Nothing to say but this seems to say it all

"America is now wholly given over to a damned mob of scribbling women, and I should have no chance of success while the public taste is occupied with their trash – and should be ashamed of myself if I did succeed.”

-Nathaniel Hawthorne

I found this on The Junky's Wife blog and it cracked me up. Count me among the damned mob of scribbling women.

Happy Holidays to You and Yours

When I was a child, my parents always put blue Christmas lights on the house. We were the only house that seemed to do that. I thought it was weird, but then I grew up in a weird household, I thought.

Last night I was at a late marathon meeting and this gal with two months was chosen by her home group to share the meeting. When I heard her childhood story, I simply could not believe it. It was like something out of the book The Glass Castle. I was sitting with my former roommate, a grape who moved out because the economy forced him to move back in, at 52, with his parents. We looked at each other in amazement. I'll tell you this--it made me so, so grateful for my upbringing.

I am so grateful that when I got here I had values handed down from my parents and all I had to do was to brush up on them with help from people in NA and a lot of in-depth conversations with my Higher Power. The meeting that shared the marathon meeting prides itself on being rowdy and disrespectful, with a lot of cross talk and slaughtering of the readings. I know this--it wouldn't play in most home groups. After hearing this women share, I had a better idea of why they behave that way and was able to be slightly less judging about the Romper Room atmosphere of the meeting.

Anyhoo, I am grateful for another Christmas clean. I am heading out to dinner with my brother and his wife and her brother, all that is left of our family clan in Arizona. This will be our first Christmas without any parents as my sister-in-law lost her Mom this summer. As my mother said, getting old is not for the faint of heart. I miss my parents all year, but at the holidays, especially so. I am so grateful for all they did for me and that they never lost faith that someday I would get my act together. I believe they prayed me into the rooms of Narcotics Anonymous.

Then I am heading up north to make sure my pipes don't freeze. I have the heat off and the house winterized, but one never knows so I'm going to spend a few days in the snow. The dogs can hardly wait.

Have a wonderful holiday and drive safely. The amateurs are loose.

Another day clean

I am heading out to my home group to celebrate my 24 years. It's a special occasion, as are all anniversaries. I grateful I got clean, grateful I stayed clean, but most of all today I am grateful that I still look forward to going to meetings.

I hit the 10 p.m. meeting last night, which was loaded with newcomers. If I could have given them one piece of advice, and I could give them several, it would be, "Meeting makers make it."

Early on, I stayed clean because a few people took an interest in crazy me and made sure I kept coming back. They listened to me when the service gurus (and these guys were doing service, too, only in a quiet way) were too busy or important to listen to my blathering.

Perhaps someday I can repay NA for what it has given me. To date, I haven't even made a dent in it.

I hope you have a great weekend and a wonderful holiday if I don't blog until then.

An unexpected visitor

Cindy, sister of puppy Cibola. Wait until she grows into those feet!

Romy inspects the newly planted trees, which the elks tore down within a few weeks.

Oz contemplates the puppy.

This beautiful puppy Cibola came up with her sister Cindy to visit me. This litter comes from fine Czech working lines and she is priced at $1500. This is one of 9 females from the same litter.

View from my porch

This week I am taking my cake for 24 years. I am very grateful to have stayed clean. I'll be posting more soon.

We're all Bozos on this bus . . .

I was in a great meeting this morning. A guy from the Greater Chicagoland area who moved here recently, when advising the newcomers to "keep it simple," said "Einstein can't; Bozo can." He's right, you know. This is a very simple program for very complicated, and often too intelligent for our own good, people.

When I was first getting clean, there was a guy in the meetings I looked up to very much. His name was Bob C. He had come from my background and seeing him in meetings made me believe just a little that if he could do it, so could I. Bob always had great things to say, and something he used to remind us of when the personalities got the best of us, especially at service meetings, was "We're all Bozos on this bus."

Just remembering that simple statement reminds me that I can get pretty bent out of shape about things that, in the grand scheme of things, mean nothing. So for today, I'm reminded that "We're all Bozos on this bus."

Welcome aboard.

You will laugh, you will laugh

Happy Thanksgiving. Now go visit I Can Has Cheezburger.

Self-loathing

I was in a meeting today and the topic of self-loathing came up, but not in such fancy terms. The guy who shared was digesting huge chunks of information about himself, much of it negative. As I listened to him, I wondered if he had a sponsor who was giving him direction, or he was trying to wrestle through these truths alone. As we work the steps, we often uncover these "chunks of truth" as I refer to them, which are downright negative.

