PREFECT or PERFEKT??

WE ARE NOT PERFEKT

Some years ago I developed a hatred for the words: "Happy, Joyful, and Free". I thought, for several years...how much BS this is. When is the chaotic bedlam going to 'leave' me? Well, it did not happen overnight, but here is a TODAY example, of a brief return to my 'old life', and how God keeps changing, keeps molding me, to maybe one day becoming a better person:

Did I ever sleep good last night! Not sure why, but I will say this much (really not much!). There has been for several days--and nights--a troubling in my heart. (Get to the point, Steve.) Not quite a week ago, I offended someone--right here at this keyboard, right here on my blogroll. Now, I have been in Alcoholics Anonymous for a long enough time to know better, to know when I am pushing that envelope. So WHY? Why do I even 'go there'?

Well, it's that long story again, of Pride. Ego says to me, "You can fix the whole world. If only they would do as you think, and say what you believe, Steve." Well, that's never going to happen, ain't THAT the truth. (There is nothing more true than the truth.) And it's a good thing that ain't going to happen, because I am not God. Once in a while I must do that "Be still" thing. "Steve, be still......and know that HE is God, not you!" How beautiful, even close to momentary humility. Fancy that!

Well, being acquainted with our Twelve Steps, I knew there is one called Step NINE, you know, that one about "Made direct amends...wherever possible...." So, how is this going to happen, to make an amend to someone who probably will not even read my mail, or my blog? What do I do when all else fails? I turn to God for help. Actually, I work through a Guardian Angel, named Flex (for 'flexible'). And somehow, I found myself in church, and, kneeling there up front, I was alone, but not lonely. "God, please help me here, how am I going to 'fix' this?" And God said to me (yeah, right!! -g-) well, at least this is what I discerned, that God said, "Don't fret over this. Let ME handle it--and all will be well."

The next day I receive a communication from the person whose very soul I injured. Now I do not like to use the word 'overjoyed', but, needless to say, I was smiling as I read the note, I was happy that God had given me an opportunity to show that I was sincerely, oh, so sorry. And we shared a little of ourselves with each other (Emails), and I shed a couple tears. The tears were, yes, of happiness, but maybe not what I might have thought. They were for a greater understanding of how God works in our lives. The tears were for my being allowed a newer conception of our God-given program, which gives me a real and spiritual PLAN of action, and the powerful tools, which--if I use them--bring me back to that good life I know so well.

That is a life, beyond all expectation, beyond even belief--considering where it (my life) was 34 years ago. And so I'm again here to say (yeah, almost finished!) that if I really follow these steps, and work them, I can, I CAN, enjoy that life of freedom and happiness. That life which we are promised is right around the bend, for each of us, for ALL of us. Again, we are not perfect (I DO know how to spell it!), but we keep working at it, knowing we'll never BE there. And let's all try for Happiness, Joyful, and Free, today. I've found for me, that there can even be joy in adversity, but I guess that's another blog--blong.

A happy, joyful, and free Steve E.

PRAYER AND MEDITATION

Actually, this should be a category, with separate files spanning years, because I have produced many extraordinarily embarrassing events, before and during sobriety. This following I recalled yesterday afternoon. I'll give it a title:

"Prayer and Meditation"

During the years 1991-1995 I drove a passenger van for Transportation Disadvantaged in Naples, Florida. The company was called Community Transportation, or "CT". I kept with me, at all times, in my pocket, a compact digital VOICE recorder, for transcribing notes to myself, since I had so many thoughts during a work day, thoughts which would all but evaporate by the time I got home. Certainly I had no time to stop and write notes to myself.

This story concerns a trip during which my cargo of passengers were developmentally disabled adults. This group of five I knew so well, having transported them to and from work--daily--for four years. The "gang" loved to talk into my tiny voice recorder, and hear their very own words come back at them immediately after. I would perform as a pretend radio interviewer, and one or the other of the passengers would be the interviewee. It was great diversion! We had such a wonderful time of it, joking, laughing, and poking fun at each other.

