Gabriella's Anniversary

Happy AA birthday dear friend. I am grateful to know you.

Colleen Made Me Do It

Colleen at Mommy Always Wins made me do this one. OK, maybe not MADE me do it, but when you're going on your tenth, eighth, snow day in a row (I've actually lost count,) then you start looking for stuff to do. I'm not sure if being stuck inside with the kids has turned my brain to oatmeal yet, but I'm pretty sure my IQ has dropped ten or fifteen points. If this madness continues, I might take you on a tour of the basement. Plus, there is a contest going on with this challenge. Shall we?

Nothing too exciting here:

Dora seems to be a prevailing theme on this challenge:

Zero method of organization here:

Uh, whaa? What is this?
Why YES IT IS!! It's our Saviour, our Lord Jesus Christ! How did he get in here? Well, that's a funny story...

The first house that my husband and I bought in Appalachia was the estate of a man who had died the year prior. His kids were looking to unload the house quickly and by quickly I mean that they literally were not interested in having any more to do with it. It had sat on the market for a while and they wanted it gone. Not only did we get the house cheap, but we pretty much got everything in it as well. They were either too lazy or disinterested in moving their father's belongings out. So we got a house full of old man stuff, much of which had belonged to his long deceased wife.

This groovy Jesus pic was part of the deal. Sweet, eh? We typically have it hanging in our basement, but occasionally I feel that my husband needs some Jesus (stop laughing Gabi) and I will put this picture in random spots about the house for him to find. Once he finds it he will then hide it somewhere for me to happen upon. Sunday night I stuck it in his luggage expecting him to find it once he landed in Florida. Apparently he saw it while packing and moved it to the medicine cabinet in the hall for me to find. Adds a nice touch, no?
It's hard to top Jesus, so I'll move on to the shower, since my medicine cabinets are so boring. The black thing is Lush Coal Face facial cleaner. The BEST facial cleanser on the planet. I'm going straight to hell for saying that, too, because I work in a skin care clinic and we don't carry Lush products. It's a good thing I have Jesus. Moving on....See the metallic hockey puck thingies? That's shampoo.Conditioning shampoo for me and the kids:Dandruff shampoo for the husband:I purchase Lush products because they are handmade, natural, and are plastic free. Those were solid shampoos and this is the deodorant:
Another shampoo:Massage bar which I use as moisturizer:
My box of essential oils that I use for first aid, cleaning, air freshening, massage, and general well being:

Forgive me recovery community for the apparent lack of AA related content on this post. However, I'm sure Sarah is laughing her ass off right now. That's good for something, right?

Monday Bullets

• I decided to post in bullets today because I have been having flashbacks to the gang gun violence across the street from me last year.
• Gang/drug wars are not how they appear on TV.
• On TV they don't show the small children in the front yard watching the shootings take place.
• My children go to an inner city school where the vast majority of kids are impoverished.
• There is a look in the eyes of small children who have lost all hope.
• I have learned that it is very difficult to reestablish hopefulness in youth once they have lost it.
• I want to smack the holy hell out of pregnant women who smoke.
• Please don't comment on that one. I really don't want to hear it.
• I would rather be by myself than be in the company of people who drink.
• I know the Big Book talks about not having an axe to grind, I am just irritated by the propaganda that surrounds the alcohol industry.
• No one ever died because they didn't take a drink.
• Today was another snow delay day. I'm not lying when I say that I could blow the snow off my car with my own breath. Appalachia needs to quit acting like the world is coming to an end every time the freaking wind blows. No wonder we are so behind in education. Snow days are keeping everyone out of school.
• I celebrated my immense irritation at the school system by taking my four year old out for donuts.
• Nothing quite like stuffing your feelings, eh?
• I did some 12th Step work yesterday. You never know when that kind of stuff is going to go down.
• Every time school gets called off I think of the Little House on the Prairie books and how Laura and Mary dragged their sorry butts to school in three feet of snow and then had to study by the heat of a wood burning stove with one measly pencil and they had to share books, too. Now THAT'S learning!
• Can you tell I'm pissed?
• And I can honestly say that I'm not pissed because my personal day got interrupted. I am truly pissed that my kids' education is being shortchanged.
• I need to move to Maine. They don't call snow days up there.
• The crack houses across the street are soon to be demolished. I might set up a BBQ and have a block party to celebrate the end of the insanity on this street.
• Most of the neighbors on this street would like to pour gasoline on them and torch the houses themselves.
• I inwardly chuckle when I see the little drug dealing gang bangers cross the street and walk in the other direction when I pass them them with my German Shepherd.
• My thinking in real life is truly as erratic as my blog writing.
• I apologize if you're confused by this point.
• If you even stuck around this long.

