April 3 - Something beginning with A

Happy Anniversary to me! I joined Instagram a year ago today.

Twenty

Valentine's Day fell on a Sunday 20 years ago. Restaurants tables were few and far between February 13, 1993, but my date and I managed to snag one after a short wait.

It was our first date. Who in the world has their first date on Valentine's Day weekend? All those other couples were looking dreamy-eyed at each other over candles and cassoulet, while he and I had typical first-date conversations: who's your favorite author, where did you grow up, how did you get sober? (I guess most folks don't share last-drunk stories on a first date. But since we met in AA, we probably did.)

He's my husband now, so I guess it all worked out. Heh.

We were in our 40s then. He'll be 70 later this year. Time flies when you're having fun.

Of course it's not all fun. I pout and throw things and threaten to run away when life gets to be too much for me. His style is to retreat and grow silent. But those times are few and far between, and as the years have passed, they have grown fewer and farther.

Or at least I like to think so.

He still surprises me, and we're both pretty astonished – given our relationship histories – that we're still together 20 years later. The first couple years were touch-and-go. The third and fourth years we did the long-distance thing between Ohio and West Virginia. And then, we sealed the deal. I sold my house, quit my job and in 1997 moved to the Middle of Nowhere.

Because we are who we are, we didn't get married until 2006, but we lived happily in sin all those years.

He likes to eat and I like to cook, so that works out. We both like to read, but he prefers books and I'd rather use the Nook. He's learned to love walking and I've moved way left of the salad fork. (As both of you know!) Politics is now one of our common, shared interests. He'll never embrace technology and gadgets the way I do, and I'll never appreciate classical music the way he does.

We complement each other nicely, though. In the next 20 years, I'd like for him to learn to cook and he'd like for me to divest myself of some yarn. I've serious doubts about either of those things happening. But it's something to work toward.

Together.

Twenty-one

When I was growing up, you had to be 21 to buy liquor. Turning 21 was a Big Deal, although certainly I'd consumed alcohol – beer, wine and the hard stuff – long before I reached the magic age of 21.

Today I'm turning 21 again. It's been that number of years since I had my last drink of alcohol. In this month of gratitude, my sobriety is what I'm most thankful for, and I pray it will always be so. You can read my story here.

I learned quickly in Alcoholics Anonymous that to ensure success I needed to find a sponsor, someone to guide me through the 12 steps, to challenge me when I needed to be challenged and to share her experience, strength and hope with me. I had two sponsors very early on before I met Carolyn, who was to be my guide, friend, mentor and sponsor for the next 18 years.

She was sober 35 years when she died almost six months ago. She frequently said she wanted to end her life as a sober woman, and she did that. She also passed from this world leaving a permanent mark of dignity, humor and serenity on those who miss her still, every single day.

I'd like to dedicate my 21st AA birthday to Carolyn.

If you happen to have a problem with alcohol, or even if you just think you might, it's worth your while to visit an open meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. Visit this web page to find local resources. You'll find understanding, empathy, peace and, most of all, hope in the rooms of AA.

I did. And for that I'm truly grateful.

Friday Quote Day

The bad news is time flies. The good news is you're the pilot. Michael Altshuler  Five years ago this morning, I got married. Again. You can read all about it at my old blog, if you like. If you've been hanging out with me for the last five years (and some of you have! Thank you!), then you already know the story. I came home from this week's little getaway (did you miss me?) to find a vase with five red roses in it, and a beautiful card, and I didn't give him anything. I feel like crap for not, but we usually don't, so I didn't think a thing about it while I was gone. He can be, um, trying, at times, but also can be very, very thoughtful. Time flew this week, and while I had good intentions – I packed running gear for my little trip – it was just too, too hot to even think about sweating on purpose. All you had to do was walk outside – heck all, you had to do was look outside  –and you were dripping. How do you Tarheels stand it!?! (You know who you are.) Food was out of my control, as well, but not too calorific: meatless lasagna one night, ground turkey tacos the next. I chose small servings and enjoyed every bite. However, after two good days here at home, two days off target has me wishing for a Monday – and a do-over – again. The good news is, there's another one coming up. Heh. We're having guests for the weekend, I hope they like tomatoes. And rain. 'Cause we're going to have plenty of both. I hope your weekend is a good one! Denise, I'm mailing your book today. I didn't have the opportunity to get to a post office the whole time I was gone. Thanks for being so understanding, and thanks, too, for playing. I always enjoy your comments.