How i Was Spent My Summer Vacation: Days 12 & 13

Day 12

Day 12

Carafe-ty

Carafe-ty

i got toasted at a marshmallow roast. The culprit wasn’t the Bud i had early in the day but a 16-year old step-inlaw. i’d christened her Whine Girl but for the purposes of the party i promoted her to Wine Girl. After downing a carafe of  ‘Red’ wine, the hostess of the party brought out a fresh box of the same which i handed to Wine Girl. She wasn’t allowed to drink any but i told her she had to stay within reach and come on call when i needed refilling.

Wine Girl

Wine Girl

Miss Demeanor’s take on this? i tried her patience and thought it was good, but then her patience tried me and i felt guilty.

This was my first binge of the trip. It took me thirteen days to get here, which is a personal record for me on vacation.

Drink Log

  • 3 Bud Lights
  • 7(?) glasses ‘Red’ wine

Day 12

Dry spell. Hey, see if you feel like drinking after excreting blood. Literally. No kidding. Three times.

5 thoughts on “How i Was Spent My Summer Vacation: Days 12 & 13

  1. “Miss Demeanor’s take on this? i tried her patience and thought it was good, but then her patience tried me and i felt guilty.” Perceptive of you, lol!!

    There is a part of me that knows this is “you” — or a part of you, and just sort of wants to wink, nod, and smile. Then there is the part of me that just wants to be quiet about it all because she feels so sad she is no longer really capable of being Wine Girl. A) She is totally T and not really into wine nor whine right now. Plus, she has an ambivalent attitude about the binges and it sort of takes the fun out of potentially being a Wine Girl when she knows at the end of it all she is going to just be the Woman next to Passed Out Guy. B) She is 41. That is so not close to 16 and being a Girl it scares the shit out of her. It’s hard to be 41 and instead of being the Cougar to someone’s Manther, you feel like you are the Mother to someone’s Baracuda (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=baracuda), wrinkles, sags, cellulite, gray hair and all. You know, it just feels good to feel like *someone’s* fantasy, and when age excludes you automatically from being so, it is not very soothing for the ego. Yeah, I may be okay for my age, and I’m not saying you have ever said differently, it’s just *knowing* that I can never be Her because I already am too old. It just makes me sad is all. Not angry, not jealous, just kind of undesirable and empty. You know, like that shiny aluminum sack inside the wine in the box once the liquid is all gone. Yup. Like that.

    “This was my first binge of the trip. It took me thirteen days to get here, which is a personal record for me on vacation.” This is really pretty amazing, when it gets right down to it! Okay, but there was that Day One, and that was pretty close to a binge. I would say that this was the first binge once we were at our destination, though, and yes, to have waited it out 11 days to get there is something!

    “Dry spell. Hey, see if you feel like drinking after excreting blood. Literally. No kidding. Three times.”

    Oh sweetness, this is the kind of stuff that scares me the most. It’s a no-brainer to me that you, by your alcoholic part of functioning, are pretty much just a ticking time bomb for health-related stuff to start eroding away at what joy in life we can still share together. I’d like us to be able to get to that point in life where maybe we live in a place near a beach, near the ocean, and spend our days doing fun things together! But with the automatic health issues that come with heavy drinking, binge or consistent, or whatever, I’m worried that within a couple of years, our days are going to be spent with me at a vigil beside your hospital bed as you waste away from cancer, or stroke, or heart attack.

    I know, we are all going to die, and some sooner than others. But I would like to have at least half of the years Expresso got with you, and right now that’s at least 6, unless you count the actual legal years, in which case it is 8.5. There are days I worry that we are going to be lucky if we get three or four years.

    Yeah, just another worry about the knot tying. I feel kind of like if one is doing so with the attitude “for better or worse” but knowing there is only going to be “worse,” then why go to all the trouble, you know? Kind of harsh and sad, but kind of true, too. I feel guilty and kind of wrong for saying so. I guess it is that I would like to be sure there is going to be some better and not just worse. I guess that is something that *no one* ever knows when they get into it, but I also think if the deck is stacked to “worse” then I ought to be mindful of that, you know?

  2. “You know, it just feels good to feel like *someone’s* fantasy, and when age excludes you automatically from being so, it is not very soothing for the ego. Yeah, I may be okay for my age, and I’m not saying you have ever said differently, it’s just *knowing* that I can never be Her because I already am too old. It just makes me sad is all. Not angry, not jealous, just kind of undesirable and empty. You know, like that shiny aluminum sack inside the wine in the box once the liquid is all gone. Yup. Like that.”