Cat and Shadow

Thank you Cat and Shadow for the Lemonade award. You are both kind. I won't be passing this on to any one blogger in that if you are on my blogroll then I find you deserving. I love you all for your unique and insightful perspectives.

Seriously? Five Days?

Dear UPS,

Eleven days ago I ordered books from a company that I typically don't do business with. You are their shipment carrier. I can see from the tracking information on your site that the package has been held up in Cincinnati for five days. FIVE days, UPS. FIVE DAYS. I am aware that I opted for FREE SHIPPING which means that I will be waiting longer than the average bear for this order. But seriously, FIVE DAYS in Cincinnati?? I could have driven there myself and been back before dinner. Last I checked, Cincinnati, Ohio was still part of the lower 48 and not subject to customs protocol.

Here's the deal. My husband is away on another business trip for four days and I would really like to get into these books while he's gone. So let's hurry this up, shall we? This is beginning to screw with my serenity.

Sincerely,

Kristin H.

Still Shaking

I experienced a feeling this morning that I haven't felt in a very long time. While on my early morning walk with the dog, I was overcome with the sensations of dread and disorientation. Technically it was a glorious morning for me. Cold and clear with a perfect urban sunrise. But as I was walking through a neighborhood just short of downtown, I looked up to a house and saw a light on in an attic. I couldn't tell you what that light meant to me. It was just a light. Perhaps it was the color of light coming from the room. Maybe it was the energy in general coming from the house. But I was immediately overcome with that sick feeling of despondency that I would experience during my days of all night cocaine and meth benders.

For me there was no worse feeling than watching the sun come up after having been on an all night drug binge. Sleeplessness feels like hell. Literally. If I was to ever write a book in which hell was depicted, I would be certain to make all the inhabitants corpse like and sleepless.

I don't know what came over me this morning. I had a full night's sleep and a huge cup of coffee. I was in great spirits and full of energy. Then BAM! The sun on the horizon, coupled with the creepy energy of the house I passed, put me right back in that place that I swore I would never visit again. Who would have thought those feelings were still possible even after all these years?

For the remaining miles I had to talk myself back into reality.

"No, I am not high or coming off of any drugs."

"I am not hungover."

"I awoke to eight years of sobriety and I am not involved in any risky behaviour."

I'm still a little shaken.

Inquiring Minds Want To Know

Would somebody please tell me what this is all about. Seriously. Two bathtubs? And not even hooked up to any plumbing? And does anybody really take a bath like this? My husband says that they've got it all wrong. That if they just got in the same tub then erectile dysfunction drugs might not be necessary. Anyone?

Update: I awoke with some insight. My guess is this:

"Honey, I feel so close to you, but not, you know, connected (wink wink.) And, well, the "plumbing" hasn't been working so well lately. So maybe if we just stare off into this spectacular sunset, the pharmaceutical gods will smile upon us."

I'm Envious

I Love Studs

Seriously. I would give anything to keep the exposed beams in our investment property (what did you think I meant?) But since we live in the land of Butt Puckering Cold, the dry wall and insulation need to go up.

I was really bad about taking progress shots on our last reno, so I've made a commitment to do better with this property. The room with the exposed studs is a bedroom and the finished room is the master.

That '67 Ford out front belongs to my husband. To demonstrate just how much of an animal I am when it comes to home renovation, keep in mind that it is freezing outside and the exposed studs in the house leading to the roof mean that we can't keep the air inside over 45°. I worked for six hours straight today in those conditions. All I can say is that whoever rents this property better damn well keep it in decent condition.

You're Invited

Join me for Sunday Sober Chat at TSR Sunday night at 8:00 PM EST. All recovery, all the time hosted by yours truly.

You will need to take a minute to sign up if you don't already have a username. Then head on over to the chat room and take part in an online meeting.

See you there.

Why I Blog

I did not start blogging as a form of therapy.

I did not start blogging as a way to meet new people and make friends.

I did not start blogging to make a point, help people, be heard, process my life, stretch my writing legs or make money.

The one reason, the only reason, I started blogging and continue to blog is so that my children will have documentation of my life.

Recovery is a huge part of my life. Therefore, my blog will forever be heavy in recovery.

My blog is named for my dream business. I felt that seeing the name of my coffee house on my blog header each day would make my dream more real. It does.

There are many days that I think of turning off the comments because all I am really looking to do is chronicle my daily thoughts and experiences. However, I enjoy hearing what you have to say. So I leave the comments turned on.

Just not today.

::sigh::

This conversation is getting old:

Them (upon learning of my involvement in AA): "So you don't drink at all?"

Me: "No, I've been sober for (insert number) years."

Them (incredulous): "Wow. Not even beer and wine?"

Me: "No (you moron.) I don't drink alcohol at all."

Them: "So, like, you won't even have some wine with dinner?"

