Nuthin’ here that 5 pints can’t fix …

From red-letter day* to real-hungover day.

(*prior post)

What a difference 48 hours make!

A is for Active Dead People

Yesterday was weird. Seriously weird. Stretched from sobbing after an encounter with the landlord (note: she is in the wrong) to speaking with the dead.

My mediumship pops up in the oddest times and spaces.  Including saloons — were that they were smoke-filled! — amidst complete strangers on a clamorous Friday night of live rock-n-roll and drunken decibels at their apex.

Really need to continue thinking about going public with these amazing gifts and receiving $ in return. It’s never been about the money. Dead (sometimes living) people talk to me when they talk. These gifts I share, deliver, give for free.

But if I pause to consider how much money these abilities could earn, well, I’d never have to throw my mind and life away in some menial Lame Crap Job again.

How refreshing and uplifting would that be?!

Sage Moment: One of life’s greatest challenges is trying to develop self-worth when the family of origin told you you are a piece of shit.

B is for Beer & Buddy

Between sobbing and speaking with the dead for strangers at the saloon: Bumping into an old friend. Friend, acquaintance? In-between. A bar buddy. A peep at Prescott brewery.

Been months since I’d seen Bill. We’ve had encounters of friction (namely due to his insistence that he’s right when in reality it’s otherwise and can be proven, thank you online dictionaries, etc.!)

C is for a Chat-Up

Regardless, we respect each other on some level and are always happy to see each other when it unpredictably happens. Our long chat  — no butting heads this time! — was good and welcomed in the aftermath of the shit with the landlord that had reduced me to an hour of uncontrollable tears.

Bitch. Had to be said. Moving on …

D is for Drink-On!

Indeed weird does describe it. Weird, distressing and wonderful — in one 24-hour swoop.

It was a day to get my Drink-On!

You know when it’s necessary. Same as you know when you’re hungry, thirsty, in need of sleep.

It’s that primal.

Hence after the sobbing stopped … after the predictable shit from the workplace bully {son of a bitch} … after the raw emotional upheavals quieted but did not pass … I turned to an evening dedicated to craft beers. Whiskey Row’s the perfect place for a drink-on.

Big mistake: Drinking without eating. Empty tummy completely. I’ve made this mistake many times. I always regret it. I never learn!

A good drink-on is productive. It’s therapy — in a bottle or pint glass. It clears and cleans the system, ironically. It a reset button for mind, body, emotions and soul.

You go into a drink-on not to get blotto. This is key to a successful adventure. You enter consciously and with clear intent while practicing moderation.

Sounds counterintuitive. It’s not. There’s a fine line between moderation and room-is-spinning-Im-gonna-puke-all -night.

I can’t claim 100% success with all drink-ons. But as a rule, I do really quite well in striking that balance between: I’m drinking more than usual yet not so much as to spend a night passed out on the sidewalk in a pool of vomit.

A fine line indeed! I’m pleased to report that it was achieved.

E is for Eccch

Today I pay the price. A cruncher of a hangover headache eased (but not removed!)  with water (hydration!), coffee and food — so the stomach empty for 24++ hours can chew on something other than its own lining!

I’m 59. I don’t have the bounce-back of a 20-year-old. I know that.

I know it’ll take like three days of recovery and discipline in the basics: sleep, nutrition and hydration.

I know that I’ll be draggy, headachy, sluggish for the next several days.

The Eccccch for a while is the price expected and accepted in exchange for the positives of a drink-on.

Are four days of discomfort worth it?

ABSOLUTELY!

Would I do it again?

YES!

For this drink-on:

gradeA

A for Alcohol. Absolute Success. Admirable Achievement in striking that healthy healing balance between comfortably inebriated and slurring stumbling drunk. Good job! A for Arizona Allycat!

 

 

 

 

 

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