohol? Done.
I bet I would last longer than he would, a bet that I didn't want to wager our normal 6 pack of good beer or even a case. Seeing as how he was pretty mad for my accepting a free trip to Florida with a friend when we never take vacations, I set my sights on a plane ticket to see my best friend in Oregon. Seeing as how his best friend is in Oregon as well and we have never carved out the time or money to visit them, seemed like a wager that everyone would win. Well, everyone except the person paying for two plane tickets.
So day 7 is upon me without a drop of alcohol. My kitchen floor is scrubbed and my tiny apt seems much bigger without the army of dead soldiers on every surface. I took the recycling out and haven't filled up that corner of kitchen yet with the usual bottles and cans. Just one Gatorade bottle and some cardboard from pizza boxes.
The first few days were easy. I started waking up without a weird taste in my mouth. I drank tons of water and only had a twinge of regret when the filter was finished and I didn't get to taste our field blend red from 2013. I tried it last week. It is very good. My boss bottled it up and looked at me shocked when I turned down the sample and then immediately stared at my stomach looking for a baby bump. I told him about the bet and he still looked puzzled.
The hardest day was day 5. I would consider myself a moderate drinker, about 3 drinks in a day. I guess they call anything over one for a woman binge drinking. So I'm not sure exactly what I was going through on day 5 when I had the most splitting headache and slept for 14 hours. Felt like a gas leak or seasonal allergies. My head was pressurized and moving my eyes hurt.
I'm just going to say it was that brutal -15 degree cold that hit me. The dogs would pee really fast and we would both run back inside before they got frostbite on their paws. The wind whipped straight through the building and even with the baseboard heaters on high, I was still in a hat and coat with 4 blankets and quilts. The pipes froze for the drain and the hot water. I cooked a ham in my gas oven all day just to stave off the cold.
So I have two more weeks left. Lets see if I maintain this amount of elation for this exercise in self study. I like things that push me to think about different aspect of my life or to question why I do things. And right now I feel good. I do miss the calming effect of beer, but I have beefed up my arsenal of herbal teas and am trying new blends everyday. And this shows me that I could go nine months without neeeeding to drink when that time comes. I just won't hang out with my sister except for yoga.
I have a pit bull in my lap that's needy as a dog can be. I am recording every dollar I spend to really get serious about saving and tracking my spending patterns. And I'm still house shopping, checking out what neighborhoods look the best and trying to find where I belong. With no beer but some damn good tea so far 2014 is cold, but off to an exciting start
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Bloody teeth
I have recently taken up flossing again. It's an uncomfortable practice that I usually avoid, but as of late I have been really enjoying this new ritual of jamming some string between tooth and gum until it bleeds while examining the inner workings of my mouth and then later, running tongue against smooth teeth, newly redefined and tasting faintly of iron.
The dull throbbing in the back of my jaw rises like sonic vibrations, which I guess set into motion the idea that indeed, everyone only gets one body to care for in this life and we do with it what we like. Also, sitting next to my recluse grandfather with two teeth was a somewhat glaring reminder of what I don't want to become... In more ways than one.
I remember flossing to be a task resigned to the week before going to the dentist as a way to say honestly that I indeed have been flossing, of course for no specific duration of time. After the visit, the floss box was pushed further and further back in the bathroom drawer as much more important stuff took president, you know, like makeup and stuff.
I find that the possibility or I guess moreso the realization that old injuries so not magically heal but rather, slowly amble alongside of you for the rest of your life to be a horrific and life altering realization. If I would have known that falling out of that tree would have made my knee pop or falling at the skating rink decrease the flexibility of my wrist, would I have still taken the chance? Would I or should I have taken the whiplash settlement before the realization of the magnitude of spinal injuries set in to the full effect of ergonomic pillows, taking it "easy" or the threat of scar tissue removing surgery?
Perhaps my teeth decaying diet of coffee and red wine has me feeling a bit guilty for my poor pearly (off) whites. But maybe it's just a looming dentist visit in the near future that I have been avoiding for, um, I think ten years that has me a bit nervous.
