I was at the state fair yesterday to support a friend who was in a cooking competition (spoiler alert: she won!! She gets to travel to Florida in November to compete in a nationwide contest). While waiting for the judging, she told me about this product line that makes bottled olive juice for martinis! And I’m afraid I snapped at her (sorry!) I said, well if I start drinking again I’ll pick some up. And she just blinked. And I felt bad and said, I can probably put some in my NA beer and make a beer-tini (that’s a thing, you should try it!) Then the conversation turned to the fact that she hadn’t seen “Julie and Julia”, which is odd because she’s a great cook, and she said something about having been busy with her wine.
Then it was “wine talk”. Hhahah, wine! Gotta have my wine, I do THIS with my wine, and THAT. And you can drink WINE while watching the movie…etc, etc. Yawn. Not that my friend is boring, she’s lovely. It’s just that same conversation, that wine chant, the booze litany, the one that used to come out of my mouth as well. The one that says, “We all do it! This is how we do it!”
So this is good. Because it wasn’t triggering, it was merely boooooring. Facebook posts with pictures of the wine-bulance, and the wine-holder for the shower? Tedious. Food52 posts about “10 Summer Cocktails You MUST Serve!!”…meh.
It’s all so pointless. So OBSESSIVELY pointless. And dreary. And dull. And I’m over it.
BUT!! I must not get carried away with “sober&smug”. I have to treat sobriety like religion and politics, with tact and diplomacy and big glass of “shut the hell up”.
Because I could get all fancy and dance-y on my soap box (balanced precariously atop my high horse) and fall all the way to the pavement with a splat. I could. I’m not planning on it. But it’s happened before.
So I need some grace here. Working on that.