20 years

November 6, 1989 was a very significant day for me - it was my first day of a life in sobriety. As a blogger, I haven't written about my sobriety because it is personal and something I don't share with many outside of small groups of "insiders". However, I am proud of my 20 years of sobriety and feel the need to put a few thoughts into words.

I am not big on drunk-alogs, so I won't go into the how it was part of my story. I drank like a pig until the party was over, then drank some more. I drank until I was sick and tired of being sick and tired and knew alcohol was running and ruining my life. I had to stop. I also had too much pride and ego to go to treatment, so I grabbed on to the arms of chairs in meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous and gripped until my knuckles turned white.

I did what I was told - got a home group, a sponsor, did service work and didn't drink. I committed myself to sobriety and hoped for a better life. I learned faith.

Now, twenty years later, I am at a different stage in my life. Yes, I still go to meetings, but I am no guru. Nor do I want to be. Today, I just want to participate in and enjoy life. I don't spend time worrying about "God's will" for me or even reading the "Big Book" for that matter. I learned some time ago that meetings can take me only so far. That not all answers are there or in the books we are told to use as a guide early on. I do believe there is reference to seeking professional help in the pages of that big blue book and that is what I needed to do to help myself become whole.

I went to meetings. Put on a happy face but was miserable inside. Depressed. Angry. In denial that someone with as much sobriety as I had could still have problems. But guess what? I have this condition. It's called being a member of the human race and we all have issues we have to face. They aren't exclusive to alcoholics, although to hear some people talk in meetings you would think so. Again....News Flash! Human beings of all types have mental and physical problems and we all have to learn how to deal with them.

So does twenty years make me some sage old timer bathed in a constant warm light of serenity? No. It makes me a guy who has been to lots of meetings, is twenty years older than he was when he stopped drinking and has maybe learned a thing or two along the way. But I would hope I would be open minded enough to learn and grow over that period of time.

In sobriety I have been divorced, married, had two children who have never seen me drunk (but have seen me as a raving lunatic), lost a parent, had cancer and the chemo that goes with it and I very nearly lost my family due to stubbornness and deep seated anger. For that matter, I had lost sight of myself. Through it all I never drank and with the help of a loving wife and professional care, I rediscovered love and goodness in my life. I woke up. Life had been dark and smelled of shit...so I pulled my head out of my ass.

I also rediscovered writing. Yes, I can go on and on, but don't we all at times. I write today for me. Sometimes to release, vent - as I am doing here. Sometimes just to draw a picture. To feel the creative juices flowing again. It was a love I lost and, again with the help of my beautiful and talented wife, found anew. (Anew....pulease.)

So, CHEERS! everyone. Lift a glass of your favorite beverage (I prefer H2O) and toast to growth, happiness, faith and love of family and friends.

Fall 55

Clouds strolled by
on the wings of wind.
Dark gray on a background of pewter
with the occasional shimmer
of silver or blue.
Cold stopped the sap
from flowing through the veins
of deciduous leaves
ripping the blue
from their spectrum
and leaving only
the fires of yellow,
orange and red
to warm Fall’s chill.

__________________________________
This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.

If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.
The challenge is on.

Or come back on Sunday to try my Sunday 160.

If you can fill a text message, you can do this.

I can scribble in a superior fashion - I guess

I have been honored with an award from Matty in his blog Cha-Ching in which he lists a variety of awards he recently received. The award he passes on to me is the Superior Scribbler. I haven't decided if this award is for my writing or if Matty has secretly been talking to Mrs. Monkey Man who has told him my handwriting is nothing more than illegible scribbling.

Now comes the cut and paste part of this blog. I really wanted to rewrite these rules to make them mine, but truth be known I was just too lazy having been in a state of recovery from eating all my kids' Halloween candy and the hangover that goes with it. (Okay, that was a blatant plug to my last blog - the Sunday 160 - which is a basic rip off of G-Man's Flash Fiction Friday 55.)

I guess since I really didn't have anything to write about other than getting this award, I would just run on and on and see how many links I can get in to my older posts. Try this one. I wrote it when I couldn't sleep one night. Or this one which I wrote as a tribute to Mrs. MM who I love and respect to no end.

Oh, yah, the rules.

The Scribbler award comes with some rules:
• Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
• Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
• Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
• Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

My Scribbler Award winners are:
Pheromone Girl Grows Up (Be sure to link to and read her older posts as Pheromone Girl)
Adventures of One Sober Woman
Let Me Go On And On...
Green Eyed Momster (I know you've already received one of these....but not from me)
Mrs. Nesbitt's Place

So there you have it. If you haven't visited these writers, please do. If you have, please continue to do so. Thanks again, Matty, and did I mention my blog on Childhood Fear or my post that was my first stab at poetry?

Told you I was going to promote. Happy November.

The Day After

His headed pounded,

aching from the previous

night's activities.

Regrets and remorse.

Yes.

But he couldn't

stop himself.

Halloween candy hangovers were a bitch.

___________________________________

This is a Sunday 160.
Take the Challenge if you dare.

Mutilation Muse

He crept up on his victim.
Knife held high.
His heart pounded in his chest
as his plan ran through his mind
over and over again.
He knew this was
a job he had to do.
Razor sharp steel
piercing flesh,
changing this perfect form
into something
horrifyingly different
and unrecognizable.

Carving pumpkins was carnage.

__________________________________
This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.

If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.

The challenge is on.

Or come back on Sunday to try my Sunday 160.

If you can fill a text message, you can do this.

The Fish Stinks from the Head

Written up and verbally spanked.
Watching as the set up for the future
was being indirectly laid out.