All I know is the I jammed a waxed, mint flavored string up between each and every tooth, smiled in the mirror and reaffirmed silently as the tv blares from the neighbor downstairs that I only have life this time around. I think I'd enjoy it more with my teeth.
The dull throbbing in the back of my jaw rises like sonic vibrations, which I guess set into motion the idea that indeed, everyone only gets one body to care for in this life and we do with it what we like. Also, sitting next to my recluse grandfather with two teeth was a somewhat glaring reminder of what I don't want to become... In more ways than one.
I remember flossing to be a task resigned to the week before going to the dentist as a way to say honestly that I indeed have been flossing, of course for no specific duration of time. After the visit, the floss box was pushed further and further back in the bathroom drawer as much more important stuff took president, you know, like makeup and stuff.
I find that the possibility or I guess moreso the realization that old injuries so not magically heal but rather, slowly amble alongside of you for the rest of your life to be a horrific and life altering realization. If I would have known that falling out of that tree would have made my knee pop or falling at the skating rink decrease the flexibility of my wrist, would I have still taken the chance? Would I or should I have taken the whiplash settlement before the realization of the magnitude of spinal injuries set in to the full effect of ergonomic pillows, taking it "easy" or the threat of scar tissue removing surgery?
Perhaps my teeth decaying diet of coffee and red wine has me feeling a bit guilty for my poor pearly (off) whites. But maybe it's just a looming dentist visit in the near future that I have been avoiding for, um, I think ten years that has me a bit nervous.
All I know is the I jammed a waxed, mint flavored string up between each and every tooth, smiled in the mirror and reaffirmed silently as the tv blares from the neighbor downstairs that I only have life this time around. I think I'd enjoy it more with my teeth.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Headlines
Recently events in my life have been like news headlines. This first would be : 27 yr old man found dead in apartment after drug raid.
I didn't like when the new neighbor moved in to apartment A. He had an ankle bracelet and always sat outside his door, which is at the bottom of the steps leading up to my door, inconveniently for me. People stopped by and banged on his door constantly or there would be cars in the parking lot with people waiting for him. There was a handwritten sign that would get posted after a scuffle about how you must call first(usually spelled "kall") or he ain't answering the door. I pondered how much leverage you could actually have in these types of business transactions.
Unlucky for me, my work schedule often overlapped with his "work" schedule and many nights I would come home at midnight to a group of people sitting on the stairs to my door in varying states of mind.
There was that inherent tense feeling that females have in the knowledge of being the weaker sex. My friend gave me a gun when I first moved in but I never felt the need to use it. But suddenly I started target practicing and keeping it loaded by my bed. I got another gun to keep in my car, which is tricky because technically you aren't supposed to keep a loaded gun in your car, but then I thought about the logistics of getting out of my car, gun in the front seat and walking to the back if my car to grab the magazine and load the guy or maybe I should just get a concealed carry permit. I did find that leaving shotgun shells on my seat did alter how they approached me. I honestly just wanted left alone.
He had a habit of making disagreements with his lady very public by yelling matches in the parking lot late every night. Or once he punched some drunk guy out while the neighborhood watched in disbelief. He got a pit bull puppy a couple weeks ago and named it karma. Weird to see a tattooed up guy in thug gear yelling "karma, come here" as a puppy runs away from him.
Anyway, on Friday morning the cops came and pounded on his door using a variety of threats and appeals to try to coax him out. They threatened him with parole violation and getting bit by the drug dogs they were about to send in and seemed mildly annoyed at me trying to load up my car to head out to work that night. I would hate to be a cop in this city. He wasn't home so there was a bunch of cop cars constantly circling the block. Later that night I heard a thumping and clattering, but with super thin walls, you kinda just brush off everything as something you shouldn't be hearing.
The next morning a girl was histerically screaming as her friends scattered when the cops and ambulance came. Half hour later, the drug dogs were out, 13 more cop cars and the coroner was there.