I was so spiritually overcome with the happenings of the hour ride--the joy and happiness of my passengers, who often thought of themselves as 'less than'--I grabbed my small hand-held tape machine to record the memories of the moment, and said some of (for me) the most descriptive expressions of faith and love. I spoke softly, slowly, and directly to relatives who had long been buried. I spoke to many 'favorite' saints, to Mary, the Mother of God...and to Jesus. I advised each, of my gratitude for the many gifts in my life, especially this gift of sobriety. I asked God to bless my (d.d.) passengers, my wife, my children, my extended family, my dozen fellow drivers, their passengers, and my superiors at work. And I repeatedly praised God, for the peace and serenity He had given me, so that I might help those who still suffered from alcoholism, and whatever related illnesses. And I made a 'so' solemn promise to do better, to change, to seek His will in all matters, and I asked for help to carry out His work.

When finished, I tried to place the digital recorder back into my pocket. It would not fit, because the digital recorder was already IN my pocket--Not a laughing matter NOW! Holy S**T! It had been in my pocket the whole time. I said out real loud, "What the f*** am I holding in my hand?" It was then I realized and lived one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, before or since.

Earlier, I had inadvertently grabbed the two-way radio (company) microphone, and had been broadcasting my most SECRET, deepest, ultra-private thoughts out over the airways! EVERYTHING I'd said had been broadcast to the base office, overheard and recorded by the dispatcher, audited by my boss and all the office staff, and by ALL the drivers and ALL the passengers on ALL the buses that afternoon. Even the mechanics monitored our all-day dispatches, conversations, 10-4's, 10-100's, etc.

At the end of my shift, no one said a word about the incident. Everyone behaved normally toward me, so that I got to thinking, "Well, maybe I had not pressed the transmitting button. Maybe nobody heard a thing of my supposedly secret, yet very verbal, soul-thoughts."

Several days went by, and ya know, I had allowed myself to forget the whole episode. It came back, that same method I used for hiding everything in my old life, by denying it ever happened! Old behavior. Old Steve.

Then, one early morning, as we drivers were doing our pre-trip inspections, and collecting our manifests for the day, one driver--one of the few who had always been friendly towards me--approached and said, "What the hell was that all about, the other day? You were talking on the radio for a *long, long* time, and made no sense whatever. Everybody has been wondering...were you hallucinating? Were you DRUNK?" OMG, I've been sober 19 years, and he's asking ("accusing", of course VBG!) if I was drunk...help me here, God!

So ends the SECOND most embarrassing story of my life...Fifteen years later, I'm still all goose bumps, and blush, when I recall the incident of that afternoon in 1993. Thank God that since, I've made very few errors in judgement disturbing enough to make me think of a drink--in fact it has not happened even ONE TIME....today....YET! (3:08 AM)

THE HAND OF AA IS ALWAYS???

THE HOME GROUP

...or...
WHO'S SITTING NEXT TO YOU?

NOTE: Ever since reading this about twenty years ago, I look around the room at every AA meeting I attend, and search for one who reminds me of (the 'old') me; alone, forlorn, despondent, ready to drink, or die. And I introduce myself to him, then introduce him (sometimes 'her') to others I know. I have NEVER felt the worse for doing so...Steve E.

I know who you are. You are "X" who attends the 24-Hour Club where AAs meet, in ________, USA. I saw you there the other night at the eight-o'clock meeting. I don't know how long you've been sober, but I know you've been coming around for awhile because you spoke to a lot of people who knew you. I wasn't one of them. You don't know who I am.

I wandered in to your meeting place the other night, a stranger in a strange town. I got a cup of coffee, and sat down by myself. You didn't speak to me. Oh, you did see me...you glanced my way, but you didn't recognize me, so you quickly averted your eyes, and sought out a familiar face. I sat there through the meeting. It was OK, a slightly different format, but basically the same kind of meeting I go to at home.

