53

Today I simply stayed in bed, recooperating, writing and resting.  I got all slowed down, made myself breakfast and then lunch in bed, read some of my rehab bible (French Women For All Seasons, of course), chatted and skyped with people and did some web research.  In all that resting I feel like something has begun to come together programwise for this consecrated period between now and Midsummer.  Another book has come to grace my tote bag, The Good Girl's Guide To Bad Girl Sex.  I think it may fill in the erotic gaps left by Guiliano's work.  She's French, so she probably is a very bad girl, I'm guessing, and maybe her sex book is due out next year, I don't know, but I think I need this sexuality-and-savoring-specific tome to enhance my program.  Savor School simply must include a retraining of my sexual being and expression.  I've read a bit of the sex book, and it is all about savoring your body, coming to appreciate and own it, and learning how to share it in a way which satisfies you and usually awakens your partner more fully as a human being in the process.  More on that as we go.

I would like to set a goal for my reading of these two books.  The sex book has soooo many excercises too, but then so does the French one too.  Mirelle has me shopping, prepping cooking, fasting for two days, yoga, bike riding, walking (or hiking in my case--love those trails in the woods at the park), and on and on.  The sexercises are mostly done in the budior, obviously, but take time and focus to complete (many are actually meditations, so don't go wild picturing some prescribed orgy taking place every day).  The goals I'd like to start with for reading these books are:

French:  6 or so pages per day plus excercises
Sex:  4 or so pages, plus excercises 

One thing I would like to start doing as an adjunct to my reading, cooking for myself et al, is performing spa rituals at home--real deal face masques, manicures, pedicures, hair masques, exfoliating scrubs, self-massage, house-call massage when feasable, teeth-whitening (I have the special whitening pen, just need to make it a priority) and any other treatment that sounds like just the thing.  I want to be my own lady-in-waiting.  I want to emerge at Midsummer as the made-over Eliza Doolittle--regal, poised, tan (I'm throwing that one in b/c I feel better tan), dressed to the nines (oh yeah, I get to sew and accessorize too!  Costume time!), with great hair and feeling deeply, deeply loved and cared for. 

So, this just in...I am no longer on the market for dates and stuff to do in the evenings and on weekends.  I am no longer pining for the admiration of the rich and handsome.   I don't feel responsible to show up for art openings and performances, and only go to birthday parties and get-togethers of people to whom I really super-duper want to say "I love you, I'm glad you were born."  I'm glad everyone was born, mind you, but for the next seven+ weeks, I'm going to need to be a bit ungettable.  "No, thanks.  I wish I could.  Next time for sure.  Let's reschedule for July or August, can we please???"  I will maintain a healthy facebook, twitter and email appearance, and can skype and phone some, along with sending gifts, cards and flowers, but getting me in person is going to be next to impossible unless I work for/with you or I have hired you to massage me or do my nails.  I am my own best friend for the next 7+ weeks, and I recognize that I don't need to be sought-after socially in order to feel worthwhile.  If people don't invite me out or want to see me, good.  I'm not available anyway.  My schedule is full with reading, doing excercises, writing, yoga, business development, fund-raising (my nanny job and catering), hiking, yoga and parenting.  I also need to sleep, so my new bed time is about now--9:30, come what may.  July may look different and August I may be globetrotting and dancing all night, but for now, this is what I choose to be and do. 

Well I guess this thing is coming together!

Boozing activity for the day--two sips of brandy (tossed the rest--don't know why I poured it, just habit, I guess) and a 3/4 beer offered as a social gesture by Baby Daddy.  I didn't see the harm, as my goal for the next 8 weeks is to have no more than one glass of beer or wine per day in the evening (and always with food).  Also, the Antabuse I'm taking is truly as advertised (anti-abuse), and I started to get that nasty taste in my mouth by 3/4 of the bottle, sipping slowly.  As far as I know, as long as I heed that initial warning (nasty taste, like I've been drinking all night and it's time to go to bed) there's no harm to my body, but don't take my word for it.  That shit can kill if you decide to say "fuck it" and throw back a shot.  Heart failure.  Not fun, and not for the wavering of resolve not to abuse.  Be sure of where you stand before you decide to pop this pill unless you are suicidal and love to suffer. 

Now Begs the Question...

What are the true principles of eating and drinking?  Within the answer, I bet I'm going to find my life.  Excercising the discipline required to honor the pleasures of the table is my own personal savior in this endeavor of Savor School.

One Professor's View of the Impact of Excess on Savoring

"Those persons who suffer from indigestion, or who become drunk, are utterly ignorant of the true principles of eating and drinking."