It is a complete surreal feeling when something terrible happens to someone you didn't like. All the snippets of conversations get hashed out over and over and I wonder if I didn't give the kid a fair shake or if I could have done anything. Jason loved the guy and helped give his druggie friends rides places and just brushed off the people who would pound on the door downstairs and when that guy wouldn't answer would turn to Jason an ask if he had any weed.
Usually I'm good at mustering up at least niceties but with this guy I couldn't. It was too close to home, too uneasy. And I felt bad. I just wanted him to move or get arrested. I didn't think he would die.
The other headline is : fatal bus crash leaves 8 dead in Tennessee.
My mom called with news that my grandfather was on a church bus that blew a tire, jumped the median and smashed into a semi. His name wasn't on the list of life flighted survivors and only two people walked away without being hospitalized. At 95 years old, that likely wasn't him. A couple hours later it was confirmed that he didn't make it.
No talk of pulling plugs or what to do, that sort of finality is actually really nice to have, in spite of it being sad to lose someone. It's over. No nursing homes or wondering if today is the day. What a way to go.
So now I'm sitting in my now calm apartment, contemplating if I want to head down for a group funeral at a baptist church is North Carolina or when I should head to work despite no motivation.
With the browns already played Thursday night, I'm not sure what my weekend looks like. Probably a little meditation and a lot of sleep is in order. Rehydrating and recharging will be nice. I just need to get through these last two days of my work week an i will be set.
I didn't like when the new neighbor moved in to apartment A. He had an ankle bracelet and always sat outside his door, which is at the bottom of the steps leading up to my door, inconveniently for me. People stopped by and banged on his door constantly or there would be cars in the parking lot with people waiting for him. There was a handwritten sign that would get posted after a scuffle about how you must call first(usually spelled "kall") or he ain't answering the door. I pondered how much leverage you could actually have in these types of business transactions.
Unlucky for me, my work schedule often overlapped with his "work" schedule and many nights I would come home at midnight to a group of people sitting on the stairs to my door in varying states of mind.
There was that inherent tense feeling that females have in the knowledge of being the weaker sex. My friend gave me a gun when I first moved in but I never felt the need to use it. But suddenly I started target practicing and keeping it loaded by my bed. I got another gun to keep in my car, which is tricky because technically you aren't supposed to keep a loaded gun in your car, but then I thought about the logistics of getting out of my car, gun in the front seat and walking to the back if my car to grab the magazine and load the guy or maybe I should just get a concealed carry permit. I did find that leaving shotgun shells on my seat did alter how they approached me. I honestly just wanted left alone.
He had a habit of making disagreements with his lady very public by yelling matches in the parking lot late every night. Or once he punched some drunk guy out while the neighborhood watched in disbelief. He got a pit bull puppy a couple weeks ago and named it karma. Weird to see a tattooed up guy in thug gear yelling "karma, come here" as a puppy runs away from him.
Anyway, on Friday morning the cops came and pounded on his door using a variety of threats and appeals to try to coax him out. They threatened him with parole violation and getting bit by the drug dogs they were about to send in and seemed mildly annoyed at me trying to load up my car to head out to work that night. I would hate to be a cop in this city. He wasn't home so there was a bunch of cop cars constantly circling the block. Later that night I heard a thumping and clattering, but with super thin walls, you kinda just brush off everything as something you shouldn't be hearing.
The next morning a girl was histerically screaming as her friends scattered when the cops and ambulance came. Half hour later, the drug dogs were out, 13 more cop cars and the coroner was there.
It is a complete surreal feeling when something terrible happens to someone you didn't like. All the snippets of conversations get hashed out over and over and I wonder if I didn't give the kid a fair shake or if I could have done anything. Jason loved the guy and helped give his druggie friends rides places and just brushed off the people who would pound on the door downstairs and when that guy wouldn't answer would turn to Jason an ask if he had any weed.
Usually I'm good at mustering up at least niceties but with this guy I couldn't. It was too close to home, too uneasy. And I felt bad. I just wanted him to move or get arrested. I didn't think he would die.
The other headline is : fatal bus crash leaves 8 dead in Tennessee.
