Sticky or Not

My brain has been on a high speed mission of late.  It seems it wants to cycle through all of the memories for the last 10 years.  I’m trying to follow the meditation path and just watch them, like a movie, sit with the feelings they bring, and then let them float away.

It’s not that easy.  I get stuck.

Some memories are not as sticky as others.  Memories of my children over the last 10 years are easy.  I can watch them over and over (and I do) and I love the feelings they bring.  Well…except the nostalgia…not real fond of that one.  But the love, laughter, and pride are wonderful; and even the exasperation, anger and disappointment are fine.  They are all part of parenting and they are mine.  I own them.  I watch them, feel them and then release them back into the universe until they come around again.

Other memories are extremely sticky.  Like those of when I was at my worst drinking. Or when I was dealing with my mom while she was busy killing herself with a lifestyle. Or poor decisions I made as a result of both. Sticky.  And like chiggers or those spiny gumball things that fall off the trees, they can be painful if you hold them too tight or sit with them too long.  So I try to watch them and let them float away on the wind.  But they don’t float.  They stick in my head and begin to damage my already fragile sense of self.  So I have to push and shove before I can get them to go.  It often leaves me exhausted.

Some memories have both sticky and non-sticky attributes.  The last 30 years with the hubs comes to mind.  Most of these are the kind that I sit and enjoy as they pass by and they leave me feeling loved.  Others?  Not so much.  But really…30 years is bound to have some good and bad.  As long as the good far outweighs the bad, it’s all good.

Memories of my childhood are like that as well.  Even though my family was a hot mess and I had no real parenting (besides me), there were some good times.  They tend to be tainted now because the ugliness is so big, but when one comes to mind, I like to sit and watch it while pushing and shoving the stickier ones out the door.  I like to remember my days as a pom-pom girl without looking too closely at the fact that my mother was always trying to upstage me.  I like to remember the time my mom and dad took my best friend in to live with us because, if you can believe this, her parents were more of a mess than mine.  i loved having her around.  It was fun.  Until she got pregnant with her biker gang boyfriend and moved out.  The fun part?  Not sticky.  The biker gang baby daddy?  Sticky. 

The most important thing I do when my brain gets going like this, is to remember not to stay with any of these memories too long.  Living with what was, or what could have been, is what kept me drinking for so long.  Those old resentments and feelings of being slighted (the sticky stuff) created a hole in my soul that I sought to fill with Chardonnay.  The good stuff could prove just as bad.  Because they were not sticky, I chased those memories, constantly trying to recreate the good times.  When I couldn’t it left me feeling empty and dissatisfied.  So of course, I drank then too.

Now I try to stay in the moment.  Not living in the past or the future.  Just trying to enjoy what is happening to me right this minute.  The past is gone, the future will take care of itself.

I want to be stuck in the now.


Lenten Observations

Let’s look again at my attempt at giving up dieting, self incrimination and just generally worrying about shit that should come naturally and with a grateful heart, for Lent.  Our society gets so hung up on body image that we’ve created a multi billion dollar industry all aimed at giving us that “magic bullet” that will take us to our ideal body weight.  Only to be disappointed because genetics dealt us different cards and we don’t look like the model in the magazine or the personal trainer on TV or the movie star on the screen. 

I think the only way I am going to find self acceptance will be to eat healthy, whole, non processed food, (when hungry) in moderate amounts and move more.  Then, and this is the important part, when my body finds it’s natural weight based on my metabolism, accept it.

I’ll pause now while you spit out your coffee, laugh or otherwise discuss the “yeah right”ness of that last paragraph.

As improbable as this may seem, this is exactly what I am working toward this Lenten season. Thus far, it’s going pretty dang good.  I’m paying close attention to when and if I’m hungry and I’m trying to eat well and be thankful and present when I eat.  I’m moving as much as possible, walking the dogs 3.5 miles this weekend (if the weather would cooperate I’d be walking even more) and practicing yoga every day. Overall I feel good.

I’m still struggling with the crap my inner bitch tries to tell me every morning when I’m looking for something to wear, but I’ve gotten pretty good at telling her to shut the fuck up.  Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.  I will say this, when it works…I feel powerful.  I feel blessed.  I feel centered.  These are very good things.

