Five Years, Fine Friends, Countless Blessings...

Today was a very precious day for me. It started out sunny and just kept getting better.

One of my best friends in Wilmington dropped by my office with a beautiful plant in a huge tea cup and saucer. What a perfect present - I am, after all, a confirmed teetotaler. I believe Sharon was the prototype God used when he was compiling His list of attributes that should go into the creation of exactly what a friend should be.

I went to a meeting tonight and I received lots of hugs and hand clasps. I picked up my five year chip. It serves as a reminder of so much more than five years. The past five years have been filled with more blessings than I could possibly merit and grace beyond my imagination.

After the meeting, a very special friend patiently waited for me to finish a business meeting, and then took me to one of my favorite restaurants to celebrate this miracle of a milestone that started five years ago on a day that felt like the darkest hour the universe could deliver. No surprise I guess, I read somewhere that it's always darkest before the dawn, and even though I was in no shape to realize it at the time, my "dawn" was about to begin.

Five years ago my Daddy told me that it would be OK, that I would rise up from the low place I found myself inhabiting. I found it impossible to believe, but I had to believe this man I revere and respect and trust so much, was telling me the truth. I clung to the hope that he was right. As it turns out, he knew what he was talking about and, one day at a time, the fog began to lift, my vision began to clear and my focus returned.

When I finally put down the bottle, I picked up a white chip and, with the help of God, I also picked up a real life. A sober existance.

So many times today, as I shared with my friend Steve over an incredibly delicious prime rib, I was frequently startled today as my mind replayed the events of that day five years ago. I didn't know you could get from where I was then, to where I am now. I had tears in my eyes five years ago, mostly from sheer desperation and fear. I had tears in my eyes this evening, too, but they sprang from immense gratitude and a measure of thanksgiving that just feels huge.

Learning to live life on life's terms can be frustrating, confusing and sometimes downright annoying but I have to tell you, it's just the best gig going and I just have to say that the good days have far exceeded the not so good moments.

To my daughter Katie, my son Justin, my amazing parents, my sponsor, my faithful friends both inside and outside the Fellowship, I just want to say a huge, heartfelt THANK YOU, for holding me in your prayers, holding my hand when I needed it, encouraging me when I felt small and inadequate and cheering me on through every one of those "steps". "The Promises" Bill Wilson wrote about in the Big Book aren't fiction. It's about "AMAZING GRACE", and it saved me, in every way a person can be saved. Life isn't perfect - it never has been and it never will be but I can tell you this without reservation...

Life is good.

Christmas Memories in Real Time...

It is late just now. I have a million swirling thoughts, observations and lots of feelings and impressions that are percolating inside of me, but haven't attached themselves to the proper words quite yet. They are steeping, like fine jasmine tea in a tea pot and they are even more ethereal than the exotic aroma of delicate jasmine pearls.

Last week was just all good stuff, from every conceivable angle. All of it. We so enjoyed our visit with Katie Jane from the moment my Dad and I picked her up in Cary, after she and John flew in from New York City, until the last, lingering moments for a few extra snapshots captured in our kitchen, when it was time for them to head back to Cary Saturday Evening, in preparation to fly back to NYC on Sunday Morning.

As Katie and John headed for the northland, I headed upstairs as soon as their car left the driveway and I spilled a few tears. Extrication, even after a joyful time, can be searingly painful. Yet even as my eyes were leaking tears, it felt wrong because it nearly felt like I was complaining and honestly, upon quick reexamination of the past week, I could think of nothing to complain about at all. Not one thing. The fact that the week flew by simply meant that it was just that great because everyone knows that great times fly by.

There's so much in life, in all of our lives, where our current realities are intricately tied to "back stories", which we generally refer to as 'history'; If you've lived any length of time at all, you carry your own "back story", and that history or "herstory", if you want to be gender specific, in some way colors every experience that follows - sometimes boldly, but more often than not, subliminally. It occurred to me that even the rough times in the past years, were valuable because in many ways those times have been essential in that they enhance the wonderful moments and how could we truly appreciate the fine moments without recognizing them for the gifts they are? It would be impossible, wouldn't it?