My mom called with news that my grandfather was on a church bus that blew a tire, jumped the median and smashed into a semi. His name wasn't on the list of life flighted survivors and only two people walked away without being hospitalized. At 95 years old, that likely wasn't him. A couple hours later it was confirmed that he didn't make it.
No talk of pulling plugs or what to do, that sort of finality is actually really nice to have, in spite of it being sad to lose someone. It's over. No nursing homes or wondering if today is the day. What a way to go.
So now I'm sitting in my now calm apartment, contemplating if I want to head down for a group funeral at a baptist church is North Carolina or when I should head to work despite no motivation.
With the browns already played Thursday night, I'm not sure what my weekend looks like. Probably a little meditation and a lot of sleep is in order. Rehydrating and recharging will be nice. I just need to get through these last two days of my work week an i will be set.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Bunk beads and beach hair
I'm slowly waking up, so sore from sleeping in a child's bunk bed at the beach house my family has rented for my cousins wedding in nc. I tried to stretch out after the 12 hour car ride and 2 hours playing in the waves, but that just ended with me hitting my head.
I figure its about time for a cup of tea and curling up on the front deck to listen to the ocean. The house is way too quiet for anyone else to be up or perhaps they were up two hours ago and have already ambled off to start their day.
Time for reflection, planning, cleaning and stretching my mind along with taking a bunch of naps. Vacation with a wedding break in the middle.
I figure its about time for a cup of tea and curling up on the front deck to listen to the ocean. The house is way too quiet for anyone else to be up or perhaps they were up two hours ago and have already ambled off to start their day.
Time for reflection, planning, cleaning and stretching my mind along with taking a bunch of naps. Vacation with a wedding break in the middle.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Peaches, drain cleaner, herb magazine, beer
It's Saturday night and I finally have stabilized the ship that is my work, my mistress of the sea that ebbs and flows with the pulling of many different unpredictable moons. I have set things in motion, pinned down specifics an even set steps in case of emergency so that I an now walk away and watch the gears turn without me. It's beautiful. Everything when working in perfect unison, hearing my phrases come from different voices is really set me back and made me happy.
I can walk away without being scared everything will fall apart.
I wake up not fearing what tragedy will happen today. Sooooo nice.
So on a busy-ish Saturday night, I sneak in and out just to make sure the musician is paid and the reservations are set for the following week and to give a refund for a tab not split right, and I refuge out to the vines to ponder their growth and fruit development. Then I take a dinner break, if you will to play some video games and decompress before stopping back at work to double check to make sure tragedy hasn't hit.
It didn't. So I say hello to some customers, sign off on time sheets, then make my way home.
This is all possible because -just so your fucking job- employee is no longer with us. It is beautiful. Waves of calm lap against this smooth sailing ship and it is soooooo much easier to keep decent employees in line without the invented crises I used to constantly cope with.
It's so easy, I almost feel numb. Like a bomb that went off and I'm just standing there with a ringing in my ears, not sure what to do next.
Um, I guess I don't have to fight anymore. I can just focus on selling wine. Weird.
I stop at the store on my way and while its early for me, not much is open after ten on a Saturday night. I wander around Walmart before cashing out with my peaches, drain cleaner, herb magazine, and beer and as I bag up my gems I ponder my not so crazy Saturday night. It seems to be a common thread in my life, the Saturday night Walmart trip where I look at the contents of my cart and the absolute necessity that has driven me to this store at this time and assess where I'm at in life. Once during one of these reveries when I trekked to the bowling green walmecca in mussed half sleeping hair and a giant sweater because my hungry cat wouldn't let me sleep, I found myself in line holding some veggie burgers and a giant bag of cat food prominently displaying a woman of my age in a sweater much similar to mine, smiling and nuzzling her cat. Bizarre mirror moments are often great times for frantic reassessments of ones life.
I didn't go home and nuzzle my cat, but it did make me think twice about the evil mind control those creatures can have on me.
Tonight it's drain cleaner so that I can actually take a shower without standing in water backing up the drains. The bottom of the shower really gets slick when soapy water takes forever to drain. And I'm still not entirely sure who my new apartment manager is. Two different, not entirely trustworthy people have come up to me saying its them. So I don't believe anyone and ill just do it myself.