Me: (sigh) "I'm al-co-hol-ic. I can't have anything."

Them: "I have a brother who's alcoholic. He still drinks beer, though."

Me: (whatever)

Wordless Wednesday (or, How I Spent My Weekend)

Cincinnati Millenium Hotel AC/DC Five Way Skyline Chili

Completely Random Musings

• The first concert I ever went to sober was Ozzy Osbourne in 1995.
• My sponsor bought me tickets for my 1 year sobriety birthday.
• She was just that cool.
• I didn't start to feel comfortable in social situations until I was 5 years sober.
• I can go to any bar, restaurant, or party and have alcohol waved in front of my face and be fine.
• But to this day I still have difficulty at my own family gatherings back in California.
• I know now that it's because of my lingering resentment regarding my family's attitude toward alcohol.
• I won't attempt contact with people from high school because I don't want to relive every drunken episode of my teenage years. And they were all drunken episodes.
• I'm really pissed off right now because I have gone through three months of treatment for a toenail fungus infection and it didn't do a bit of good.
• The treatments involve liver level altering meds and three months of blood work.
• Damn.
• And no, tea tree oil is NOT working.
• My six year old is not happy about the fact that I'm letting my hair go gray.
• I said to her, "How would you like it if people didn't accept you for who you are?"
• She wasn't buying it.
• I saw Twilight the movie. Should I bother reading the book?
• Part of my resistance to going back to work full-time is knowing that I'll have to grocery shop during prime time with kids in tow.
• I've gotten really used to shopping at 10:00 AM on a weekday by myself.
• If I was going to be banished to a deserted island, my food of choice to bring would be a lifetime supply of Triscuits. They go with fish and vegetables and fruit (all indigenous to the island) and they are salty enough to add flavor to the food. Plus they are high in fiber and very filling.

Why does she do this?

I don't understand why she stands at the computer and stares at me.

Enchanted Entrance

Shortly before leaving California in 2001, my favorite metaphysical center and book shop was put up for sale. I was astonished that the owners were looking to unload this gem. In my eyes it was a haven of healing and mind expansion; a place of great peace and comfort during the early days of my recovery. Instead of leaving work and heading for the pub or the liquor store, I would stop at this center, housed within a Victorian style home in the downtown district of my town. I would wander the book aisles, reading titles that evoked feelings of expansiveness and growth. Ironic really, considering that I drank (or thought I drank) for all the same reasons. I believed that liquor unlocked a chamber in my mind that allowed me to relax into my being and think great thoughts. The reality is that mind expansion under the influence of alcohol lasted but a few drinks after which I became a foul mouthed slob with never enough to drink. And then the hangovers, always the hangovers.

But I digress.

The owners were planning a retirement in North Carolina and wished to sell the business as a whole-building, books, and all. I will not lie when for a brief moment I thought that marriage and a cross country move were not in the cards for me. As much as I loved my soon-to-be husband, I thought this was God talking. "Kriiiiiiiiistiiiiiiiiin! Buuuuuuuy thiiiiiiiiis buuuuusineeeeeeesssss!" I pondered it for a brief moment and then love won out. Thank God for that. My husband is super and I love him a great deal. But the dream of my own shop didn't die.

Fast forward three years and two kids later. I am now a licensed massage therapist living in Appalachia and pondering self employment. And get this: my husband thinks it's a good idea. He recognizes the need for financial stability in the family but can also see the potential of owning our own building in which I could run a business out of. Our credit is good enough to qualify us for loans on this venture but my confidence had taken a beating after the move and two children. While I was now four years sober and had accomplished more personally than I had ever thought possible, the reality was that my first pregnancy spun me out mentally and I was still dealing with the fallout of my mental health issues. I wasn't mentally fit enough to get through dinner and laundry let alone a small business venture.

But I could dream.

And dream was what I continued to do. I was realistic enough to recognize that a straight metaphysical center would not prosper in Appalachia. Forgive me if you are from this area, but the truth is that this region as a whole doesn't buy into the alternative philosophy that makes up that movement. And being the pragmatist that I am, I knew that a more practical venture would serve my purpose. Coffee and teas. Massage therapy upstairs. A place to purchase high quality botanicals and essential oils and herbs. Comfortable couches with newspapers and magazines strewn about. Local art. And occasionally, some live music or readings.

And as I continued to envision this perfect place in my still muddled mind, the name came to me: Jilli Java & The Garden of Eden. Named for my toddler and infant age children, I knew immediately that I had been divinely inspired. I had envisioned the inventory and had been inspired with a name and was now beginning to dream of the locale.