Christmas 2008 was brimming and rich in sweet times and remarkable not because we did remarkable things; in fact, we did nothing out of the ordinary at all and yet, all of that "ordinariness" made for an extraordinary time. I'm so grateful for things ordinary and extraordinary. For peace. Love. Quietude. More love. The absence of worry and the warmth of contentment which emanates from family, friends, cats and a really fine dog.

There are so many to be grateful to and so much to be grateful for. The essence of the season was more than palpable - having little to do with elegantly wrapped presents, (although the presents were great!), but due much more to elegantly wrapped experiences, time spent together, soaking in each others' company and understanding what an inestimably precious gift it is to know just how blessed we are, in real time, to be sharing our home, our lives and our time with those we love so much. That was Christmas for me.

I hope your Christmas was something like that, too. If it was, then you must know how blessed you are, too.

My Wires Got Crossed But I'm Reconnected...

While enjoying a perfectly lovely lunch at Bluewater this past Thursday with Katie, Sherry and my friend Wayne, I placed my Motorola Razr Phone on the table. It was warm out and the scenery was beautiful as it always is on Wrightsville Beach, however, while we were dining, something happened: Condensation was the culprit. The sad truth is that my Razr got soaked from the drops of water that slipped off our iced tea glasses and onto the table, pooling around my cell phone. Corrosion occurred and that's never a good thing. My phone was rendered dysfunctional. Don't you just hate it when that happens?

What I hated even more is that this necessitated a trip to Alltel which can take longer than time spent in a dentist's chair leisurely enduring a root canal.

My recent visit on Friday took three hours. Not fun. That said, it was cheaper than a root canal.

Naturally, I had to decide on a new phone and I am now the proud owner of a Blackberry Pearl. I'll pause at this point for you to be suitably impressed.

You should be finished by now. I'm trying not to let it change me too much, but it's pretty heady. At some point, I even plan on understanding the applications and what this phone can and cannot do. Any phone that comes with software and it's own USB cable definitely has my attention and maybe even a modicum of my respect. I am not intimidated though - I'd never give it the pleasure of seeing me sweat - I cooly eye it in a kind of "you think you're so smart?" sort of way. With a little applied logic and a few mumbled obscenities, I generally figure things out. It's good to have a system.

Unfortunately, Alltel couldn't transfer my stored contacts to my spiffy new ultra cool blackberry. The next best option was that the young man who took care of me, I'll call him "Larry", as that is what his name tag suggested, would e-mail my contacts to me. True to his word, Larry did e-mail me, however I am sad to report that my contacts were not attached. Where my plethora of contacts are is anybody's guess. My alltel rep took my broken former cell phone and I left without it believing I would see my contacts in an e-mail. I am not happy about this, as you might imagine. Larry, if you're reading this, I'm still waiting. I'm becoming impatient.

I am not, admittedly, a person who enjoys spending a great amount of time on the phone, but I do have a circle of friends that I enjoy keeping up with and I have no idea what their cell phone numbers are. I assign names to my contacts and never took the time to remember their numbers. DUH!

So here is my request. If you are someone that I enjoy a friendship with and we have talked in the past year, I would appreciate it if you would e-mail me your phone number so that I can store it in my new phone. I had a rather large cell phone contact list and I have cordial relations with 99% of my formerly stored contacts. You know who you are.

The other 1% (and you know who you are) were stored in there as well so that I could avoid taking calls from the handful of people I don't really have any interest in talking with and it makes it easier to ignore the call if I know who it is that's calling me. I lost those numbers and "warnings" as well, but if you're reading this and feel you are probably in that 1% portion of stored contacts that I avoid answering - no need to send me your phone number. By the way, if you are in that 1% selection, why in the world are you even reading this anyway? It might be something for you to think about.

Now, on a more positive note, my 'preferred contact list' includes good friends such as Sally, Amy, Rick E., Tim, Steve K., Michel, Mike F., Sharon, Billie, Tom F., Kathleen C., Tom and Myra, Susan and Don B., Alistair N., Ruth J., Jimi Z., Jason M., Mary Ann M., Erik R., Bruce B., Nina G., David C., Cheyenne W., Bobbi L., Glen E., David R., Fast Eddie B., Jules L., Mitch N., and a few more that aren't springing to mind at the moment. If you are on this list, PLEASE e-mail me your cell phone number so I can get you back in your proper "stored" position. I would say call me, but I have a real aversion to answering my phone when I'm unsure who is calling me, but I am finding it necessary at this time and frankly I do it with great trepidation because there are some people who I don't really want to get stuck on the phone with for an hour or so and I don't say that to be unkind, it's just the truth. Of course, I have the essentials - my parents, Katie, Justin, Pizza Hut Delivery, Papa John's, CVS, Dr. B., and Salon Beyond Basics.

