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Thirty Days plus Seven…

….Is the amount of time I have now abstained from alcohol.  The faerie dust has continued to be sprinkled upon me much to my delight.  While I don’t have any cravings or desires to drink so much that I end up in a sober cell or a hospital, I would have to say that the most delightful fact about my sobriety of the last month has been that the mere thought of alcohol hasn’t even garnered a supporting role.  The vino and sticky-floored bars and swank lounges with men wearing too much Acqui di Gio is barely an understudy.  Not that I have isolated myself socially – impossible for a gregarious raconteur; it is just that I am too busy planting seeds everywhere. Only occasionally have I thought about the merriment and the days of old.  Most of my time, thank God, is spent not in avoiding alcohol or trying not to think about it but being simply engaged in life.

I have so many projects spinning right now and things falling in my lap that one might think I had aspirations to run the world.  I am happily content with not even having time to think about it.  And when one’s life is in the process of morphing into a delicious 8-course meal, there is quite simply no need to escape from it with a swig of the bottle.  Grace has been extended to me as I crossed the bridge into sobriety.  I am not about to tweak that by flirting with the forbidden apple again.


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