This region of the country is truly blessed with gorgeous real estate. Homes from the early 20th century can be found for rock bottom prices if one is willing to do some work. I was willing to do some work. The only thing that I asked for in this property was that it have multiple levels and enough space for an indoor botanical green house. But most importantly, I was looking for a certain kind of front door. I was adamant about finding a property that still had the original wood door with wrought iron handle. I knew in my mind's eye what I wanted. The door on the house that we were living in was almost identical to what I had envisioned, but I knew that it would be hard to find. A dark, heavy wood with a wrought iron handle worn by generations of hands.

And then we moved again.

Without going into great detail-life happened. Three years and now three houses later, life got busy. The kids have grown and still need me just as much as when they were infants. My husband's job takes him away on business constantly. We are without family help and must rely on each other for our child care needs; babysitters are not an option in these lean economic times. Jilli Java & The Garden of Eden was put on the back burner.

But the dream hasn't gone away. Lately I have found myself thinking about my shop more than ever. I will find myself wandering off in daydreams about my days behind the counter or in the botanical room, cutting lavender for a patron or stocking oils on a shelf. The sound of my girls running around upstairs or doing their homework while I work down below in the cafe. I will run across a picture on Google images that represents exactly how I want the interior of my shop to look. I can see my German Shepherd lying on a cushion by the fireplace, well socialized by the constant flow of customers who stoop to greet her. There are mornings that I wake from sleep, having dreamt my business into being.

It is those mornings that I feel most alive.

In the blink of an eye

Well, so much for domestic tranquility. Apparently I'm the meanest mom EVER. According to my kids, I am failing at parenthood on several levels.

Super.

A Life Of My Own Design

I awoke today to gray and dreary. First day back for the youngin's after what seemed like a dog's life in vacation days. Their vacations are extra long in that they attend a year round school and their summer break is cut dramatically. The four year old popped out of bed knowing that she will be reunited with her school chums within the hour. The six year old was pulled, literally, from her bed then propped in my arms until her sleep weary body could adjust to the rudeness of the early morning hour.

After the AM shuffle off to school, I returned home to shuffle off another creature to a week in Tennessee for business. He packed while I made turkey and egg bagels with avocado and baby Swiss cheese. Then I sat at my the kids' computer and reflected on the week to come.

I have more than my fair share of things to attend to this week. The rental house needs to be worked on in rapid speed to ensure an April move-in date for prospective tenants. The kids need to be enrolled in winter activities at the YMCA. I have made myself available for massage appointments while the kids are in school. In between and over and under all of this is the daily offering of clean, cook, launder, et al. I promised the husband that the dog will get walked. He has been attending to that task ever since I broke my foot. Foot is healed. Time to get reacquainted with the dog.

I look forward to the minutiae of my days. It is within the domestic minutes of my life that I can bear witness to my growth as a sober person. While some might cringe at my housewifelyness that from the outside appears subservient and lacking in any real flavor, I know that my life is one of great privilege and honor. Not because I am endowed with any royal titles or great estate. We are not financially rich. But it is a life carefully crafted out of sobriety and conscious awareness. I quite literally dreamed this life into being. Ten years ago I was the girl men would sleep with but not marry. Introduce to his friends but not his mother. Share beer with but not children. It was not the life I wanted and I was shown through various avenues that change was possible.

My days start in my head. Sometimes days in advance. Sometimes months. But they are always a conscious act of creation. In between, life happens. That is all part of co-creating with other humans. But the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous provides me with the tools to deal with all of that. On the whole, everything that I do and have in my life are things that I have asked for and created with my hard work in recovery. I am grateful for it all.

Things I need to work on from here out are being of service outside of my home, controlling my hair trigger temper, exercising more and eating less.

I'm off to cook dinner.

"...in all our affairs."

"Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs."[Big Book, page 60, line 3]

"...in all our affairs."

• At the grocery store
• At our children's school
• At work
• At home
• At the bank
• At the hair salon
• At a restaurant
• In traffic
• In church
• At the dog park
• At Target, Lowes, Walmart, CVS, Macy's...
• On vacation
• When having a bad day
• When having a good day
• Not just in our AA home group

"...in all our affairs."

39

Remember the shiny new laptop that I have gushed about over the last couple of months?

Evidently that laptop was meant for the kids. My husband often works from home and recognized the need for a second computer. He bought it and the kids took to it like white on rice. And so did I. That's why I claimed ownership of it. Because it was new. And shiny. And I liked sitting on the couch watching House Hunters and reading your blogs.

Well Happy 39th Birthday to me! Check this bad boy out:

This beautiful java colored baby is all Mama's! Next to my husband proposing to me on my 31st birthday, this is the most extravagant gift I have ever received.

In addition to this gorgeous item, my husband brought the girls to our local metaphysical shop and they bought me candles, sage, and a gift certificate to buy a piece of jewelry there that I've had my eye on.

Thank you my dear family. 39 is starting out with a bang.