The stink rose from it as if the paper
had been flavored by the words and
pressed from the compost of evil
thoughts and manipulative planning
that had bred this blood sport.

Toe the line. Meet unstated goals.
Don't make any mistakes and please
check your sense of humor at the door.

Family and camaraderie are spoken
here but only played out as a fantasy.
We want to pretend to look good so
our Gods of a greater corporate level
can see that we mean well.

It is all about facade.
True heart means nothing.
Soulless eyes lead.
Church on Sunday allows them
to be forgiven and let's them
live with their sin in a false skin.

A skin uncomfortable to me.
Let them have it.
Let them chafe.
Let them view a reflection that
looks familiar but scares just the same.

Agendas are kept hidden as new plots
hatch from the rot of spoiled minds.

Honor and honesty don't play
in today's game.

Getting Hitched

Moving is among the most stressful things that can happen in the average person’s life. It may not be at the top, but it makes the list and I have yet to talk to anyone who is overjoyed at the prospect of boxing up their lives and living the chaos of not having access to your junk at one residence and reorganizing at the other.

MM: “Where’s my underwear?”
Mrs. MM: “You packed them. You ought to be able to find them. If not, you just go commando?”

So those are the minor details and time will get us organized again. The real fun is getting people together, filling up that Uhaul and all the goofiness that goes along with a bunch of non-professionals pretending to know what they are doing. Me...I drive the truck and pack the back like a Tetris pro. King size bed at the back, couch here, desk there, fill holes with boxes and try not to break stuff or scratch Mrs. MM's furniture. Remember those luggage commercials with the gorillas tossing around bags? Well, we just can't allow that.

Packing the truck goes pretty well. We manage to get everything we wanted into it plus quite a few items we thought would have to go on a second trip. Down goes the back door of the truck. Our friends start taking off to meet us at the new house and I hop into the cab of the Uhaul, slip the key into the ignition, fire that baby up, put it in gear and step on the gas. Rrrrrrrrr spin the tires as I go nowhere. "What the..." I say to myself as the stench of burning rubber wafts through my nostrils, "how come I'm not moving?"

Out I jump from the cab. Mrs. MM looking not too pleased informs me that we seem to have the trailer hitch stuck on the small rise in our driveway. Shit! High centered in my own drive. I am pissed that I've done something stupid....again.

At this point everyone involved in the move becomes an expert engineer. Neighbor Brian grabs wood planks and a hammer from his garage and starts shoving them under the tires that just don't seem to want to touch ground completely. My mother-in-law starts randomly shoving two by fours around the end of the bumper and calls her husband asking him to drive over with a big length of pipe. I grab a pry bar from my garage (thank God I didn't throw it in the back just to fill a little more space). Mrs. MM puts her driving expertise to good use.

We rock and push and pry and smoke tires and try more wood and gravel and chanting and do an 'unstick my truck' dance. Nothing. We huddle and try more of the same but this time I stick my pry bar under the trailer hitch and stand on it. We move about a half an inch. No one notices but me. So we try more rocking and pushing and gravel. I stand on the pry bar and start jumping up and down on it. Miraculously and through all our efforts we sccccraape off the rise in the drive and are ready to move again....45 minutes later.

Mrs. MM drives the truck around the corner and parks it. When she returns neighbor Brian is putting his detective hat on and analyzing the scrapes the truck's hitch made in the driveway that have left a clear 'N' like shape.

"Looks like he backed up once, scraped just a little on this rise then moved forward and backed up harder a second time to get further up the driveway," he surmises. "That's why it high centered. He made two runs at it to get it more stuck the second time."

Busted.

Yes, I used my best testosterone laden punch to the gas to see how far up the driveway I could get this baby when I parked it. The first effort wasn't good enough, so I did it again. Truth be known I wasn't really surprised when it was high center, I was just hoping to get enough traction to pull it off the rise. As Homer Simpson said in his sing-song fashion - "I am smart SMRT, I mean SMART."

What would a move be without a memorable moment to tell the grandchildren. I bet you've had your own memorable move. Wanna share?

A New Home

The day was bright and beautiful.
The work was back breaking for old men
not used to hard labor.
You discover who your true and
best friends are
when you move.
________________________________

This is a Sunday 160.
Take the Challenge if you dare.

The move is done. We now live out of boxes until we get organized again....but that's a whole different story.

Moving on

My life over the past almost three years has been stressful to say the least. I have sold a house, moved three times, been diagnosed with colon cancer, had surgery to remove the cancer, been through chemotherapy for same, nearly alienated my family due to my inability to handle the stress, lived with relatives for a short period and now am moving again. But this move is a positive one that I am looking forward to.

Cramped quarters has been the order of the day for the last ten months. Now comes a home with creature comforts I have been without for some time. Simple things like a dishwasher, disposal, decent washer and dryer. I know, others have it much worse, but allow me my indulgence. You do what you have to do to survive and our tiny home for the past ten months was serviceable but was....well...you try sharing a single bathroom with two teenagers and doing without the aforementioned. Waaa. Poor me.

So this week begins the move and will take me away from some of my usual activities, like blogging. I have my priorities after all. So I move on to a better, roomier and happier place. I get keys today.

There will be space for all. A kitchen that has room for more than one (I miss cooking with Mrs. MM), a master suite with walk-in closet and our own bathroom, an office, space for the kids, a real garage and a hot tub the size of Rhode Island.

I was grateful to have a roof over my head, but am excited to be taking the next steps in my journey through life.

You're Toast

"What can I get you," he asks.

"Just toast with butter.

My stomach, it’s upset," she replied.

"As you wish," he said

as he adds something special

to the butter.

________________________________

This is a Sunday 160.
Take the Challenge if you dare.