I also have to stop myself from obsessing about every morsel that passes my lips.  It’s so ingrained in my psyche to scrutinize everything I eat and then feel either deprived because I’m not satisfied or guilty because I am, that eating is not really a joyful thing for me.  And I believe it should be!  I think that we should celebrate our blessings and be grateful and present when we eat.  There are so many who are hungry that to be blessed with the abundance of too much food is a miracle.  I’m committed to retraining my thoughts and approaching food from a different place.  One of gratitude and love.   

Like everything, it’s a process.  Also like everything it’s progress…not perfection.

Bless your food today and be present and grateful while it is consumed – in that way you will nourish your soul as well as your body.  What better way to give glory to God?  And isn’t that what Lent is about?


Whatever you do, make it an offering to me — the food you eat, the sacrifices you make, the help you give, even your suffering.
Bhagavad Gita

Giving Up Giving Up

You know…worrying about my weight has become kind of my new obsession.  The constant chatter that went on inside my head, coupled with the dialogue and beat downs from my old friend the Boxing Bitch about my drinking, has been replaced with the same old shit…but now it’s about my weight.  That sucks in the worst way.

Not that the chatter wasn’t always there.  Chatter and beat downs about my weight have been going on inside of me since I hit puberty.  I was a chubby kid and after puberty I was a fat teenager.  I was always bigger than everyone else so that now I have no real concept for how I look to other people.  If I did that exercise where you draw your body on a big piece of paper and then lay down and let someone trace your actual body, I would draw the equivalent of a 5’4 1/4″ orange.  It’s hard to undo what is learned in childhood.

I can’t change the fact that my particular body type will always give me angst.  After all…there is only one Heidi Klum (bitch).  I also cannot change the fact that I am through menopause and my metabolism has slowed to a crawl and that every carb I put in my face goes directly to my ass. 

What I can change is me.

So this is what I’m doing for Lent – I’m giving up dieting.  I’m giving up giving up things.  I’m giving up deprivation and beating myself up about how much I eat, what I eat and when.  I’m not going to weigh anything, or label anything bad, or forbid myself from eating anything.  For the remainder of Lent I am just not going to worry about it.

Okay, even I’m going to call bullshit on that one.  Let’s try this again.  I’m going to make a Lenten commitment not to worry about it.

So, coming from the positive side of that equation, what I am going to do is be kind to myself.  I am going to practice saying nice things to myself every day.  I am going to force myself to look in the mirror every morning and find something that I like about how I look that day (I actually do a really good job of this now – it’s a good thing to do…try it).  I am going to eat good, whole and healthy foods, and not deny myself a treat if it’s what I want.  I am going to meditate daily on the fact that I’ve come a hell of a long way in the last three years and I’m a pretty damn good human being because of it.

In other words, I’m going to give myself a fucking break.

To be honest, I never really understood the whole Lenten observance anyway.  Why in the world would a God who loves me enough to send his one and only Son to die for my sins, want me to suffer because of it?  Sorry, doesn’t add up in my pea brain.  But I do believe that my God does want me to take this one and only earthly life He has given me and be good to myself while I’m here.  I believe he wants me to treat everyone with loving kindness and that includes me.  I believe He’s not too pleased with the way I’ve been treating myself all these years and that He’ll be happy that I’m making even more changes.

Just writing this down makes me feel better.  For one I get to say I’m participating in Lent for the first time in…well…a long ass time.  Plus, I just think that being good to yourself should be mandatory before you get your Human Card.

Be good to yourself today people.


Be Careful…Your Introvert Is Showing

First of all, I didn’t mean to scare you guys with yesterday’s post.  I was trying to be “tongue in cheek”.  But sure enough, as soon as I posted yesterday, I started thinking of things about which I wanted to write.  Guess it’s my own form of mental Drano.

We’re beginning our “event” season here at work.  This is when my job gets hairy because I book, manage, attend and pay for (with company money of course) thirty or so events between now and the end of September.  (Can you imagine if I was still drinking????  I’d get fired for sure.)  Since I’m now here full time, I can’t just attend anymore, I have to work them with the rest of my crew.  That means idle chit-chat, small talk, smiling a lot and generally just making nice.

To be honest…it’s freaking exhausting.

As a closet introvert, I act like an extrovert but in reality, this kind of stuff zaps the hell out of my energy and usually sends me directly to bed when I get home.  Add to that the fact that we have major drama going on in my office right now which, because I’m new and don’t have any skin in the game, means I’m the perfect go-between.  Well, that and the fact that I’m old and just one of those people to whom others pour out their hearts.  I cherish that role but, like being “on”, it’s wears the hell out of my ass.