The topic was gratitude. You and your friends spoke about how much AA means to you. You talked about the camaraderie in your meeting place. You said how much the people there had helped you when you first came through the door--how they extended the hand of friendship to make you feel welcome, and asked you to come back.

And I wondered, where had they gone, those nice people who made your entrance so welcome and so comfortable? You talked about how the newcomer is the life-blood of AA. I agree, but I didn't say so. In fact, I didn't share in your meeting. I signed my name in the book that was passed around, but the chairperson didn't refer to it. He only called on those people in the room who he knew.

So who am I? You don't know, because you didn't bother to find out. Although yours was a closed meeting, you didn't even ask if I belonged there. It might have been my first meeting. I could have been full of fear and distrust, knowing that AA wouldn't work any better than anything else I had tried, and I would have left convinced that I was right! I might have been suicidal, grasping at one last straw, hoping someone would reach out to pull me from the loathing and self-pity from which, by myself, I could find no escape. I might have been a student with a tape recorder in my pocket, assigned to write a paper on how AA works--someone who shouldn't have been permitted to sit there at all, but could have been directed to an open meeting to learn what I needed to know. Or, I could have been sent by the courts, wanting to know more, but afraid to ask.

It so happened that I was "none of the above". I was just an ordinary alcoholic with a few years of sober living in AA, who was traveling and was in need of a meeting. My only problem that night was that I'd been alone with my own mind too long. I just needed to touch base with my AA family.

I know from past experience that I could have walked into your meeting place, smiling, stuck out my hand to the first person I saw, and said, "Hi. My name is __________, I'm an alcoholic from ______." If I had felt like doing that, I would probably have been warmly welcomed. You would have asked me if I knew "old So-and So" from my state. Or you might have shared a part of your drunkalog that had occurred in my part of the country.

Why didn't I? I was hungry, lonely, and tired. The only thing missing was "angry". but three out of four isn't a good place for me to be. So I sat silently through your meeting, and when it was over I watched enviously as all of you gathered in small groups, talking to one another the same way we do in my home town.

You and some of your friends were planning a "meeting-after-the-meeting" at a nearby coffee shop. By this time I had been silent too long to reach out to you. I stopped by the bulletin board to read the notices there, kind of hanging around without being too noticeable, hoping you might ask if I wanted to join you....but you didn't.

As I walked slowly across the parking lot to my car with the out-of-state license plates, you looked my way again. Our eyes met briefly and I mustered a smile. Again, you looked away. I buckled my seat belt, started the car, and drove to the motel where I was staying.

As I lay in my bed waiting for sleep to come, I made a gratitude list. You were on it, along with your friends at the meeting place. I knew that you were there for me, and that I needed you far more than you needed me. I knew that if I needed help and had asked for it, you would have gladly given it. But I wondered...what if I hadn't even been able to ask?

I know who you are. Do you remember me?

Author unknown. Message passed on by: Steve E. dos 3/18/1974

THEN and NOW

Fly little bird,

Fly with the wind.
For if you don't
You have sinned.

For the wind is the law
And the law is just.
Whence the wind blows
You also must.

So, fly sweet bird,
Fly with the wind.
For, if you do not
You have surely sinned.
--Steve E.

THE PAST:

..."And I remembered the creeping horror of the interminable night, in which I slept for short spells and woke dripping with cold sweat and shaken with utter despair, to drink hastily from my bottle and mercifully pass out again."--BB p 224 (3rd Edition) or p 202 (4th Edition) "Women Suffer Too"

This was EXACTLY me!...for SO many weeks, months, years?

THE PRESENT:

"Abandon yourself to God as you understand God. Admit your faults to Him and to your fellows. Clear away the wreckage of your past. Give freely of what you find and join us."
BB p 164

Imagine how simple is our program, really! The Twelve Steps are compacted here into four short sentences. It's as if I am the 'tall ship', and those four sentences are the 'star to steer her by'...CHANGE! All is well. God is in charge. Trust Him! He does what I cannot do for myself. And I do what I CAN do for myself. Gratefulness! ..."and the greatest of these is--LOVE!"