Note to Michel in France - when you called Thursday, (in addition to driving, drinking tea and being newly reblonded but you have ridden enough with me to understand that), I was completely unable to answer the call because, while I could hear that someone was ringing in, I couldn't push my own answer button. It was frustrating because I could see it was you calling, but I just couldn't answer the call! Call me back this week so I can store your number and catch up!

I am happy to report that my air conditioning is a cool running machine and I am so grateful to Tom for dropping in last Saturday Night and making some logical suggestions and also to Jason for spending most of last Sunday charging it with freon and working so hard to repair it. It is a great thing to have fine friends and I am richly blessed in that department.

Now, as to the swimming pool, it is still a work in progress, but I believe progress is being made. Pool Specialists came out and are trying to affect a repair of a leak in one of my returns. We're waiting to see if their remedy worked. It's swimming season and I'm in need of some aqua therapy!

We enjoyed a wonderful week with Katie in town. Right after I arrived home from work on Monday, Katie and Justin's dad, Tim, pulled in the driveway and, soon after, Justin walked in. It was great having everyone in my kitchen and catching up.

Monday Evening, Justin prepared dinner for his Dad and Katie in his new apartment and they had a wonderful time being together. When these kids grow up, it's a special treat to get everyone in the same town at the same time and this was a golden opportunity. Tim looked great - I hadn't seen him in something like four years.

After the kids and Tim headed for Justin's apartment, I was able to make my home group Monday Evening and I had a warm and wonderful time reconnecting with my homies and finding out what everyone has been up to. I enjoyed sitting next to my buddy Steve even if he did poke me to introduce myself as a visitor, given how long it had been since I'd visited Rule 62. It was a very special meeting. But then again, I've never been to one that wasn't.

Tuesday Evening, Tim graciously invited me to join him and the kids for dinner at The Oceanic. Katie and I met them at the restaurant around 7:00 (I had already scheduled a trim and re-blonding and it's hard to get appointments!) and we had a really nice evening. It was most generous and kind of Tim to include me as the last time we'd all had dinner was quite a few years ago and under completely different circumstances. The meal was great but the company was even more fun and of course, we took photos before we left the restaurant. It's so strange to imagine these kids are all grown up. Though we have parented from two distant cities as Katie and Justin were growing up, Tim and I both affirmed that we had been blessed and were quite pleased with who Katie and Justin have grown into being. We relived some sweet memories, laughed a great deal and I couldn't have been more proud and even more grateful that we are all close and care about each other as we do. That is a priceless blessing for sure. Such a "GOD" thing. Powerful!

On Wednesday, Tim returned to West Virginia, where he is working hard in preparation of opening up a Direct Buy Store in Cross Lanes. It's a HUGE project and an exciting time for him and, as it turns out, it's going to be an exciting time for Katie and Justin. I was shocked to find out that Tim had extended an invitation to Justin to join him in this new venture. It looks as if Justin will not be lingering long in his new apartment because his father is going to buy him out of his lease and move both he and Stephanie to Charleston to work with him. Not to be left out, it would seem as if Katie is going to work remotely from NYC for her Dad as well. So I guess you could deduce that I was out with one seasoned entrepreneur and two budding aspirants on Tuesday at dinner.

I'm telling you, it was a big news week!

Naturally, this is going to be a big adjustment for everyone, but it's a crazy fantastic opportunity for Justin and Katie. It is going to be the first time that my son has moved away on his own big time. Gulp! My gosh, I'm going to miss him like crazy, as are his grandparents, but there is no way he could or should turn down a chance like this. I guess I might have to actually make a trip north to Charleston at some point in the future and, to be honest, I've never missed West Virginia for two-seconds, but now I'll have family there and I guess I'll be buying some Dramamine at some point for those twisty roads in order to visit my son. He's worth it.