I also had coffee after the meeting last night with a friend who is in his 17th year and to say his life was unmanageable would be an understatement. Another friend and I spent time listening to the insanity that he was parading through his life (thank God he's telling someone!) and we both asked him about sponsorship.

He moved here from the East Coast a few years ago and hasn't gotten a new sponsor. Now there's a surprise, we told him. Your life is unmanageable, you are consistently making bad decisions, and you wonder why you feel like this?

I just finished a wonderful book titled, The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Search for Meaning. This book talks about the spiritual path we walk with the Twelve Steps. Mainly, the book maintains, we grow spiritually through listening to and sharing our experiences with other human who accept us, imperfections and all.

We find that we finally fit somewhere, those of us who stay in the rooms, at least. I am grateful that I have always loved meetings and gotten what I needed from them. I am so grateful to the people who loved me when I first vibrated into the rooms and encouraged me to stick around for the miracle.

I am glad that, despite my many failings, I rarely feel "loathsome tonight."

Until I blog again, I hope you have a wonderful week.

Happy Veteran's Day!

On this day, I want to thank all the Veterans who have served this wonderful country. This includes a special thanks to my three brothers, Vietnam era vets, and my father, who served in the South Pacific.

Thank you for your selfless service to this great nation. Today, even the squirrels seem to understand how important your service is and was to this nation. May God bless you and keep you safe from harm.

To anonymous, who is struggling in her alcoholism where there are no AA meetings and wrote to me a few days ago asking for some help. There are tons of resources for "loners" as they call them in AA. There are also on-line chat groups. So read this post, click on some links since you obviously have web access, and let's trust our blog readers to post some comments where you may also get help.

First, there are many on-line AA meetings. I can't personally vouch for them since I am in NA, but here are some links I found through a quick Google search.

http://www.aaonline.net/

http://www.aa-intergroup.org/

This is a great place to start! Here is the AA Big Book (AA's textbook, as it were), on line. http://www.aa.org/bbonline/

Any other resources out there?

Post-election party

I am so grateful. It's been a long time coming, but perhaps now, America can get back on the right track. Did you hear Obama's acceptance speech? It was beautiful.

Romy's big adventure

While I was in Mexico over taking a three-day weekend with some coworkers, my roommate baby sat the dogs. When we were driving back on Monday afternoon, I called him to get a dog status. "I have bad news," he said. "Romy got out."

"What do you mean 'got out'?" I asked him. Apparently he left the door ajar and she escaped. He said he spent the whole weekend looking for her posting signs, and went to the pound, but she was gone.

I hung up on him at that point before I lost it and my coworkers told me to take some deep breaths because, of course, I was imagining the worst. This is a dog who has never been around cars and I live in a very busy area of town.

A few minutes later, my phone rang (in Rocky Point I had no cell service). It was a woman who ran a German shepherd/Malinois rescue. Her neighbor had found Romy the night she escaped (Friday) and had taken Romy to her. They had been trying to call me without success. Romy was safe.

Needless to say, I was so grateful. As soon as I got to Phoenix I went to her house and picked up Ms. Romy, who was ecstatic to see me. They had 20 rescue dogs and Romy spent the weekend mostly on the bed and couch, they said. She got along fine with all the dogs.

So the long and short of it is my roommate never apologized, only complained about how it ruined his weekend to have to look for her. I have been over this door thing with him many times, so I'm going to ask him to move. It isn't worth it to me to lose a dog over his ignorance and self centeredness. It's only Grace that she wasn't killed, because she was found on a four-lane street at night.

I had a ton of fun in Mexico, but boy, can my coworkers drink like fish. I don't think I'll be going back down anytime soon. The two of us who didn't drink spent most of our time mediating stupid behavior.

So until I blog again, take care.

Emotional train wreck

Today in recovery, being even a little off balance feels like a train wreck. It's nothing I can put my finger on, but I am feeling a lot of dis-ease for the past few days. Part of it is my volunteer work with the gals at the halfway house who have been through such horrific events in their young lives. We are teaching a ten-week writing class and so much, of course, of what they write about is so very painful and stirs up so many feelings in me. One of the prominent feelings is gratitude--that despite how far down I went, my parents never gave up on me. So I do walk away with gratitude.