THE FUTURE:

"Ummmm...Say Wha...???

THOSE LITTLE ROUND WHITE THINGS

ME 'N PILLS

Here is me. Age: three-quarters of a century; Sober: thirty-four years, in Alcoholics Anonymous. I am fairly serene, usually VERY happy, at peace with all I meet, overly enthusiastic about AA, and I am SO grateful to God, recognizing His gifts to me and to all of you, too. Why all this buildup? Please be patient, people! Not 'A Patient'...'Patience' patient...

For many years I've met, sponsored, dated, married, and otherwise dealt with people in differing stages of depression, and related 'issues' (hate that word!). Always have I known there were those of us who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, believing that many of them do recover IF they have the capacity to be honest (whatever THAT meant?). Well, I really thought that a lot of our 'depression' was an excuse for our disease, alcoholism, since --I reasoned--alcohol IS a depressant, right?

All these years, I alone, of all I knew (or so I thought!), admitted to none of the 'other' diseases which plague many of us. Yet, here was I, a pill-popper: ups, downs, and all-arounds, before, during, and after my breakfast (booze), lunch (booze), and dinner of huge burgers, fries, beer, and (booze). Looking back, I'm certain that doctors would have had a field day, IF I had let them get 'ahold' of me...but I was crafty, knowing that the first rule of medicine, "do not do anything you enjoy", was NOT going to be in my repertoire. ("Playbook", for you sports guys!) Not in THIS life.

To shorten this, I'll get to the point. This past March, Easter Saturday, I felt utterly betrayed by a dear friend. That very night I began crying. I didn't cry all the time, but I cried over anything, and everything. And boy, don't let me hear a sad story, or minor-key music--that would open the floodgates. I couldn't sleep, but maybe three or four hours per night, stopped eating, lost weight, and went to 3 or 4 AA meetings a day (twenty-five a week!). My wife said I was having a meltdown. (Actually, I don't know WHAT she thought.) Doctor said I might be having slight depression over my 2007 year of radiation, etc., etc., for prostate cancer and a couple other things. All who knew me agreed that a huge change had taken over my psyche. And people who cared--it seemed--were making excuses, reasons, for my unusual behavior. But only I--only I--knew the nut of the problem, and I wasn't 'talking'...no shrink for me, because, "All they know to do is WRITE on those little bits of pharmacy paper."

I felt 'accused' of being 'bad', because people would tell me I was way up, 'high', then way down 'low', and sobbing for no reason. My doctor (who knows me well, and understands alcoholism) suggested I see a shrink. I flatly refused. We argued. I won. Fear set in. They'd have to commit me...but first they'd have to find me--I'd just received in the mail my first ever 'genewine U.S. Guv'mint passport'! Africa, here I come!

It turned out that my doctor finally agreed something needed doing, so he prescribed a minimal daily anti-depressant, Lexapro 10mg, which I take religiously...and regularly -grin. Everything seemed to me then, to be OK. However, people close to me kept saying that I was still too happy! Well, I've been a happy sort of guy (happy-go-lucky, that is) most of my sober life, so I was not disturbed about 'happy'. SADNESS would shake me, because I've never been accustomed to that emotion.

Anyway, I just thought it was time to let y'all know that, as happy, serene, peaceful, as I am, I have also 'been there', but for only for a short time--and it is under control. I do not cry any more. Thank God, I do not harbor that old stinking thinking, e.g., "Gosh if ONE is good...TWO might be better!" Also, thank God they have medications now which do not render us helpless vegetables, what I call 'vegetarians'...Oh God!, I just lost two of the three readers of this blog! --BIG grin. Something tells me it's time to STOP--HERE!--NOW!

Love,
Steve E.

I'll sit back now and read the 'joke-for-the-day'...WHO wrote yesterday about the blind guy in the restaurant??? Whooopeee! "Yep, just one pill per day, doc."

DO-IT to BE-IT

TO BE--OR TO DO?