    Babe, you’re precluded from being my fantasy not because of your age but because you live with me! You were my fantasy before you moved here, as evidenced by the e-mails we sent, the attachments we included, and that first picture that made me invite you here in the first place. What’s great about you is that you were a fantasy and survived the transition into reality. No other girl could. Girls like Whine Girl are a fantasy because they’re pretty as a picture and just as deep. They are pleasant postcards of places i’ll never go and would be disappointed in if i ever did. Whine Girls are fantasies but YOU ARE MY DREAM COME TRUE.

    MWAH

    • “What’s great about you is that you were a fantasy and survived the transition into reality. ” Ohhhh, that’s a really good point. Huh. I never thought of it quite like that, and huh, that’s pretty cool, isn’t it. “Girls like Whine Girl are a fantasy because they’re pretty as a picture and just as deep. They are pleasant postcards of places i’ll never go and would be disappointed in if i ever did. Whine Girls are fantasies but YOU ARE MY DREAM COME TRUE.” So, I am like Hawaii, in a way, huh. I was the place in the postcard that you actually got to visit and then stay and live in, and love it 100%! That does not mean that you don’t like to see a postcard of Cuba or Rome and think, “Oh how pretty” but you know you would hate living in either one of those places if you really had to move there, huh. I am Hawaii (well, presuming you would love Hawaii, lol). I get it, though. What a helpful metaphor!

      (This is one of the things I like about this blog — getting to think through some stuff regarding these issues and then coming to very satisfying conclusions/understandings about them — something you and I are very good at doing together —> resolution. )

  3. “I feel kind of like if one is doing so with the attitude “for better or worse” but knowing there is only going to be “worse,” then why go to all the trouble, you know? Kind of harsh and sad, but kind of true, too. I feel guilty and kind of wrong for saying so. I guess it is that I would like to be sure there is going to be some better and not just worse.”

    And you wonder why i feel nervous when you say you’ve posted a comment… (lol).

    Alls i can say about this comment is 1) i went to the doctor about the above excrement (ugh, ‘above excrement’–nasty) and it’s perfectly innocuous. 2) MANY members of my family are heavy drinkers / smokers and lived well into their 80’s. 3) i’ve been cutting back on drinking and making much progress, so possible future health issues are already being dealt with. 5) i can’t guarantee how long i’ll live, but i do know i’ve got more ‘better’ than ‘worse’ years in me. Don’t worry, if i start to feel sick, i’ll throw myself in front of a bus and you won’t have to worry! (lol)

    • “Don’t worry, if i start to feel sick, i’ll throw myself in front of a bus and you won’t have to worry! (lol)”

      LOL. Gee, thanks!! (*sarcasm*)

      It’s true. My grandpa smoked for 40+ years, quitting when he was in his 60s, drank two brandy Manhattans every night the entire time I knew him (29 years) and died at the ripe old age of 97. Yeah, he was sick most of those 29 years I knew him, but then again, he also did pretty okay, enjoyed life an awful lot from the ager of 68-97, when I knew him. Yeah, you show indications of having such a constitution.

      I guess in a kind of weird ass, fucked up way, the fear that is screaming out of me so passive-aggressively here (gawd, at least I am able to call it what it is….. But I also have a fear of being angry, you know?) does show how much I worry and how much I care that I want all the many years we will have together to be as good as they can possibly be. See? Many years! I do want that, I really do. I wish I weren’t such a ‘fraidy cat. I can see why I am — I have been burned a couple of times, and mostly because I was playing with matches. After a couple of rounds in the burn unit, scarred and dismayed at my own role in my own pain, anything resembling a flame really kind of freaks me out. I am skittish about it. But, I can’t just abandon fire, huh. It’s needed: like in the TV game “Survivor,” it represents my life, too — survival.

      Yeah, I keep thinking about the FDR idea of “we have nothing to fear but fear itself.” Yeah, that certainly applies here.

      I hate to be like a nag about this, but a lot of this comes down to my increasing anxiety of the Unknown and about what it is that you and I can do to decrease that anxiety. One of them is to get your affairs squared away in terms of your kinda-ex. With that out of the way, anxiety over it will be absent and I think put all of this in a much better and lighter-feeling place.

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