I'm finishing my second to the last class in my graduate program and probably walking away with a B, which is pretty much a first for me. That is pissing me off.

Oh yes, I did change sponsors. I spoke to my old sponsor yesterday and told her. I am so grateful for what she has given me over the years, but I'm feeling like I want a sponsor I can spend more time with as she is definitely not a "hang out" person. She made that clear in the beginning, and I never needed that. Today, I feel like I do. I have a tendency not to seek direction, so it is better for me if I have a sponsor I see frequently.

Lately I've feeling very alienated from everyone. I'm sure part of it is the frequent moving, but here is the perfect example. I went to our Dinosaur Dinner last night, which is a monthly event of many of the 20-plus people in this area. Almost all the women who would attend, I learned, had gone up to Payson with a woman who was my second sponsor's sponsor to have a birthday party for her 32nd. I saw her Tuesday night, talked to her at length, and she didn't invite me. Waah. I'm feeling like I have two left feet.

The whole NA clique thing can be painful; I'm sure it's the same in other fellowships, as well. After hosting a friend's 25th birthday party here and not inviting a few people because he didn't like them, and hurting their feelings in the process, I've decided that I will no longer host things that aren't pretty much open invitations. Even in early recovery, I wasn't part of the NA "in crowd" in Phoenix. We formed our own "in crowd," and that's what kept me clean.

There are other things going on too complex for blogging, but in short, I'm having a bit of a time. I know the answers. I'm sure, this too, shall pass.

Until I blog again, I hope you are doing well. Incidentally, Romy ate another two shoes this week. She always picks shoes from different pairs. What can I say? Is there somewhere I can donate one shoe?

Trudge, baby, trudge!

I went to a step meeting tonight focused on Step Six. The first time I went through the steps with my sponsor, my Fifth Step took about eight hours so my sponsor was probably too exhausted to tell me to go home immediately and take Step Six and Seven. Of course, with all our fancy step guides today, I don't know many people who sponsor that way anymore.

However, what happened is I got hung up on Steps Six and Seven for a long, long while. I made them much more complicated than they are. At the meeting there were a few opinions about how to take Step Six, and one gal said that she looked forward to a long, tortuous life with the help of Step Six. A guy sitting near me turned to his friend and said, "Trudge, baby, trudge!"

Isn't that how it goes? Many times we must just put one foot in front of the other, put down our heads and focus on each minute.

Another thing I heard at the meeting before the meeting (which is why I like to show up early) is a man state that the economy was causing him to live in fear. I can definitely relate. I feel very uncertain right now about the future, my future, our nation's future. I believe I can have some level of fear and faith at the same time.

There are only a few "must haves" in my life today: The Fellowship and an ability to buy my anti-rejection drugs. Other than that, I don't need much. I'd like, of course, to continue to pay my mortgage, but so what if I can't? I'd like to remain employed, but so what if I don't? I'd like to be able to eat regularly, but I could lose a few pounds and it wouldn't kill me.

Seriously, as I watch the economy continue to melt down, there is some level of fear. But I know that as long as I can get to meetings, despite what happens around me, I'll be okay.

I love the picture. If I believe in what I see happening around me, I get confused and fearful. As my sponsor used to say when I called her, "God is the answer; now what was the question?"

How Google has made me a better sponsor

I am finishing my master's degree this year in sociology, which basically means I know a lot about a lot of nothing. With this degree, I can probably teach at the community college level about, not much. This degree, in some ways, gives me broader insight into humans and how they react, than some, but I sure am terrible at algebra.

However, the title of this post is not about me, it is about how Google has made me a better sponsor. Recently one of the gals I've worked with for a number of years called me about a very personal issue she was having. After a quick Google search, I was able to verify what I suspected: That her complaint was quite common in her circumstances and that perhaps she needed to discuss the matter more openly with her husband. Thanks, Google, for making me a better sponsor. That is the law of unintended consequences. I don't think Google set out to help 12-Steppers, but there you have it.

Not much else is going on here in Hot Arizona where it is still over 100 freaking degrees. Hope you are all well. 2 dogs are sleeping after their hard weekend in northern Arizona. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Another peaceful weekend

in Northern Arizona. 2dogs enjoyed the cooler weather. I planted two more trees in the back yard, a flowering plum and another sycamore. The grasshoppers had made twigs out of a few plants, so I used a repellent and by Monday morning they were almost gone. Hopefully I can salvage what they ate.