Who would have thought that simply 'BEING' would demand so much 'DOING'?

Ya know, I thought that 'BEING' trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent and 'BEING' serene, being at peace, being tender and loving--well, I figured these were all attributes of us 'human beings', attributes which I AM. NOT SO!

To be a truly sober and happy human being, I have to work at all these things and continuously grow along spiritual lines. Does that mean I must be a human 'DOING'? Well,, yes. For me to really BE, I must (WARNING, four-letter word ahead!) DOIT. I must work the Twelve Steps, sponsor men, participate in groups and meetings, set up chairs, volunteer to speak, drink coffee, oops--I mean MAKE coffee!--and allow a sponsor to help me put some balance in my life--and did I forget, practice those Twelve Steps in everything I do.

A speaker three days ago said that he wanted to cut back on his drinking, then found the miracle, cocaine...and so at long last he established balance in his life. He used to start the morning with alcohol, and then finish his day with cocaine. Now THAT THERE is real 'high-wired' balance! -grin-

So many of us human beings suffer for such a long time after we begin to practice these principles in all our affairs (not illicit ones!). For me, after fifteen years of staying sober in Alcoholics Anonymous, I finally found the God of my understanding. He was with me all the time. I only had to look deep down within myself, and there He was! Big Book, pg 55, par. 3..."In the last analysis it is ONLY there that He may be found." (Caps are mine)

And I believe He is within EACH of us, every human being. With Him being so close within me, why oh why do I still suffer? Lack of faith? No, I certainly believe--by now. Maybe though, an occasional lack of TRUST...ahhhh! I'm still not 100% trusting--that He will do for me what is best, always. There is that lingering thought that maybe I yet can take over and run the show..."AS STEVE SEES IT".

So, I believe God is within everyone. So, I must love that part of everyone wherein I see Him, even when I sometimes cannot recognize Him there. And so, I love you ALL, not really because I must, but because I WANT to! And am I having FUN! Ask anyone around here! In fact, I find that some of us are uncomfortable when we see someone who really, REALLY insists on enjoying life.
Steve E.

STORMY SPIRITUALITY

A 'STORMY' SPIRITUAL STORY

A couple mornings ago, Tropical Storm Fay made landfall about 10 miles south of Naples. She mightily blew and copiously wet our whole area with 8"-10'' of driving, sheeting, pelting rain in as many hours, so temporary street and yard flooding was rampant. But this is not about Fay. This is about Alcoholics Anonymous, right? And recovery. Right? Yesss!

Our wonderful 24-Hour Club in Naples closes at 11 PM, and opens at 5 AM--I know this because I'm there shortly after, for the 6 AM meeting. Imagine what some of my normal friends would think if I told them we meet at 6 AM and talk about tolerance, patience, faith, hope, LOVE, and 'spiritual lines'. They might well think it's a new brand of Cocaine I'm using!

Because of T.S. Fay we lost power at the club, and the dozen or so daily meetings either were canceled or we just sat around outside. This B.Y.O.Coffee thing went on for two days before power restoration. The groups which did come together met alfresco on the 'smokers' porch. One afternoon I attended a 5:30 PM meeting, and--as we all can say at certain times--"it was one of the best meetings EVER." The topic was "Change", since this was a 'big change' to meet without coffee pots, air conditioning, toilets, tables, books, etc. Some of these guys are old like me, though ALL the girls are young (and stay pretty, y'all--now, who says that?).

Many of the fifty of us spoke in turn, concerning the changes in our lives, whether we had been six months, or forty years sober. I heard of countless reconciliations of partners and friends. I heard how families had come together, how long-owed debts were paid off, and how many a life had been turned around, thanks to our Twelve Steps, our inspired program for living and giving, our fellowship, and our helpfulness and love for one another. Near the end of the hour, it occurred to me that NO one outside of our fellowship, would EVER believe that fifty recovering alcoholics had been sitting around in the Florida late-afternoon heat, discussing for an hour such lofty words as described in paragraph two, above....and that not ONE PERSON mentioned, or probably even THOUGHT of--ALCOHOL! What a stupendous testament to the nature of our God-given way of life. I, and others, were overwhelmed at the profundity of the hour just quickly passed, and the porch overhang resounded with the Lord's Prayer.