After shopping for other shitty apartments, I have concluded I take the good with the bad and enjoy the cheapest place to live I can find and hopefully I will save up enough money to buy a house of my own soon. Another 6 months of diligent saving and I should have the $3,000 for a down payment diligent saving is the key phrase....
The guilt of using the super caustic chemical concoction is balanced out minorly by the guilty conscious purchase of a nice herbal magazine about foraging for wild healing herbs and the different ways lemons can be used for cleaning products. To be fair, I tried the hippie way or baking soda and vinegar and a plunger for quite awhile before resorting to the draino, which still hasn't proved its effectiveness yet.
My oven doesn't work anymore so I grabbed some peaches for a late night dinner snack. An some Sierra Nevada beer.
Holy crap. Peaches and beer should be best friends. They compliment each other greatly. The juicy, fuzzy flesh of a peach offsets a nice hoppy pale ale with the right amount of bitterness and sweetness I can't help myself.
So after about 3 peaches, one beer, and a can of ineffective draino, I think I can call this a pretty successful Saturday night.i actually have workers doing their job. I can plan ahead before my cat gets super annoyed and hungry. And I am super st peace in spite of my surroundings.
Balance is being achieved. Somewhere in between the fructose and alcohol, the draino and lemon cleaners. The girl nuzzling her cat and me, three cats later. The fluorescent lights of the megastore have turned into the cfls and street lights of this shitty apartment I can't seem to shake. And I guess maybe that's my reverie for the night. My work can function without me. My apt is in constant disrepair. But I still feel like in the grand scheme of things, I'm on the right track.
I can walk away without being scared everything will fall apart.
I wake up not fearing what tragedy will happen today. Sooooo nice.
So on a busy-ish Saturday night, I sneak in and out just to make sure the musician is paid and the reservations are set for the following week and to give a refund for a tab not split right, and I refuge out to the vines to ponder their growth and fruit development. Then I take a dinner break, if you will to play some video games and decompress before stopping back at work to double check to make sure tragedy hasn't hit.
It didn't. So I say hello to some customers, sign off on time sheets, then make my way home.
This is all possible because -just so your fucking job- employee is no longer with us. It is beautiful. Waves of calm lap against this smooth sailing ship and it is soooooo much easier to keep decent employees in line without the invented crises I used to constantly cope with.
It's so easy, I almost feel numb. Like a bomb that went off and I'm just standing there with a ringing in my ears, not sure what to do next.
Um, I guess I don't have to fight anymore. I can just focus on selling wine. Weird.
I stop at the store on my way and while its early for me, not much is open after ten on a Saturday night. I wander around Walmart before cashing out with my peaches, drain cleaner, herb magazine, and beer and as I bag up my gems I ponder my not so crazy Saturday night. It seems to be a common thread in my life, the Saturday night Walmart trip where I look at the contents of my cart and the absolute necessity that has driven me to this store at this time and assess where I'm at in life. Once during one of these reveries when I trekked to the bowling green walmecca in mussed half sleeping hair and a giant sweater because my hungry cat wouldn't let me sleep, I found myself in line holding some veggie burgers and a giant bag of cat food prominently displaying a woman of my age in a sweater much similar to mine, smiling and nuzzling her cat. Bizarre mirror moments are often great times for frantic reassessments of ones life.
I didn't go home and nuzzle my cat, but it did make me think twice about the evil mind control those creatures can have on me.
Tonight it's drain cleaner so that I can actually take a shower without standing in water backing up the drains. The bottom of the shower really gets slick when soapy water takes forever to drain. And I'm still not entirely sure who my new apartment manager is. Two different, not entirely trustworthy people have come up to me saying its them. So I don't believe anyone and ill just do it myself.
After shopping for other shitty apartments, I have concluded I take the good with the bad and enjoy the cheapest place to live I can find and hopefully I will save up enough money to buy a house of my own soon. Another 6 months of diligent saving and I should have the $3,000 for a down payment diligent saving is the key phrase....