-Brillat Savarin, The Physiology of Taste

54

54 arrived bright and foggy (in my head), although I didn't feel that bad physically (hangoverwise), aside from the worsened symptoms of upper respiratory infection that had begun to turn into accute bronchitis.  I waited until noon (twelve hours after my last drink), and then took a dose of Antabuse, which is a deterrent drug for people who don't want to drink but have a drinking habit.  It's the willpower pill, and I love it when I make up my mind not to drink.  It causes an immediate unpleasant reaction to alcohol when both drug and alcohol are present in the body.  There just isn't room enough for the both of them, and the drug wins every time.  I don't want to feel that reaction, so I stay off the sauce.  It is my intention to keep up this medication during the remaining days of this recalibration period.  Of course I drank nothing alcoholic during #54.  Yay.  It feels good to be aligned with my desires like this. 
I did many things today, though I really wanted and probably needed to be in bed the whole day, resting and aiding my body's healing from this bronchitis and whatever other challenges it may be having as a result of my chronic over-imbibing.  I'm on her side, and now I can put my resources where my mouth is.  I continue to read (re-read for the third or fourth time) French Women For All Seasons, learning to savor the Spring and prepare for Summer.  More and more on that as the other (chemical) drama in my life subsides! 

55

55 was a red-letter day for my business.  I have been trying to get it off the ground for over 3 years now, and until Wednesday was totally conflicted about having this business at all.  Without going into all the details, let's just suffice it to say that I was able to move into a much more compatible direction with it, and, for the first time in over 3 years, I have almost no conflict about getting new clients, taking on bigger and bigger projects if need be, having staff, and turning this thing into a thriving catering business!  I feel like I have been let out of jail, and that I get to play for a living from now on, even if I still need to do some less exciting things for money while the busines gets off and running.

While I unfolded the above miracles, I imbibed the other three Guinesses over a period of six hours or so, then in the next six hours I drank another couple of shots of brandy, had a glass of red wine, another Guiness or two I pilfered from someone's stash, and finished the evening with about three shots of vodka.  All in all, eleven drinks in so many hours.  Hey, that's what the moderation police recommend anyway, right?  One drink per hour!  Except I don't think that they meant eleven in one day or starting at noon.  55 was definitely another instance of putting the suck in suckcess!!  I am very excited about the blockage I removed to fully launching my business though.  One less reason to want to escape the present!  On to 54!

falling down and going boom

I have become really good at regarding my attempts at mastery over my awareness (speaking here of "failed" attempts, of course) like a kind and enthralled parent regards their baby who is learning to walk.  That parent loves every minute of it--the pulling up, the letting go, the teetering, the hard sit-down on diapered bottom--there's no pressure or timeline or anything at stake.  That parent just loves that kid, and the kid can do no wrong.  Does this mean that the parent doesn't care whether or not the kid achieves mastery of her gross motor skills?  Quite the opposite, and in fact, that parent will be looking for ways in which to support that kid in her quest for mastery...and if there seems to be something wrong with the mastery achievement, such as a developmental delay, said parent is going to be on Google like bob's-your-uncle, phoning pediatricians and getting referrals.  My ability to master present moment awareness without a major vacay to Dry Gulch Rehab Center is still a bit up for grabs...I may have problems bigger than I can solve with my cunning and humor.  We'll see, but I'd still just rather do my own version of taking this endeavor seriously by doing this...blogging, supporting and being supported by friends, continuing with my therapist, my head meds, my start-up coach, and not least, learning to slow down and savor with Mirelle! 

56

There are 56 days in 8 weeks, right? (seven-day weeks times eight, yeah...shut up, I still count on my fingers, and that's...okay)

I'm going to count down from 56, because starting from "1" feels daunting.  Starting from 56 props me up with aromas of mastery yet to come. 

So, 56 was tuesday.  I started this blog, actually shared it with another live human being, then drank some brandy for my sore throat, then some more brandy.  I don't actually posess any brandy of my own, mind you, I pilfered it from my baby-daddy's shelf at our former residence (it's been about 5 months living apart now, and no, I haven't been boozing it up at all to handle the transition stress, noooo, not me ;).  After baby-daddy came home from work (killer late that day, it happens...), we gathered up a bunch of laundry for me to take over to my new place where I sort-of have a washer and dryer.  Oh no!  No laundry soap!  So next I haul my tired (and slightly inebriated) ass to the store.  What to my wondering eyes did appear next to the soap aisle but the beer aisle, and that Guinness looked like the answer right then.  Sore throat?  No appetite?  Warm Guinness!  I took care of three of them over the next two hours, then back to baby-daddy's with the clean clothes.  What goes better with a lot of laundry to fold but...more brandy!  Of course!  It really did feel good on my throat, I have to say, and I love the intense focus I can have when I'm doing housework either drunk or stoned.  My body can't have appreciated all the toxic crap she had to deal with after all that, however, and, already being under the weather, some really solid sleep was probably called for, for which alcohol doesn't help, apparently.  We are off to a grand start!!!  What adventures await in #55, I have to wonder?  I'd really like to have an adventure, actually.  Drinking myself numb is an old, tired schtick that I have experienced so very often.  New frontiers, please!   