I thought I was ready for last night but I hadn’t factored in the drama from the office.  So I went home depressed, anxious and just plain tired.  So, for the rest of the season, I’m going to be sure that I do a few things.

  • Get plenty of sleep.  Tired from lack of sleep coupled with tired from small talk and drama makes for a very unhappy Sherry.  Plus it makes me look like shit and I just can’t have that now can I?
  • Make plenty of time to just be alone.  Whether that’s in my meditation/yoga room, or my bedroom or my car, I know I need this in order to be worth a damn to myself and my family.
  • Talk to my family and give them a heads up.  When I get home, especially if I’m late, I’m often bombarded with men telling me what they need, what they did (of course requiring copious amounts of praise for said actions-they’re men after all), or just wanting to love on me.  I love all of it!  Even the dogs get into the act, rushing to meet me and requiring their treat-o-the-day from me.  I love that too!  It’s just that during our crazy time it can be overwhelming (hell…during our not crazy time it can be overwhelming) so I need a little distance for about ten minutes, then I’m good to go.
  • Making weekends about family and recharging my batteries.  I’m really good about being present when I’m home.  I don’t even get my Blackberry out of my purse.  But (I hate buts), during the crazy time I’m tempted to check it from time to time.  If I do…the next thing I know I’m sucked into something.  Can’t let that happen.
  • Eat good food.  These events all have food (and booze).  Sometimes it’s good food.  Most of the time it’s bar food.  Now, while I love a good chicken wing as much as the next girl, a steady diet of bar food wreaks havoc not only on my hips and skin, but it makes me sluggish and grumpy as well.  Fresh, whole food is a must to keep me sane.
  • Lots of yoga, meditation and prayer. 

I learned a lot from my experience last year.  Lots of “what not to do’s”.  This should be a fun year with a lot of challenges and opportunities.  I’m ready…I just hope my inner introvert is.


Blogger’s Block

No one who knows me would ever believe this, but for the last few days…I have nothing to say.

For reals?


I guess it could be called writer’s block…if I were a writer.  Maybe there’s a thing called Blogger’s Block.  There should be.  It’s a better alliteration.  Okay, so I have Blogger’s Block.

The good news (at least for me) is that every time I think I’m done writing this blog and I come out here and officially announce it, my brain kicks into gear and all of a sudden I have a million different things I want to write! 

So this is my official statement for the day.
(wink, wink) I am officially done with this blog (ptooey).  I have officially said all I can say here (sly smile..more winking). 

Let’s see if it works this time.  I’ll keep you posted.


Just Do It

We’re doing our fancy Valentine’s Day dinner on Saturday night.  That means I get to marinate some beautiful beef in my famous marinade.  (Okay…it’s famous around my house anyway.)  It consists of brown sugar, soy, and lots and lots of bourbon.  You put the steak in and marinate for as long as possible.  The flavor of the bourbon and brown sugar combined with the soy is just marvelous after it cooks on the grill.  And the bourbon breaks down the fibers in the beef so that it’s fork tender when it’s done.  Yum.

I made a mental note to check the liquor cabinet (cabinet over the stove) to be sure we had bourbon and then I had a chuckle…what kind of alcoholic has a liquor cabinet that is stocked with all sorts of spirits and who never has even the slightest urge to imbibe?

Answer:  Me. 

And that got my brain going to how we, as alcoholics come in all shapes, sizes and psyches and so do our recovery plans. What works for one may not work for another.  That is not a reason to give up on getting a life.  It just means you have to find a different path.

I do not attend AA.  In fact, the thought of having to go to AA kept me from getting sober for a long time.  I have written about this before but my prior experiences with AA as a family member (not as an alcoholic) were not positive.  But since I thought that was the only way someone could get and stay sober, I stayed drunk.

And then the pain of being a drunk was worse than the pain of getting sober so I quit drinking.

Eventually I did go to AA for awhile.  I later decided it wasn’t for me and stopped going.  I think the organization is a miracle for many and it helped me move through recovery when I got stuck.  For that I will always be grateful.  But it’s structure is just not what I need to stay sober. 

