Well I have a lot to say about various subjects. My usual random thoughts about nothing in particular, my random acts of ranting.
You are all too damn smart!! I was going to drag this treat on, things like, it’s black and sleek and shiny. Yada Yada, but NO, you’re all to fucking brilliant and guessed my 365 treat. It’s a black lab puppy. For Prim and Lou it’s an English Black Lab pup, to my mind much more handsome than an “American” lab. So, I’m crazy, I know. I’ll be getting up in the middle of the night to take her out. Well, I’m awake half the night anyway so that doesn’t matter. There’s no such thing as sleeping like a baby at 62, sorry ladies, it’s just a fact of life. I’ll be busy trying to keep her from nipping at ankles and chewing hands of little girls. I’ll be trying to keep Ralph the Dog (American) from crushing her in an attempt to use her as a ball. Hopefully I won’t be cleaning up too many messes, never have in the past, they’re really easily trained dogs. I know, what a crazy fucking thing to do at my age. Well by the time the dog is 12, I’ll be 74, we will both have slowed down by then and we can manage each other. She was born on May 28th (10 months sober for me) She’ll be picked up on the 25th or 26th of July, my one year soberversary is July 28.
Signs, signs everywhere there’s signs
Fuckin’ up the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign
What else could I do but send a deposit. Have thought about calling her Belle. But there are lots of Belle’s in the neighborhood. So she will probably be Olive ( you know Black olive, Ha Ha), or Stella ( want to open the door and yell Stella, Stella). I bet some of you don’t even know who Marlon Brando is!! Or Scarlet or Violet, though my kids and husband aren’t on board with that. She’ll keep me even more active than I already am. Good God, what was I thinking?
Speaking of husband #1, he will hit 30 days AF on June 18th. He’s not counting days, I am, sort of, for him. He’s not reading blogs, though I do have him reading Jason Vale’s book. He’s not sure how long he’ll continue, IF he’ll continue. But it’s been amazing since he quit. Our evenings are now ordinary and I love that. We watch TV, we drink tea, we take walks (these are limited because of my FUCKING foot issue.) We even went to dairy queen one night. We’re acting like regular people. It’s divine. He said he’s doing this to make me happy and he is. It also shows me how terribly awful much he’s still in love with me after all this time. I won’t ask him to continue, it’s his decision, but it’s nice. He says maybe he’ll do 30 on 30 off, maybe he’ll drink on vacation. Then he turns around and says how much better he feels emotionally and physically. Back and forth. Been there, haven’t we? But I’m proud of him. It’s probably 15 years since he’s had this many days sober.
This also involves husand #1 and a post Prim had over at takinganewpath.wordpress.com concerning wobbles. He was talking about drinking on vacation (End of August) and out of my mouth came the voice of a wolf. It was like I was Linda Blair in the Exorcist, I’m surprised my head didn’t rotate, wait, it did! I said, “maybe I’ll tell the kids (they’ll all coming with us the first week) I’m drinking on vacation and just do it then, that way when we get back I won’t drink cause I will have said it in front of them.” WTF, WTF, WTF. I was stunned, what was I saying, I knew and know better than to think I can ever drink again. Was it because I’m coming up on a big date, I’ve read lots of blog where people experience things like that, BUT NOT MEEEEE! I was mortified that I even voiced that idea and I dismissed it as quickly. Husband #1 didn’t react until I said WTF, then he said call Belle, email someone, panic in his eyes. It passed quickly, thank the Lord for that. But it happened. Just when I thought the wolf was dead and buried, his ghost was floating through my head. “Get the fuck out of there”, she said vehemently. Sorry for all the F words but I was pissed. This happened a couple of weeks ago and as quickly as it came, it passed. But I wanted you all to know that even though lots of my posts are euphoric doesn’t mean all of the in between is sunshine and roses. This sober stuff is still hard.
Fourth: Now back to my puppy. This is not her, but close enough. We go to take a look on the 21st, she’ll be 4 weeks old. Weigh in on names and if you have any brilliant suggestions. OK, collective AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.