Until I blog again, always wear protective clothing when trying to kill grasshoppers with chemicals. I must now sign off to scratch.

Scrabble and procrastination

Last night I was up north and my friends stayed the night, on their way to California on vacation. My friend is from the Czech Republic and is very emotional, to put it mildly. It all started with a simple game of Scrabble. Because I haven’t played in years and his girlfriend was very experienced, she and I decided we would just start playing and I would refresh myself on the rules as we went along, and we would teach him as we went. Boy, was that the wrong decision.

The lack of a dictionary was another major impediment. The first word he tried to spell was "eco.” We both said that was a prefix and he couldn’t use it. He argued quite loudly that it was most certainly not a prefix, after asking, “What is a prefix?” The second round went no smoother, and he took his tiles and dumped them, and quit. We made fun of him, and continued to play while teasing him.

While she and I played on, he continued to watch and read the rules and correct us loudly at about every other move. She beat me soundly, by twice as many points. I am a type A and if I can make a two-letter word and move the game forward, that is my strategy, which, of course, is a strategy only for a sound arse-kicking.

We bedded out finally about midnight and went to sleep, their two German shepherds asleep with them in the great room, mine locked in my bedroom with me, since Oz was being a bit snotty to their male, Bernarde. "This is my house and my toys and Romy is my pack member and you are an uninvited guest," he seemed to say as he guarded his bones and balls.

This morning the dogs barked when they got up. I think Romy forgot we had overnight guests. They went for a walk and I slept in. When I finally got up a few hours later, they were at the kitchen table playing, you guessed it, Scrabble! There was less argument because she was allowing him to do some phonetic spelling: “genre” was spelled “janre.” Really, that’s how it is pronounced!

As we ate oatmeal with brown sugar (his with three egg whites and one cooked yolk on top), I helped him lose his first game. As they were getting ready to leave, he noticed a wall plate I have, where the entire world, instead of continents, is renamed things like “the Ocean of Love,” “Sea of Deceit,” “River of Revenge,” and “Peninsula of Procrastination.”

“That is where I live,” he said, pointing to Procrastination.

“I would, but I never get around to it,” I responded. We all laughed.

They packed up the car and the dogs and drove off to California, first routing their trip for me on their atlas. A few minutes later, my phone rang.

“We left the peaches,” he said. “They don’t look good, but they are delicious.”

“I’ll eat them,” I told him. And I repeated two more things I had told them as they left.

“Be careful,” and “I love you,” because I never want to let friends leave anymore without that reminder. The world is an unpredictable place, and I want them to know how I feel, just in case. In that matter, I no longer procrastinate.

Vacation time!

I just took a week off work and spent the time in Northern Arizona at my house. I had such a nice time. I had all sorts of things planned that I wanted to do--drive to Lake Powell, or maybe Colorado. I ended up doing almost nothing except yard work and napping, and that was fine with me.

The weather was pretty good, little rain, so most of the days I spent moving the hose around watering trees I've recently planted and trying to protect them from the hungry elk that love to eat aspens. "Aspens are like elk ice cream," one of my coworkers said. My friends, who come up almost every Sunday to nap on my porch, call me by my new Indian name: "Moves the Waters" because I'm constantly getting up to move the hose from one tree or plant to another.

I put up several hummingbird feeders and each day more hummingbirds seem to discover it. This weekend I lost count of how many were fighting over the feeders, but at least three dozen, I'd estimate. I finally broke down yesterday and hung up a third one. Each day as I napped I could hear, as I dozed off, the sound of hummingbirds chirping, wings flapping, and the wind chimes that don't even phase the birds. Here is an awesome sight for many wonderful hummingbird pics.

Each afternoon I napped, so I guess I needed the sleep. I went to a meeting almost every day and wandered around town hitting the thrift stores and chatting with people. It was a great vacation.

One day last week, a woman stopped by my house to introduce herself. She had moved in to the empty house near me. She looked like one hundred miles of bad road. Her car was a rolling wreck, windows knocked out, no door interiors, wires sticking out, threatening my curious dogs' eyeballs. In the first four minutes of conversation, I learned she had just gotten out of a Kansas jail for failure to pay child support, and had just had her license suspended for driving under the influence of marijuana and methamphetamines. I excused myself for a minute and went and got her an NA meeting list. "You don't have to live like this," was about all I said.