I’ve also been told (by a therapist no less) that I had a “high bottom”.  (I wish he had been talking about my ass…but alas…)  I’ll admit that when I first got sober that made me feel really good about myself because I was feeling pretty shitty about myself and I grasped any self-esteem I could find.  But as I move through recovery I realize that labels like “high bottom”, “low bottom”, “skid row drunk”, really have no meaning.  What matters is that alcohol has taken control of your life and you need to take that control back.  It doesn’t matter how you do that either…just do it.

And that got me thinking of how paralyzed with fear I was to quit drinking and that got my fingers to the keyboard.  So for all of you out there who are…

  • Sitting in front of Intervention on Monday nights with your glass of courage, watching the train wrecks and thinking, “At least I’m not that bad.”
  • Comparing yourself to friends or relatives who drink and saying, “At least I’m not that bad.”
  • Thinking, “I don’t drink everyday!  I just don’t have an off switch.”
  • Saying to yourself every morning, “I am not going to drink today”, only to feel your resolve slip away as the day goes on.
  • Find yourself in the grocery or liquor store thinking up reasons that you deserve this bottle.
  • Realizing how frightened you are of a life without alcohol.  What would you do for fun for Christ’s sake? 
  • Are tired of seeing the dissappointment in your family’s faces when they see you with a drink in your hand or smell it on your breath over the toothpaste and gum.  (You really aren’t fooling anyone you know.)
  • Are tired of waking up with that pit of despair when you think, “What did I say/do last night and to whom do I owe an apology?”
  • On the phone first thing in the morning to call a friend, just to hear the tone in their voice because you’re sure you fucked up but you just can’t remember.
  • Are tired of waking up at 3 am with a sour mouth, upset stomach, night sweats and an inability to go back to sleep because you are in the middle of detoxing.

…I say fuck society.  I don’t care if this beast is a disease, a condition, a label or all in my head (as has been suggested to me…sheesh!)  All I know is that it had to STOP.  So just decide.  Decide that once in for all you are going to stop this awful carnival ride with the scary clowns and the dirty carnys and you’re going to take your control back. 


First be sure that you do not need medical help to detox.  Detoxing alone can be very dangerous.  See a doctor first.  See one in another town.  See one in an anonymous clinic.  Just check with one first.


  • Contact AA – just google it.
  • Call a friend.
  • Call a clergy member who you trust.
  • Make an appointment with a therapist.
  • Check into rehab (your insurance probably covers it).
  • Call your employers “Employee Assistance Services”.  They are completely anonymous and very helpful.  You don’t have to give your name if you don’t want to.
  • Start a blog.
  • Start a journal.
  • Read recover memoirs.  I recommend “Drinking: A Love Story”, by Caroline Knapp to get you started.
  • Just sit down and white knuckle it until you can’t anymore and you need to do something else.  Then do something else.
  • And if all else fails, email me or one of my other blogger buddies – I promise we’ll love you until you can love yourself again.

I know that this post may cause some to get angry, or defensive.  Some are probably thinking, “Who the hell is she to dispense advice.” Or, “Tsk, tsk…she’ll relapse one day.”  Or maybe just, “Shut the fuck up Sherry.” 

That’s okay.  This is my blog and my thoughts and my attempt to help someone, anyone who might be struggling.  Because I wish I had found these blogs sooner.  And because I promise your worst day as a sober person will still be better than your best day as a drunk.

May you find your path and your peace.


Valentine’s Day

So we all know what today is…it’s the day Hallmark and florists and Whitman’s get rich.  Blah, blah, blah.

It also happens to be one of my favorite holidays of the year!!!

I LOVE Valentines Day!  When I was a kid it was because it meant chocolate but after I met the hubs, it was the one day of the year that belonged completely to us US as in a couple.  A hopelessly and romantically and passionately in love couple.

Oh…and it also meant I’d get to drink.  Yeah…there’s that too.

For once however, the alcohol wasn’t the end all and be all of the day because, at my core, I am a hopeless romantic.  If the movie doesn’t end “happily ever after” then I don’t want to go and see it (even Les Mis ends on a positive note).  Even though Disney has screwed more women and their perception of love than John Mayer, I adore Disney movies because they all end “happily ever after” with an epic score that sticks in my head forever.  I’m just built that way.

So Valentine’s Day used to be about a special dinner complete with a lot of wine, a lovely gift, flowers, Godiva and of course…um…well you get the idea.  We also took advantage of many weekend packages at fancy hotels over the years to celebrate.  Champagne, strawberries, king sized beds and bubble baths plus a wonderful gourmet meal…with lots and lots of wine.