Thursday was hectic. Sherry very kindly gave me the day off so that Katie and I could cram as much time as possible on her last day here. We had lunch at Bluewater with Sherry and our new friend Wayne (a native of "that" state), and then we went shopping and hung out until it was time to drive to Fayetteville late Thursday Night for Katie to make her 1:00 AM train that would deliver her back to Manhattan and John. As you can imagine, I was dreading the goodbyes.

Fortunately, Wayne kindly offered to drive us to the train station and, because of the late hour of departure, I was happy to accept his invitation. Wayne made a great chauffeur but unfortunately, he didn't get lost and we did arrive at the Amtrack Station in Fayetteville in plenty of time for Katie to make her connection. It was hard to say goodbye. It always is, but Wayne was great at keeping the mood light so it wasn't a tear fest by any stretch of the imagination. I behaved but I hugged her quite a few times. Hey, we had a delightful week together and she's happy, healthy and doing so well and her life is now in Manhattan with John and their two cats. I am just so proud of her even if she did have to grow up and move away from home and get all independent on me. It happens.

Except for a small detour around Clinton on the way home, Wayne expertly navigated us back home and I arrived back in Wilmington a little before 4:00 AM. With Justin now moved out, this house has expanded and grown obscenely quiet. Cassie welcomed me back inside and I made my way to bed. Katie sent me some funny text messages on her trip north (my phone could receive text messages even in its altered state). I smiled with every one she sent. And after a couple of minutes, I just wanted to cry again because I missed her so terribly. I still do. Indeed I do.

Friday Morning Katie arrived back in NYC and I sat at my desk and relived the week and wondered how it is that time flies so fast when she's home yet seems to crawl between visits with this sprite of mine. I don't know how that works, but it's painfully true and unfortunately reliable. Oh well, they come, they grow and then they go. It's life. It's good stuff (yeah, right). Life goes on for all of us and the sun still shines.

I went into work for a while yesterday and then hit Barnes and Noble because a book or two are the recommended treatment for the post-Katie blues. After that, my friend kindly treated me to dinner at The Bridge Tender and it was scrumptious. After dinner we went outside and sat by the ICW and traded West Virginia stories. In fact, we closed the restaurant! I got home about 2:00 AM - still stuffed but otherwise in good shape.

So that's all the news that's fit to print! I miss Katie and I'm already in preparation to miss Justin in a couple of months. I like to get ahead of schedule on a few things and realizing my baby is going to be way way out of town will be a challenge for me. However, what a comfort it is to know he's going to be working alongside his father, learning so much and getting to know Tim even better. He'll be well taken care of and in very good hands and of this I have no doubt.

Transitions are happening everywhere and I feel like I'm caught up in this wild vortex, but these are positive changes although I reserve the right for a little maternal sadness now and then. I'm sure we'll survive these relocations and have new stories to share when we do get together about life, adventures and living our collective lives in different cities, yet inextricably intertwined by the love that binds us all.

Note to self: I need a sailboat...this house is really too quiet. My kids have either flown the coop or are in the process of filing flight plans. It's time to take to the sea.

I've just got to find a boat with a ship-shape guy.

(Karen - yes, you Karen G. - I'm assigning this project to you. I'll expect full and detailed reports on your much anticipated and expected progress :-)

Happy Mother's Day...And I Am Just That...A Happy Mother!

OK, so the air conditioning in the house decided to go on the blink (on a Friday Night, of course, long after the service people had gone home). Naturally, it was like 100 degrees here yesterday.

The swimming pool would be a nice diversion, if it didn't look like a swamp or bad science experiment. It hasn't been confirmed, of course, but there may be alligators in there. We just don't know and no one is courageous enough to get too close, least of all the two pool companies I've called to check it out. They swear they'll be here on a certain day and they don't show up. What is it with pool techs?

The ABS light came on in my car and won't shut off. So now I have a rear driver's side window that refuses to go up and down, and an ABS light that tells me I probably don't have any traction. This makes Katie very nervous to ride with me but I just tell her to be quiet and get over it. My gosh, she lives in Manhattan and riding in a car that may or may not have traction should be a piece of cake, right?