Want another spiritual happening? Here it is: without word nor hint, I realized that not ONE person lit up their Lucky Strikes during this hour, although we WERE in the 'Smoker's Area' outside the building. How is THAT for Higher Power action?

May the God in each of us, bless the God in each other today, and may I be with you all in that blessing.

Love,
Steve E.

SADDEST DAY OF MY LIFE

STEVE THE "HERMIT"

STAR DATE 1966
PART THREE, FINAL EPISODE

In order to keep away the mosquitos during my stay on 'my island', I had arranged to have the Marco Island spray plane fly the eight or so miles south, to spray me every day. It only cost two quarts of Bacardi Rum, for Martin, the pilot, to agree to this--(see, I even do my bartering with booze!).

Each day, about 8 AM, the old Air Force C-47 made several passes so low, as to raise beach sand everywhere. Martin sprayed that wonderful stuff onto everything. I'd open my mouth to maybe catch some of it. A few months after, that Cuban pilot died in a fiery crash, driving that same aircraft. The Mackle Brothers, developers of Marco Island, paid lots of bucks, for my comfort.

The above paragraph sets up this next bit, the SADDEST DAY OF MY WHOLE LIFE. I can cry even now, remembering the horror of it all. Any true, 'real' alcoholic might identify with me, and KNOW me, know my ache, my hurt, my anguish, by reading this short story:

Two of my friends, both pilots, flew their two small Cessna down to entertain me with their aerobatics about three days before I was to vacate the island. I had run out of ALL alcohol (and cigarettes!), was still walking in pain, and figured they would magically, automatically 'know' my sorry predicament.

The two planes flew SO low, that I could see my wife and daughter in one of them--so then I was CERTAIN that my lack of supplies would be alleviated, since we always had a 'working telepathy'. I stood in one spot, waiting for the drop of my C.A.R.E. package...and fifteen long minutes later, when I finally figured they were playing that 'waiting' game, they flew away--out of my life--forever? Who would know? I knew true HATRED that day! POOR ME--and I MEAN THAT, even now. (Ha! I just peeled off a long-buried, long-hidden, powerful resentment. And I'll take care of it right away!)...........

SO began the Unhappiest day of my whole life--no booze, no smokes, and that equaled NO NOTHING. I did not pray, for fear that I would curse God Himself for this calamity. (They could have at LEAST dropped some Bandages -grin-)

On one slow, painful limp around the island I found a sand-buried Jack Daniels (Black Label!) bottle, and it was about half (empty, or full?). Immediately, I pulled out the cork and proceeded to guzzle--UGHHHHHHH! THHHHHPT! OMG, someone had used it for their specimen, it was all pee. I washed my mouth out with salty sea water, and even drank a little of the brine. I can tell you that God was not taking care of ME that day. (Or maybe He WAS?)

I cried often during the remaining really cool nights, and sun-blistering days. The world as I knew it had ended. Friends and family had forsaken me, I blamed EVERYONE ELSE for my predicament. My mantra: WOE IS ME! REALLY! I was ready to DO it, but was chicken-shit to end my life, because --get this--my FEET hurt too much! I'm living today, because God allowed me to 'cavort' barefoot back-and-forth--unknowingly--through an under-water oyster bar, and spend the next eight days with bloody, infected feet!.

And yet, I spent the next EIGHT YEARS perfecting my drinking habit. I became a 'functioning' drunk. For that, I needed a daily, hefty amount of maintenance alcohol. God, since then, has allowed me to learn and use the Twelve Steps He gave us, and to stay sober since March 18, 1974. I never looked back as far as drinking again--for me. It just has not happened. Expressing my gratitude to God, and you AA people, is what I live for today.