Then the kids came along and we settled for a night out with lots of good food and wine and, if the kids were in bed when we got home…um…yeah.

Then my drinking started picking up and it truly became just another excuse to drink…which took all of the romance out of the equation.  I remember wondering why it wasn’t like it used to be?  Where was the spark?  Why didn’t the hubs seem engaged?  Duh…because he was sitting across the table from a drunk that’s why.  (He would never admit that because he is my angel but that’s how I see it now.  How dissappointed he must have been.  Oy!)

Now I’m sober.  Hmmmm.  About five years ago, we started a tradition where we’d have a big, fancy Valentine’s Day dinner at home with the kids (and whatever girlfriends happened along at the time).  Steak, sparking grape juice, chocolate for dessert.  It’s fun and we’ll do it again this year. 

But as for the hopelessly romantic, passionately in love part of Valentine’s Day…I’m not so sure.  Of course I’m still passionately in love with my mate but, of late, we’ve not been very romantic.  Let’s face it, he’s a man so he’s happy if I’m happy and over the years I’ve been able to coax quite a bit of romance out of the guy but unless I’m VERY specific about what I want, it ain’t gonna happen.  And that’s okay! 

The problem is I don’t know what I want.  I’m not sure how I feel about sober Valentine’s Days or romance now.  It’s just…different.  Without the booze (and the pink cloud of early sobriety) I’m a little lost.  I want the spark and the anticipation and the excitement of a romantic Valentines Day…but I’m not sure what to tell the hubs to do to make it happen.


Oh well.  I just booked our anniversary trip in April.  This year is 30.  We’ve figured it out this long, we’ll figure this out too.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.  Kiss someone today just for the hell of it!


And Elmo…if you’re reading this.  I’ll love you forever…or at least until tomorrow.

Tid Bits

Way behind in my blog reading so to all my friends and fellow bloggers…sorry about that.  Honestly, one of the best parts of my day is when I sit down (usually at lunch) to read your blogs and comment.  Unfortunately we’re coming into our busy season at work so reading blogs, and even writing mine, may slow down quite a bit until fall.

But as they say, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.  For now I’m content to come into work a little early so that I can get my blogging done before the paying j-o-b starts. 

Not much going on here today so I’ll keep this short.  I’m trying not to clench.  I caught myself yesterday when I felt my headache coming back so I did some jaw opening exercises and in about five minutes the headache had dissipated.  Amazing.

I’m kind of in a fog today.  I was stuffy last night so I took a benadryl before bed.  Big mistake.  It did to me what it does to little kids if you give them too much, kept me awake instead of making me sleepy.  (I took ONE.)  But my nose dried up!  So I was breathing really well while I laid there watching the clock change and getting pissed off because I couldn’t fall asleep.  I think I finally drifted off about 1:30 am and was back up at 6:00.  I need at least seven hours of sleep to function properly so…yawn…wait…what was I saying?

Let’s do a round of “things you might not know about me”.

  • Age: 51
  • Number of children: 6 (not all biological)
  • Number of grandchildren: 6
  • Height:  5’4 1/4″ (that 1/4 is very important)
  • Weight:  yeah…right
  • Teen Heartthrob:  Donny Osmond (still makes my heart go pitter patter)
  • Favorite Movie:  Casa Blanca
  • Favorite Actress:  Audrey Hepburn (followed closely by Katharine)
  • Favorite Actor:  John Wayne
  • Favorite Music Genre: Motown and Rat Pack
  • Favorite Recording Artist:  Sinatra
  • What I wanted to be when I grew up:  Teacher
  • What I want to be when I grow up:  Writer
  • Astrological Sign: Taurus
  • Chinese Astrology Sign: Ox
  • Best Physical Quality:  Eyes
  • Best Emotional Quality:  Empathy
  • Hometown:  Washington, DC
  • Age I took my first drink: 16
  • Age I took my last drink: 49
  • Why I blog:  To process what’s rolling around in my head so I can make sense of it; and if it helps even one person to at least think about getting sober…that’s a bonus of epic proportions.

Your turn.  Cut and paste this into the comments and tell me a little about you.  Or not…I’m easy.


