Futuristic Tequila Sunrises in the Florida Keys.

Week #3

Three weeks gone by, dry!  Only 13 more to go (but who’s counting…haha! ) A large part of the challenge…the hypothetical futuristic events where my mind travels and wonders at how I will make it through sober!

The tee-totalling thing really hasn’t been so hard so far, since I have basically been cloistered in the house, in my pajamas.  We haven’t gone to any friends’ for dinner, or heaven forbid, to a party.  I dutifully avoided a birthday party for a local writer/confirmed alcoholic, and her younger French “artiste” husband.  (OK…I wasn’t invited…probably because at their last party I got drunk and groped the “artiste”…another story!).   They tend to drink wine by the bushels, and they run a B&B complete with a hot tub and saline swimming pool. ( Do you think I took my clothes off at their last party? ;0! (yes, Dear Reader, I just gave you a winking ” oh-my” emoticon)

No, we stayed home and watched old Downton Abby episodes.  Yes, this is how I am surviving the “bleaks” of January, without “spirits”, holed up watching British Drawing Room Drama.  I say, no one ever gets too loaded in Downton.  They are always nursing little thimbles of things…on screen, at least! (And there is no puking to speak of , but one does wonder at the purpose of all those random vases and vessels lurking a atop  the chiffonieres along the hallways.  Convenient for purging before you hit the smoking room.  Ever practical, those Brits.)

When I am not distracting myself with the lives of the landed gentry, than my mind sneaks over to the corner bar to figure how and when I am going to get my next drink!  I am definitely still in the privation stage.  Will it ever end?  Will I ever be a free woman again?  Not calculating my days and important events around whether there will be a cocktail present?  Speaking of the present, I seem to have a hard time hanging out here.  I think about all the landmines ahead.  How will I navigate  my cousin’s wedding, including seeing my father’s family, whom I haven’t seen in 20 years.  I scratched off the idea of taking  that “bucket list” trip to New Orleans.  Seems a genuine impossibility without hard liquor!  It’s in the pipes of that town!  ( I think they can officially throw you out of the French Quarter for not drinking!)

I am thinking of attending a conference in Florida in March.  ( I am so desperate for sun that Florida seems like Shangri-funkin-la!)  Holy Crap!  How can I not have a drink in the Florida Keys?  It  is, after all, the original “Margaritaville”, the Land of the Tequila Sunrise!  I mean, Key Largo and Ernest Hemingway – well, OK –  he might be an inspiration for me to stay sober!  This  is sounding too fun and too glamorous, I must go over to the “dark side”.

I must remember and relive some of the uglier moments of what it is to be drunk.  The tragic mistakes, the lives wasted, relationships lost, everything blurred, sticky, dishonest and distorted.  My drunken stories that I want to share serve as a witness, to laugh at my silly and raw nakedness (literally) and take a deep breath at accidents evaded, close calls and of all of the incredible amounts of vomit!

I think I might need some better coping tools..if I am to survive this winter and remain dry!  I heard (from a friend, of course…really…you believe me, right?) that at AA they say ” I am choosing to not drink...today.”  But then, your life becomes an endless cycle of todays.  The problem is – the “be here now” philosophy is also great for getting boozed up and not worrying about tomorrow!!!

The worm that broke the party animal’s back: Blotto at Christmas Party

Week # 2

So, the first two weeks are down without too many DT’s or sweating over socializing…basically because  I have been hibernating!!!

That is how tragically hungover I have been since the holiday festivities of 2012.  The “Aha moment” that forced me into this challenge happened because of little ole me’, the Booze Kitten, true to form, getting totally blotto on Christmas Eve….

   It was the night before Christmas and all through the house…

                                                                       the Jalapeno Margeritas was getting me soused!

The scene of the crime: Christmas Party

The Culprit: T-E-Q-U-I-L-A

I had finally been invited back to an acquaintance’s house for a Christmas party.  I say “finally” because I think a few prior invitations had passed me by, after I got totally bombed and then naked( a reoccurring theme, Dear Reader) at one of their summer parties.  But it was the holidays, and they must have felt forgiving-  and so there I was, promising myself I would be oh-so-good and oh-so-nice….until the second or third Margarita starting coursing through my veins.  The tequila in question had been home to many jalapenos, and one small worm who’s  fatty white body lived on after his soul had vanished into the ether of the alcohol ( an uncomfortable foreshadowing of what was going to be happening to me in only a few short hours!).

I was so proud of myself for not “mixing” that I convinced the host I needed more of the pure unadulterated  cactus to keep my merriment at full throttle.  He brought out a bottle so fancy I cant even remember its name, but it was slender,trendy, expensive, smooth and amnesia-inducing!  This is where it all goes south and gets kind of fuzzy.  With drinking, you’re always doing so well…until you aren’t.  It is the fine line that one swerves back and forth across.  I did manage to totally offend and piss off one of my friends’ husbands who had just done me a serious solid favor!  Then I did hump a down comforter very heartily.  I found it under the Christmas tree and for reasons still unknown to even myself,  I put it between my legs and rode it like a stallion…bumping and grinding until I the comforter and the damask pillow set became one in ecstasy.  One girlfriend looked at me and said..”hey that’s my Christmas present!”  I apologized so profusely that she finally offered resignedly  ” No Biggie – at least it’s wrapped in plastic.”  The rest of the night becomes a blur of cool agave proportions.  The kind of boozing that you don’t remember leaving the party …seriously blotto, but not naked anyway! (too cold!)