Oh yes, the fishing guide, Joseph, DID arrive as scheduled to pick me up. We enjoyed an EXTREMELY quiet ride back to civilization.

Steve E. (A Hermit--NOT!)

THE DROG -- PART TWO

STEVE THE "HERMIT"
STAR DATE 1966
PART TWO

Guess this could be called a DROG, my own word for "DRunk-Log"?

The BEETLES sang it best:

"Yesterday.......
...all my troubles seemed so far away,
...as I returned from comatose;
...and I began to breathe again."

As I slept the sleep only known by the drugged, my tent was blowing around--like the stuff outside is right now, in T.S. FAY--and there I lay, fairly oblivious to nature's godly powerful forces all about. I was awakened from this deep, deep drunken stupor--into which I had poured myself--by terribly frightening (to me) noises of growling, crying, and hissing sounds VERY close by. When my eyes began to focus, I saw this MONSTER, this horribly ugly head, about the size of a football, mouth wide open, snorting, snarling, and...and, what? of all things...CRYING! I was lying there on the tent floor, looking into the gaping mouth of a--seemingly--giant sea turtle, a real live nesting-straining-and-egg-laying Loggerhead!

A week later I was told that she likely did her nesting every YEAR on the very spot I had carefully (Ha!) chosen to erect (Ha!) my tent.. (Sorry for the "Ha's", they express better than ever I could). So, I did what ANY normal, sane human would do in this scary situation--reach beside me for my bottle of Early Times 86 proof! What else? After a few swigs from my bottle, I might better deal with these events. The turtle kept on huffing and puffing, as if I was not there. Finally, she left, dragging her hefty body over the few feet of remaining sandy beach, to water's edge.

That turtle must have been thinking..."I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky...." --from: SEA FEVER, by John Masefield

Again safe, hurting (in real pain: bottoms of my feet shredded and bloody, now becoming infected), weary mentally and physically--called 'bone tired'--I "made a decision" to put some calories into my body, and so I opened a couple beers, and chased down each swallow of the Golden Brew with my favorite 'wonder drug' of the moment, vodka.

Please note that my answer to ANY question, ANY situation, ANY happening, ANY prayer event...was to become annihilated with my drug, alcohol. It was my answer for anything and everything. Alcohol had become my GOD. Drinking had become my way of life, the only life I would know--for eight more years.

This ten-day period of my life needs ONE MORE Blog to complete.--it just became much too lengthy to finish today. Hope you will be back Thursday, for the finale! Its Title: MY DEPRESSION: The Saddest Day of My Life, and it's not too lengthy -grin-
Steve E.

FAY! DER STURM!

NOTE: This is #2 posting today. You might find the one below more interesting.

TUESDAY--A GOOD DAY TO STAY IN
AND PRACTICE YOUR VIOLIN!

By tonight, it'll be "all over 'cetp the wipin' (cleaning up the debris--don't pronounce the "s" in 'debris', OK? I always DO!), but for now, we're being hit with those SHEETS of rain which seem unending--and the power keeps wanting to quit, it's in the on-off-on-off stage. Went out to get the paper--it was there, all right. Ha! Right now it's hanging around the house, drying. What the h***, I don't read it anymore-anyhow -grin- well, except for the FUNNY? sheet (another 'sheet'!) One minute out there, and BOY, am I soaking wet. Note to self: If ya wanna weigh a few pounds more at the doctor's office(?), go there WET...real WET!

While all my clothes are in the dryer, I'm gonna go ahead and post this BEFORE the power leaves. That's a new experience for me, to do something BEFORE something else happens -grin-...(ahem, an announcement): The power is still on, but COMCAST decided y'all do NOT need to read my special wit, humor, unique experiences, etc., etc. -BIG grin- at this time. Later, maybe?

Sincerely, I thank you for all your messages of concern, care, and love. This is turning out to be SOME storm! More than I had anticipated, anyway. Thank You, God, we need the rain.
God LOVES you all! And I love you all!
Steve E.