Sometimes I feel like that toward Husband #1. I used to smoke, gave it up 33 years ago when I became pregnant with my first child. I’m a nasty reformed smoker. Can’t stand to be around smoke or smokers. It turns my stomach. Reformed smokers are the worst. That feeling is creeping into my reformed drinking self. Most of my friends have one, or none when it comes to wine so they’re not the issue. It’s Husband #1. I don’t want to be around him or talk to him when he’s drinking. It’s not like he gets falling down drunk, but he gets tipsy. He drinks from 4:30-6:30 then stops, but by then he’s put a good deal of alcohol down the hatch. It disgusts me. The feeling is starting to creep into my days and not just relegated to the witching hour when he imbibes. Not good. Not good at all. After 36 years of marriage and all the bullshit he put up with because of my drinking I need to be more understanding. But I can’t feel something I don’t feel or act like it’s nothing when it bothers the shit out of me! I’m shutting him out. Can’t help it. He says he’s quitting again next Thursday. Why that day you ask, he’s scheduled for a colonoscopy on Friday, couldn’t drink if he wanted to. Trying to think of a clever joke here but I don’t have the intestinal fortitude for one right now. We shall see what happens, if he can make it another 100 days, he wants to make me happy. It won’t work unless he wants it too. Wife versus Wolf. Stay tuned. How do you guys deal with that, the drinking, not the colon thingy? Any suggestions?
On a lighter note, had a great time in warm, wonderful Florida! Rode around in golf carts, soaked in salt water pool and did absofuckinglutely NOTHING, no dishes, no cooking, nothing for 4 days. It was heaven. I was pouring my friends glasses of wine one evening realizing I never thought I’d be able to do that without wanting some myself. But I don’t. I really hope this lasts. I wake up feeling great every day. Sure at my age I have some occasional back aches, but no fuzzy head, no dry mouth, no shame or regrets. SWEET! Had some issues flying home. Had to be diverted to Nashville for an hour but finally got home. I’m not a great flyer. Not a fan of take off. It takes every ounce of my strength to keep that plane in the air until we arrive safely. So I’m back to the cold and snow. I’d never been to Nashville, now I can say I have! Check that off my bucket list.
I’ve been watching The Great British Baking Show on a local public broadcast channel. Hey UK friends, that Paul piercing blue eyes Hollywood is one HOT baker. I know he’s no goody, goody and he cheated, but I gotta say he can come into my kitchen and judge my cookies anytime. Loved the show. Hope they broadcast the next few seasons. Our competitive shows here are awful, Cupcake wars and Donut Showdowns just aren’t as entertaining. A clerk at the local Whole Foods store asked me today if I watched the British show ( I was buying white chocolate, which must have given her the idea to ask). We then talked about the hot, sexy slightly pudgy judge, did I say hot and sexy in the pink and purple shirt. And such bedroom, Paul Newman eyes. YUMMY. How many cooking terms have sexual meanings, let’s see? Hot, steamy, yummy, smoking, broil, lip-smacking, got to stop now or I could get kicked off wordpress for being some perverted old grandma. You get the idea.
March 20th will mark 600 days. Un fucking believable. 600 days. I never thought I’d get past day 1. If I can do it so can you. Anything’s possible. Any time. No matter what your age. It’s never too late.