...and even dance the Macarena, yes, all without one sniglet of alcohol entering our bodies.  Amazing isn't it?

After living in Alaska for eleven years, do you want to know what the most common question I am still asked?  Can you believe it's whether I lived in an igloo?  They are dead serious too.  And, 'they' are over 9 years old.  They are well over 18 for that matter.

When I was writing a political piece recently, I wanted my dear friend Tim4Change to review it because it had some bits about the insurance industry which he is mad smart about.  It was a persuasive political action piece intended for mass consumption, as broad an audience as possible, not for Open Salon.  He reminded me, to keep it simple and write at a 5th grade reading level if I wanted it to be heard and retained.  I knew this to be true, but I didn't know this to be true.  You know?

So, what does all this have to do with a recovering alcoholic being able to frequent a bar you might ask?  Well, I tell you, nothing - directly anyway.  It is just how my silly little mind works sometimes.  Okay, often.  It just fascinates me how misleading labels can be. 

Alaska = igloo

Politics = educated 

Alcoholic = no more fun, going to lie down and die, can't ever invite them anywhere again!

Who wrote these damn rules?

When I find them, I am going to buy them several rounds of shots, get them good and drunk (hey, experience has to be good for something), and show them the time of their ever frickin' lives.  If you see them, will you let me know?

Since I quit drinking, almost nine years ago now, the thought of having a drink while at a bar crossed my mind once.  This happened when I was with my husband on a cool, sunny autumn day in my first year of recovery. We were sitting out on the deck of a favorite restaurant in Anchorage, Alaska while he enjoyed a favorite beer of ours. 

Yes, in that moment, it was ours.  It was as much ours as our home, our car, our marital status.   I deserved that beer!  Look at everyone else sitting around, having worked a hard day in the yard, or walked their dogs on the Coastal Trail, or made the long reach down to cut those hard-to-reach toe nails;  they were all partaking, why shouldn't I?  Plus, let's not forget, this was the beer I introduced to my husband, the ultimate nutty nut brown ale.  Its beautiful amber color glimmered magically at me, whispering something sweetly kinky in my ear. How dare they enjoy a friendship without me!  Hadn't we always been a threesome?  

Just as I was about to come out of my skin, a "friend" walked out on the deck and interrupted my solicitous dance.  He was a new acquaintance I only knew by first name.  We had met in a room of some overrun strip mall where we sat around talking about how the first, little innocent sippy poo led to nights where I took a swing at a waiter for refusing to serve me (which could have led to assault charges.  Oops.)   He just smiled and waved and I returned the gesture.  When my attention returned to my yummy friend, the beer didn't look so glamorous anymore.  It suddenly looked very much like an adult beverage. While my husband looked old enough to be drinking it, I looked down and saw the hands of the thirteen year old girl who became alcoholic with her first sip.

Fast forward eight plus years later and I can recount dozens of concerts, a few political affairs, countless business meetings, engagement parties, and too many simple evenings out to name where alcohol was on the sidelines.  It may be a headliner for others, but for me, I simply don't even notice any more.  On the rare instance the event or people I am with begin to get a bit, ahem, floozy, I do this really amazing thing...I just leave.  

Extra special tip:  if you get invited to an alcoholic-'n-recovery's party, COME!  Since we can't drink, we like food.  We like it a lot.  And, we are really, really, really good at cooking it up to share with you.  Trust me; I've been to many of these 'type' parties and even thrown a few.  Yes, we're a crazy cult I tell you, dying to inculcate you with our nummies.

So, I simply can not speak for other alcoholics in recovery, or people who quit drinking, but I can speak for me.  Just ask - don't assume.   We don't have an infectious, viral disease you need to whisper while saying sideways out of the corner of your mouth.  We just can't drink.  Many of us like to party, love to dance, will even date (if we're not married, or even some of us who are married); and are, believe it or not, complete hoots to have around.  I promise.  Come on, try it, you know you want to...

♦♦♦ 

This concludes this very important public service announcement.  I am very appreciative of your time and will no longer bore you with any more wretched details of my life.  Today.

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Thank you for indulging my Sunday afternoon snark.  I will return to regular programming when my mind is back in a more balanced condition, whenever that may be.  Happy November.