Thursday, October 20, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
recovering heroin addict seeks sugar and BLTs
Of course bread and milk would be grouped together. Along with bacon. Bread, milk, and eggs are what everyone is supposed to eat. Except that eggs freak me out. I once cracked one that had blood in it. I still have nightmares about killing baby chickens. And for the bread, be sure to pick up rye. It looks the most angry, and it saves me the step of toasting it since it's already dark brown.
Lettuce and tomatoes for BLTs. And because those words both have so many nice, straight lines that I can draw over and over. And it reminds me of how we end our NA meetings, "We stand in a circle because we don't do lines anymore."
WHITE CHOCOLAtE and MAC NUT creamers for my decaf. My therapist recommends that I no longer drink regular, as I need to wean myself away from all chemically altering substances. And decaf is usually all they have at meetings.
Chocolate ice cream reminds me of when I was growing up. We had a dairy farm with some Jerseys. My cousin Dale would visit each summer and every Sunday, we'd make ice cream together so we'd have something sweet to finish the day off with after milking in the evening during the week. One summer, Dale's mom called to report that Dale wouldn't be able to visit and help out at the farm for the summer. Turns out that Dale was made a recent resident in a West Virgina prison for producing, selling, and using meth. Funny, I just thought he was an insomniac with poor dental hygiene.
Contrary to my doctor's recommendations, I started my detox from heroin at home. I ended up blacking out on a number of occasions while still apparently otherwise functioning, then fell into a coma for a week. My aunt brought me to a hospital where I was to finish out my detox while monitored and medicated as necessary. Due to my so-called carelessness prior to hospitalization, I still have seizures now and then. While my penmanship has always left much to be desired, I feel as if this may be the cause of what some may call "sociopath" handwriting. Whatevs, yo.
Finally, don't forget the VANNiLLA PudiNg MIX (INSTANT. At rehab, I was told to expect sugar cravings - this is one of the few things I remember. Since getting out last month, I've spent $482 at Yankee Candles. I have the entire candle collections of the Buttercream, Sugar Cookie, and Vanilla Sundae lines. Sometimes, I burn the candles and eat vanilla flavored sweets at home while watching "Golden Girls" - it's my guiltiest pleasure these days. Oh, and the VANNillA WAFFERS cannot be forgotten - my beagle Jethro and I share them after our evening walks.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
I met a genuinely happy person today
Seeing as I had not turned on my television in 4 or 5 months, I finally cancelled the non-cable-but-still-get-the-news-and-the-Simpsons-on-local-channels television portion of my U-Verse account. I think that takes off about $20 each month – that’s enough to buy 120 limes when they’re in season. Or 200 key limes when they are in season and on sale. While on hold with AT&T waiting to speak to a human, I marveled at the image of the spread of key lime pies my savings could produce. I wondered if they had key lime festivals in Florida – including best pie, Miss Key Lime, and best marinade with key limes cook-off.
When I pulled into the otherwise full strip center parking lot, I spotted an empty spot directly in front of the store. I was almost expecting to see a sign with my name on it. While I consider it a bothersome practice to circle around looking for a close-to-the-door spot, there seems to be something magical that happens between the consumer and the store when the consumer finds a close-to-the-door spot. It makes one feel welcome, expected. Like a neatly decorated place card at a dinner party given by a cherished friend.
When I got out of my vehicle, my eyes were immediately engaged with a set of frighteningly rhinestone-studded flip-flops, worn by a woman who was also wearing a displeased look on her face. I stepped inside, television unit thing in hand. It smelled like a combination of dog shit and new, cheap carpet. And there was some tapping – no rhythm, just random… but persistent – coming from a wall of the store. The rhinestone flip-flop woman then walked in. She had anger about her, so I stepped back – I figured something happened and her transaction had not been completed to her satisfaction. The noise from the wall kept making itself known. I stared at it in an effort to survey the happenings, in hopes of discovering the source.
There was a man in front of us sending Folgers coffee, paper towels, and some other items to someone in Pennsylvania. He spent about $40 to send what appeared to be about $38 worth of products. He knew the address and shared it with a conviction of someone who loves another – the recipient.
When he was done, the rhinestone flip-flop woman stepped forward – I tried to make eye contact with her to let her know that I understood that while she walked back into the store after I’d been waiting in line for a few minutes, she was probably wrapping up what she’d recently stepped out on. But she did not meet my eyes.
It was then my turn. I handed over my television device thing with power cord. Matt asked if I was returning an AT&T device – I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him for knowing, then said that I was, indeed, returning such device. There was something about this guy that just got to me - he seemed genuinely happy. I said to him, “You seem un… unusually happy to be at work. On a Saturday.” He smiled. I went on to add, “There's something... you seem to be smiling. Even when you’re not smiling.” He smiled even wider and said, “Well, I hope it’s contagious.” I assured him that it was.
When I pulled into the otherwise full strip center parking lot, I spotted an empty spot directly in front of the store. I was almost expecting to see a sign with my name on it. While I consider it a bothersome practice to circle around looking for a close-to-the-door spot, there seems to be something magical that happens between the consumer and the store when the consumer finds a close-to-the-door spot. It makes one feel welcome, expected. Like a neatly decorated place card at a dinner party given by a cherished friend.
When I got out of my vehicle, my eyes were immediately engaged with a set of frighteningly rhinestone-studded flip-flops, worn by a woman who was also wearing a displeased look on her face. I stepped inside, television unit thing in hand. It smelled like a combination of dog shit and new, cheap carpet. And there was some tapping – no rhythm, just random… but persistent – coming from a wall of the store. The rhinestone flip-flop woman then walked in. She had anger about her, so I stepped back – I figured something happened and her transaction had not been completed to her satisfaction. The noise from the wall kept making itself known. I stared at it in an effort to survey the happenings, in hopes of discovering the source.
There was a man in front of us sending Folgers coffee, paper towels, and some other items to someone in Pennsylvania. He spent about $40 to send what appeared to be about $38 worth of products. He knew the address and shared it with a conviction of someone who loves another – the recipient.
When he was done, the rhinestone flip-flop woman stepped forward – I tried to make eye contact with her to let her know that I understood that while she walked back into the store after I’d been waiting in line for a few minutes, she was probably wrapping up what she’d recently stepped out on. But she did not meet my eyes.
It was then my turn. I handed over my television device thing with power cord. Matt asked if I was returning an AT&T device – I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him for knowing, then said that I was, indeed, returning such device. There was something about this guy that just got to me - he seemed genuinely happy. I said to him, “You seem un… unusually happy to be at work. On a Saturday.” He smiled. I went on to add, “There's something... you seem to be smiling. Even when you’re not smiling.” He smiled even wider and said, “Well, I hope it’s contagious.” I assured him that it was.
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