Sunday I noticed her walking down the road and offered her a ride. She was going to the local cafe for breakfast. Last night I took her to her first meeting and, with tears in her eyes, she got her newcomer chip. It was pretty neat. She also peeled off the bucks for a Basic Text, so who knows? It's always an uphill battle for the newcomer, but if she's as sick and tired as she looks, maybe she is ready. One of my friends in the Fellowship tells me he's just the postman--he delivers the message. Whether the other person receives it or not is up to him or her. And God, I usually add. Isn't it true that it's merely God's grace that we get the program or we never arrive? Who can explain why I get it and my wonderful relative struggling for years with his alcoholism does not?

So until I blog again, dear readers, put out a hummingbird feeder. The small investment will pay back untold dividends.

Some days you're the dog

Things are a bit rocky around here, but only in my head. As my sponsor tells me, make a gratitude list, so here goes.

• My wonderful two dogs, who love me unconditionally (even though I broke the remote control last night throwing it at Oz after he bit my finger accidentally).
• My friends, who are few and far between these days.
• My job.
• My business.
• My sponslings, who keep me somewhat out of myself.

However, it is rough right now. I am financially paying the price for my Missouri move. It will take me, if I stay on budget, at last 18 months just to dig myself out of the financial mess I find myself in, again. I am truly sick and tired of the way I handle or don't handle money. I believe I have hit my bottom. So last night, once again, I went back to my budget and I am determined to live within my means, or below my means where possible. It is the hardest thing I have struggled with in my recovery and I'm tired of struggling.

My sponsor is going through a very rough time and as a result, isn't going to any meetings, or very few. Her husband is actively using and she is uptight, abrasive and defensive. Her sponsor spoke last night at a meeting and was phenomenal, but she won't avail herself of her sponsor's assistance.

I'm considering my options re sponsorship. It is ironic because I went through a period before my transplant where I only went to meetings at one location and my favorite sponsling (yes, we do have favorites!) fired me because she "needed to see me at meetings." I totally understand now what she was saying. Although it hurt like heck at the time, she later became my sponsling again when I started showing up at meetings after the transplant.

The other thing is that I've totally stopped doing service other than sponsoring. There is a tremendous attitude in meetings, spoken and otherwise, that if you aren't in general service, you aren't giving back to NA. As a result, I'm feeling a bit alienated. So last night I volunteered for the New Year's Eve planning committee. This is a small commitment and with my busy schedule working full time and trying to run my business, is about all I can do.

Tomorrow morning I have to go to a funeral of a dear family friend who died suddenly at 57. Now that may not seem young to you, but to me, it does. I learned most of the cuss words in my extensive repertoire watching Sam and my brother try to fix my brother's 1963 Chevy in my parent's driveway. Sam helped me move my mother to Missouri a few years ago when she was too ill to remain alone, a trip I can make in two days and took us four. It was a caravan of four women, three dogs and him.

He normally called me once a week. "What are you doing?" I'd ask.

"A whole lot of nothing," he'd respond.

He was a highly decorated Vietnam Vet. He was a door gunner on a Huey, shot down four times, had several purple hearts, a Medal of Honor and other military awards. The last time he was shot down, he was the sole survivor. Yet he never talked to me about his war experiences.

He came back from Vietnam strung out on heroin and he came to me to score. I guess my brother had told him what a mess I was. We ran around for awhile, then he somehow cleaned up. He wasn't one of us. He got married, had three kids, and went on to live a normal life. He was one of those people whom I took for granted in my life. He had a quiet, keen sense of humor and was one of the most intelligent people I have ever known. He played crosswords continuously and could help me solve about anything I couldn't figure out in the ones I did. I will miss him.

Funerals are a bummer, and I know his tomorrow will be difficult. Both his parents are alive still, and it is always a tragedy when parents bury their children. But I also find that once I attend and if I can cry, then I'm better equipped to put closure to the passing. I will miss Sam. He was like a brother to me.

On to my brothers. One is back in the homeless shelter, another, here for Sam's funeral, got drunk and passed out on my lawn last night. I drove in from a meeting and the meeting after the meeting at a Chinese restaurant to find him sprawled in the grass next to my truck. I am so tired of this damn disease.

This is why I am writing. I am hurting. I am hurting from the tragedies I watch in my family. I am hurting because I can't help them. I am hurting because I lost my friend Sam, who knew my history and could always cheer me up. I am hurting because I have made more missteps in my recovery. I am hurting because this is life on life's terms.

So until I blog again, thank you for being there for me.