the lovely Mireille on youtube!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DV4lNLCQBKU

Savor School

I...need...to...slow...down.  I seek to retrain myself, over the next 8 weeks, to savor.   I am not thrilled by the prospect of getting deeper and deeper into my cups and finding myself to be a rip-roaring alcoholic in just a few short years.  Ask any of my friends.  I'm not dramatizing.  I am by all means a problem drinker.  ...And almost everyone wants to put the same big band aid on this social transgression and offer the same big solution:  go to rehab (or at least to AA, where you can be in good company with other transgressors), and there's nothing wrong with that.  AA has a ton of merit, and rehab is probably a good move for many, but (and here's where the experimental element creeps in...*), I don't want to.  Why I don't want to could fill up a few blog posts and probably will, but for right now, let's just suffice it to say that I see sobriety not so much as avoidance of a certain substance forever (alcohol is a substance in my book) as it is a commitment and willingness to practice present moment awareness.  For me this means that I am willing and set to step back from the machinery of incessant thought about feelings and other occurrences in my life and just shhhhhhh for a moment and be still.  Thoughts will still come, they always do, that's the nature of the mind, to generate blah, blah, blah about what's going on, but I endeavor, over the period of the next 8 weeks, to retrain myself to notice when I've drifted out of the present and am mulling over past occurrences and future possibilities...and simply come back.  The almighty savoring follows naturally, and I'll have more on that after this word from our sponsor--Edible Confetti--"the best-tasting confetti in the world!!!"

*I may still end up in rehab, and so be it, but first I want to try this.  Mastery over my lovely wandering mind is where I'm headed anyway, so lemme just give it a go. 

vital women who are sick of boozing

The above demographic is the target audience for this blog, although plenty of men might also get a kick out of this, and there's nothing inherently unmanly about this path I am embarking on (of course that would depend on the version of "manly" you go with, for which there are a world of options).  In a phrase, this path to moderation might be called "learning to savor," or, "savor school". 

The inspiration for this is a book entitled French Women For All Seasons , which is the bestselling sequel to Mireille Guiliano's bestselling French Women Don't Get Fat.  Wikipedia has this to say about it:

"In the fall of 2006, Mireille followed up with French Women for All Seasons: A Year of Secrets, Recipes and Pleasure.^[19] Devoted to l'art de vivre (the art of living), the book contains 100 additional recipes that feature French staples such as leeks and chocolate. While her first book enabled readers to enjoy a healthier relationship with food, French Women for All Seasons sought to enable readers to enjoy a healthier relationship with life. In both, through her personal stories and illustrations, she espouses living life to the fullest by embracing quality, sensitivity, seasonality, and pleasure while maintaining a healthy equilibrium.<sup>"

I am, of course, a huge candidate for savor school.  For years now I have been regarding a full wine glass like it's a humanitarian crisis, and going to it with bleeding-hearted dedication.  This is not savoring. 

While I do tend to eat far more slowly than anyone I dine with (this has to do with an inability to focus than anything else, I'd reckon), I have lately been growing (and outgrowing my pants), and this tattles on me that I am taking in more calories than I can burn off in a regular active day as a self-employed caterer, part-time nanny and mom of a five-year-old. This is partly due to the fact that my daughter has finally become too heavy for me to pick up and horse around with (I'm only 5'1") and I haven't struck up my weight-training habit yet.  The other part has to do with the immense calorie content of my favorite beverage.   
Savoring is about tuning into onesself and noticing degrees of desire, pleasure, pain (habaneros--it's why the gods gave us beer, by the way, to put out the flames, right?  No, no, no!  That's NOT savoring!  In fact, I think heavy use of hot peppers is nothing short of hitting the button on our in-house morphine supply, or "endorphins."  Nothing wrong with that or masochism of any kind, as far as I'm concerned, except that the amount of beer required to put out the heat, plus time to wait out the painful throbbing of the tongue means that I'm quite tipsy for the meal instead of alert and sharp, then I wind up overeating and ordering a tequila for a digestive--again, NOT savoring.)...anyway, more on what savoring is after these messages.  Thanks for joining me for a bit here. 

Please note:  the content of this blog is in no way intended to try to discourage anyone from going to rehab if they decide they need it.  Treating the topic of rehab with irreverence makes me laugh, and for me, laughing about a topic loosens up my fears around it and gets me going on my way to greener pastures.  Go everybody!!!!</sup>