The guilt of using the super caustic chemical concoction is balanced out minorly by the guilty conscious purchase of a nice herbal magazine about foraging for wild healing herbs and the different ways lemons can be used for cleaning products. To be fair, I tried the hippie way or baking soda and vinegar and a plunger for quite awhile before resorting to the draino, which still hasn't proved its effectiveness yet.
My oven doesn't work anymore so I grabbed some peaches for a late night dinner snack. An some Sierra Nevada beer.
Holy crap. Peaches and beer should be best friends. They compliment each other greatly. The juicy, fuzzy flesh of a peach offsets a nice hoppy pale ale with the right amount of bitterness and sweetness I can't help myself.
So after about 3 peaches, one beer, and a can of ineffective draino, I think I can call this a pretty successful Saturday night.i actually have workers doing their job. I can plan ahead before my cat gets super annoyed and hungry. And I am super st peace in spite of my surroundings.
Balance is being achieved. Somewhere in between the fructose and alcohol, the draino and lemon cleaners. The girl nuzzling her cat and me, three cats later. The fluorescent lights of the megastore have turned into the cfls and street lights of this shitty apartment I can't seem to shake. And I guess maybe that's my reverie for the night. My work can function without me. My apt is in constant disrepair. But I still feel like in the grand scheme of things, I'm on the right track.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Final round.
My new favorite thing in the morning is to lay sideways in bed and let my head hang off the side. You'd be surprised at how nice a little blood to the brain can be. Putting the head lower than the heart just feeds the gray matter and each breath I draw in tingles and invigorates me.
I look at my stucco bedroom wall upside down and contemplate where I am going to move to and who I give affection, time, attention, and love to. Neurons pumped high on oxygen fire off signals and twitches as a dog dreams beside me, breathing hard in the heat.
Final round of the auction block with the remainder of my sheep tomorrow and I'm trying not to think about anything. I am looking at a little apartment just north of here and wondering if I should go it alone or not. I wish the stucco walls would spell out the best answer, or maybe they are but it's not what I want or it's not easy. The robins sing a rather boring song, a dog in a crate whimpers from his full bladder. I contemplate hot coffee on a day that's already hot. And I think I might lose my job.
I guess it wouldn't be lost. It just wouldn't be mine anymore. I'd know where it is. I just wouldn't be there too.
The -just do your fucking job- guy is getting preferential treatment over me. When given three tasks and a raise, he has not come through with any of his tasks. But somehow that's turned into me being a bad manager. Not that he's lazy and evasive and doesn't listen to me.
I am spent. Coming off a 50+ hour work week, I halfway welcome just getting fired. I could sling coffee at a place up the street or be a case worker for schizophrenics. Somewhere that I could go to work and go home at the end of the day without having screaming phone calls where I try to fire people but I am not permitted.
I am wound super tight, working with a guy who freaked out on a customer so bad she complained via email to my boss and even though I wasn't there, it's my fault, not my disgruntles employee.
So now I hang my head off the side of my bed and think.
I need to move. My last apartment manager didn't fix anything. I don't have a key to one of my doors. My ceiling in my kitchen leaks when it rains but my drains don't actually drain. Minor annoyances in my mind. But now I have a new apt manager who has an affinity for parking lot parties and late night fireworks. I curl up on my couch as my dog crawls under neath me with that terrified of loud noises face.
I feel like the grumpy old woman in apt D but when the stairs are filled with people and beer cans I need to step over when I'm getting off a 12 hour shift, yes, I get pissy.
So no sheep. Job going to hell. Indecision abounds still. Whining dogs. Little sleep. Hot as hell. And packing yet again.
Yes. I will make coffee this morning. I will look at apartments in different neighborhoods and not think about it too much. I will dream of sheep and one day having a place of my own to keep them. I will walk the dogs, feed the cat and buy some strawberries to make jam with. I will put my head under my heart and feel the stress dissipate with every day off because fuck, it's my only day off this week. I need to go out and enjoy it.
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