Well maybe this doesn’t qualify as spiritual, but by the Dawn’s Rosy light of Christmas Day, I awoke to peel down the covers and find myself fully clothed, my epiphany : I had drank way too much!

I turned my head made out of concrete to one side and pried open a crusty eyelid to my husband’s adorable smirk as he said “How are you feeling?”  Then like in Dorothy Parker’s short story “The Hangover” , he began to recount my latest sordid escapades, complete with my technicolor yawns and face plants as he tried to shepherd me home and into bed.  When he finally got me home I fell flat on the floor, refusing to move, then vomited into a pot, a real class act!  Then when my husband came in I pushed the pot towards him and indignantly said, “This is full of puke…It’s TERRIBLE!”  as if I had had nothing to do with it. Then, the next morning,  I asked him the proverbial question , “how bad was I?”  He says, ” oh do you remember when you told the story about making out with River Phoenix and five girls?”  I said “What? What do you mean five girls!”  He said, “No, you were telling the story to at least five girls.”  “Oh, okay.” I said.  After all, River Phoenix had  groped me at one of his concerts, and…well, it wasn’t exactly making out, but the tequila spirit was channeling!  The worst part of this, the worm that really got in poor Nelle’s apple, was that I had absolutely no recollection of any part of  me (not even the very drunk part) telling that story!  Now I know that to some of you professional drunks, I may seem like an amateur.  I usually have a vague inkling of what I am up to even when I am inebriated.  I am a Booze Kitten, not a Booze Zombie.  I like to think I have some elegance and poise…or do I?  (what is more elegant than puking in your hair…who needs product?)   If I start getting so ripped I can’t remember  what I am doing  how will I be able to  recount my shameful exploits?  You see my problemo…Enough is Enough!  Booze Kitten has got to change her evil ways, baby!

I put the pillow back over my head and groaned.  It was Christmas and and I had all kinds of $hit to do, including dinner with my in-laws and a 20lb turkey to roast.  I had the Mother-of -a-Hangover, my cheeks burnt red with shame…and guess what I was back on the Naughty-do-not-invite-to another-Party list again!  If I looked at my Facebook I would probably see a middle finger, where the thumbs up might have been, when I opened my email I fully expected to find a lump of coal in my inbox…..No Not Again…Never Again…the familiar remorseful mantra started up again…that old rusty saw…Never Again…Never Again…until guess what?    New Year’s Eve is next weekend!!!

The Challenge: rewire my brain to be able to drink in moderation in one year’s time

“New Year’s Day–Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.”

-Mark Twain

WEEK #1:

This is not your rum-of-the -mill sobriety blog!  I am not an alcoholic – I only drink socially…to excess!

That said, I also cannot control my drinking once I get started.  This Holiday season I drank beyond enjoyment.  I have gotten in so much trouble over the years (read on, Dear Reader), so much hilarious, ridiculous and even serious trouble with my bad buddy booze!  I want to gain control of the reins of the dark horses of drink.  I could just stop drinking, cold turkey, like everyone else on New Year Day.  Yet , I do not conquer this foe…he conquereth me!  I don’t want to go to every party for the rest of my life spending all of my energy NOT drinking!!!  I can’t stand the idea of salivating over every drop of champagne that I watch going down the gullet of my fellow revelers.  And like many folks, the idea of never having a drink again is so depressing that I can never imagine quitting in the first place!  And thus the cycle of drinking too much at parties, getting naked and/ or being obnoxious, throwing-up numerous times, passing out, waking up humiliated continues.

To just not imbibe any alcoholic beverage seems to be the drink of choice for most who need to cut the cord with the devil brew. I have done this for short periods of time – until some tragic, stressful or joyous occasion broke me down to drink again. My problem is  that I want to keep drinking!  I want to enjoy that glass of   good red wine as I look out over the Tuscan hillside, that cold beer as I come in sweating from the garden, that glass of bubbly that curls my mouth into the smile of a celebration.

Am I trying the impossible?  To tame a party animal who does not know when to quit…whom each drink seems to embolden her ferocious appetite…who doesn’t stop til she’s face down and the parties all gone home?  For me and alcohol, “nothing succeeds like excess”.

Right now the pathways in my brain are deeply ingrained to drink to excess.  After the second drink, the green light turns on and the whistle blows to PARTY til I drop.  I need to do some serious rerouting up in the old grey matter.  Some retraining of this party animal to jump through the hoop without it needing be lit on fire.  To have fun and enjoy a drink or two like someone on a croquet court.  Elegant and charming,  not face down in vomit!

The Challenge:  rewire my brain to be able to drink in moderation in one year’s time.

The Plan:

I will not drink any alcoholic beverages for 4 months.

The next four months I will only drink  1 alcoholic beverage per day (this sounds very hard!)

The last four months I will only drink 2 alcoholic beverages per day (is this the slippery slope?)

Dear Readers…(when I have some)  Am I insane to think I can tempt the impossible! Or is their a middle ground between AA and Blotto?
I feel like to just eliminate alcohol does nothing to address my problem.  It just removes it.
I want to gain control over this demon drink and not let it dictate how, when and where, I have fun.
But does booze by it’s very nature overtake our free will?  Oh philosophy…makes one want to drink…and since this is day seven of my first week of abstinence….I will do the next best thing and go to sleep!