&bsp; It's one of those days when I'm dancing with my Higher Power, when I can almost believe in the physical presence of angels, when a covey of leaves can scurry across the street like children in a mad dash, all whispering in my head, "Allie, allie, allie, allie oxen free." That's the way it is today. King's X. All free.
Some great letters today. Loveisarose continues to be brave and elegant as she moves through this difficult time. Ahhh, such a sweetheart. And Rebecca, Angel Standing By, wrote. Painful poem from Darcy, lovely epistle from Barbara, and my Art Teacher friend, Tracy, who always writes with such perception did so once again. She asked, Where will you be for Thanksgiving, Christmas?
Dunno. Here, I suspect. The Holidays are traditionally the hardest of times for clean and sober alcoholics, and I'm certainly no exception. Back in Honolulu, I used to hang out at the round-the-clock "Alkathons" held during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's. That incredible emptiness of that time of year, when it seems everyone else is welcomed home to family and friends...so there we made our little stand, meetings around the clock where ya could get up there and rant and rave or whine and whimper, and it all came out about the same. A place to go.
JavaBreak has now gone on round-the-clock service, as I think I mentioned. Josh was there this morning, all burnt-out from his all nighter. A good thing to have.
And Liz is turning into quite the friend. She claims she's fat, but I think more along the lines of pleasingly plump.
I'm 70 #s over my swimming weight, she said this morning. Well, so what. She must have been incredibly thin then.
Connected today, feeling a part of rather than apart from. Took the bike down to get the wheels trued and ended up with a new rear tire and tube, wheels trued, brakes adjusted, chain oiled--all this and more for thirty bucks. Ouch. A deal, but ouch. Steve, from the program, works there and gave me a real break. But ouch. And I'm all smiles now as everything seems to work so much better.
CathyBaker wants to take me out to her mum's house next Monday to take a look at the painting and various other projects which need to be done. A few $ will undoubtedly emerge from this or that. And I'm just the handy-man to do such things, heh.
I'm happy today. I can now read the Greek alphabet, so soon it will be time to begin memorization of vocabulary, lacking a grammar. When that comes...well, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, said the Carpenter, whutevvah that means.
And, yes, I have read *The Road Not Taken* The title is from a poem by the same name, Robert Frost being the author. And the book was written by Scott Peck, a man I happen to have strong disagreements with. Smile. Ohwell.
The weather here remains glorious.
Patti, are you reading these letters????? HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM?
No poems as yet, but they will come.
I saw a catalog the other day, picked it up on the highway whilst riding out to WalMart. Some kind of law enforcement thingie. You know, lots of leather holsters and little cute cans of mace and handcuffs (whipz n chainz izzz xxxtra) and allthat. There was a t-shirt design of a prison surrounded by razor wire with the caption, "If you build it, they will come." Somehow that saddened me.
MikeBell wants me to help him a bit tomorrow at Nancy's. Well, Sarah's place, actually. Mike was over there yesterday morning, doing some precision measuring when he all of a sudden looked up at a young woman in panties, aprancing around. Shook him up so much he screwed up the measurement, cut the board wrong. LOL. Such a guy. We drink coffee together and I listen to his stream-of-consciousness aflowing. It's wonderful. He looks so much like John Malkovitch, but when I pointed that out to him he didn't know who Malkovitch was.
Someone at the mens' meeting last night was putting down this woman he's been staying with. The man has no teeth nor does the woman he's been staying with. And we all knew who he was talking about. A sad, lonely woman trying to reach out for whatever ring is still there near her carousel. He'd slept first on her couch, then in her bed, and finally he awakened to lips and moisture down south.
He cackled that there was no future there as she was just "too damned ugly."
I was livid.
When he shut up (finally), I was fairly shaking. I know her. She's as much a Child of God as anyone else. And she has given him a place to sleep out of the cold. And this is how he returns that compassion? I told him it was utterly inappropriate to share such intimacies in a group meeting, that if he had to share such things, he should go to his Sponsor one-on-one. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
They used to call me "Underdog," way back when in treatment as I would always connect with them. Perhaps it's because I feel not quite good enough, certainly not (at this time) competent enough, or successful enough.
Or perhaps it's just that I don't like people trying to put others down. It's just not fair.
David won't do that again. He smiled and waved at me today at the noon meeting. I waved back.
He, too, needs compassion.
Love ya's.
Dickens