Stress and the Art of Clenching

My blood pressure is PERFECT.  120/80.  What’s more…it’s consistent.  It hasn’t changed in over a year (I check it periodically as well as at the doctor).  That’s not what my headaches are about…that is such a relief.  It’s not that I mind taking the medication because the alternative is inconceivable (I watched the Princess Bride this weekend with the boys…love that movie!)  It’s not even that I mind getting old because, let’s face it, we all do and the alternative sucks.

It’s that hypertension and high blood pressure are silent killers and they scare the shit out of me.  The damage they do to your body without you even knowing it are immense so here’s my PSA for the day…if you’re on meds for HBP, take your medication, religiously…your family needs you.

Anyway, turns out my headaches are called muscle contraction headaches.  They can be caused by a lot of different things, one of which is…wait for it…jaw clenching.  Sigh.  I’m screwed.

I am a chronic clencher.  I do it in my sleep and have been fitted with a mouth thingy.  Problem is, said mouth thingy was meant to stop people from grinding and, although the dentist swore it would work, mine only serves to make me clench against the thing.  That may be good for my teeth, but my jaw is still in trouble.

I also do it during the day.  I’m not even aware of it most of the time and only open my mouth when I start to feel my teeth hurt.  I’ll start talking or eating and realize that my molars are sore (seriously…I am not even making this shit up) and that’s when I know I’ve been clenching. 

Over the years I developed TMJ and even locked up my jaw once.  It has created chronic neck pain, shoulder pain and, of course, headaches.  I’ve seen specialists and even had an MRI once to try and diagnose the pain.  Ever single time it comes down to stress and clenching.

The funny thing is, my body has always had a strange way of processing my stress.  When I was younger, I developed alopecia areata that was linked to stress.  A stressful event would occur (like the time my sister freaked out on PCP and almost killed my father) and I would swoop in to the rescue, deal with the problem, stuff down the feelings and then about 3 months later, my hair would fall out.  I would go to the dermatologist, get some cortisone shots and 3 weeks later, my hair was back.  Problem solved…lather, rinse, repeat.

As I got older, the processing of said stress manifested itself in my jaw and a wine bottle.  Guess I know now why my clenching has returned with such a vengeance.  Time to hit the yoga mat and beef up the meditation.

Anyway, for now I have a prescription for Ultram.  I took one last night, my headache went away and I went to sleep.  Stuff put me right out.  Today I can feel the remnants of yesterday’s headache and the threat of a new one but I’m trying to be conscious of whether or not I’m clenching.  It’s HARD.

Stress is a motherfucker.


Oh The Pressure

Man did I have a case of the “blahs” this weekend.  I was just a big lump of nothing.  Didn’t feel like doing anything, going anywhere or even talking (which is a BIG deal for me).  Not only did I not have any energy, but I lacked motivation as well.  I did manage to feed 30 drama students on Friday evening, walk the dogs on Saturday and sew the curtains for my meditation room on Sunday.  Other than that?  I sat my ample behind in my chair and tried to engage.

No such luck.

Of course it didn’t hurt that I had a headache all freaking weekend.  In fact, it started last Thursday and is in full force today.  Not a migraine, get in a dark room with an ice pack, kind of headache; just a middle of the brain kind of headache.  I’ve taken Excedrin, my son’s migraine medicine (very mild), and ibuprofen (at different times of course).  I went one day with no caffeine – no effect (I don’t drink that much caffeine).  I even added some sugar back into the diet to see if that was it.  Nope, still hurting. 

Now I’m no stranger to a headache.  I’m a clencher so I often get headaches from clenching my teeth.  I’m also a huncher, so sometimes my headache will be from tensing my neck muscles so tight.  Of course there’s always the hangover headache which has it’s own pain category all together but I don’t get those anymore…thank God.  I also have seasonal allergies so the sinus headache and I are also intimately acquainted.  This is different.

I have a sneaking suspicion I know what the lack of energy and the headache is all about…I just don’t want to admit it.  I think it’s my blood pressure.  Damn.

Back when I was still drinking, the doc put me on blood pressure meds because, surprise surprise, my once low blood pressure was beginning to slowly creep up.  So I took it religiously for two or three years and then, surprise surprise, once I quit drinking it began to come back down.  So I convinced the doc to take me off the meds to see what would happen.

Guess I know…I’m going in today to talk to him about it.  We’ll see what he says but my guess is – I’ll be at the pharmacy on my way home.

Getting old sucks ass…but as long as I’m on this side of the dirt, I’m grateful.