My son moved into his new apartment last Wednesday. I started steaming the carpet of his old room on Friday Night. I am still, as of this writing, steaming the carpet in a quest for the water to go from black to a nice muddy color and hopefully, someday, clear, which will signal for me that I got all of the dirt out of it. Hope springs eternal.

We're under a severe thunderstorm advisory. We're excited because the rain we received overnight cooled the house down to a bearable 80 degrees. Though it still feels like a sauna, it's trending in the right direction.

And do you know what all of the above issues are? Luxury problems. I was in a bit of a snit last night, feeling as if everything was breaking down and dysfunctional, but my Dad came over to me and patted me on the head and said, "Suz, it can all be fixed. It will be fine. Look at the sunny side.".

My Dad is right. My Dad is almost always right. Compared to so many people facing real challenges, mine don't amount to a tiny hill of beans. It is Mother's Day. I have my son and my daughter in the same town. We still have the gift of sharing my parents company, wit and wisdom.
Katie and I had a lovely visit with Justin in his sparkling, well-appointed, tastefully decorated apartment yesterday afternoon. We had tea. We were all laughing and together and enjoying soaking up each other's company.

This morning Katie and I burst into my Mom's room and wished her "HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!!!". My Mom smiled her beautiful smile. We laughed, we talked, and then we laughed some more. Oh my goodness we are just so very blessed.

Today is Mother's Day. It is warm, humid, stormy and my family is together. Machines break down, pools turn disturbing colors and sometimes carpet takes a lot of work to get clean. However, the most overriding feeling I am taking from this day is that I am blessed beyond measure and I am just filled with gratitude.

It's nearly impossible to go more than five minutes without a smile in this house. There's generally a cat engaged in doing something cute, a large blond dog napping on her back without a care in the world. The fish are swimming in all five aquariums that are running. Nice words are spoken, memories are relived, iced tea is flowing and blessings spring forth.

I may be too warm, longing for a nice cool swim, and sometimes I wonder why my ABS light won't go off in my car but I know one thing for certain. I feel like the luckiest Mother on the planet. Life is good and I love my family.

Thanks be to God. Oh, and Happy Mother's Day!

Four Years of Living Life One Day at a Time...

"Wake up Susie,
Put your shoes on,
Walk with me into this life...
Finally this morning,
I'm feeling whole again.
It was a helluva night...
Just to be with you, by my side.
Just to have you near, in my sight.
Just to walk a while, in this light.
Just to know that life goes on."

James Taylor wrote and performed that song, but I imagine it was exactly what God was inviting me to do on 11 January 2004. Thank God I finally heard this life-saving invitation and at the lowest point in my life, feeling completely beat to a pulp and completely out of options, something inside of me whispered that perhaps there was another way and maybe even "another day".

February 6, 1960 remains the date of my birth, the day I was given life. January 12th, 2004 is the day I was graciously afforded the amazing and precious chance to reclaim it. Not everyone gets a second chance. I never want to take that for granted. In many ways, January 12th is much more dear to me than February 6th.

It was a helluva night.

By all accounts, I should not even be alive to write this entry. I drove in a black out and somehow landed in the parking lot of a grocery store about a mile from my home. I have no recollection of the drive, but in the process, I somehow managed not to kill myself or anyone else who might have innocently been in my path. That fact alone is proof positive that God had taken over the steering of my car because I can't imagine how I made the drive from Wrightsville Beach to that parking lot and every single day of my life, I am so grateful that the only casualty was my neighbor's mailbox (it didn't survive). I have no memory of that either, but my friend Kathleen and I connected the dots and somehow it came to light that before landing in the parking lot of a nearby store, I must have made it home, turned around, and by some miracle made it to the parking lot of the closed store.

A few of the events of that night remain murky but one impossible to ignore fact is that I was in a very bad place and seriously sick. I have no idea how long I had been in that parking space, I was passed out over the steering wheel and though the car was in "park", it was still running. It was then that one of Wilmington's finest must have spotted the lone car parked with an idling engine and found me, knocking on the glass of my window, rousing me from my horrendously inebriated state.

My memories of what transpired after that are sketchy at best, but I wound up downtown at the police department and I was charged with a DUI and even though the policeman didn't catch me driving, the fact that the car was engaged was enough to earn a ticket I so richly deserved. As that long night progressed, I took advantage of my "one phone call" and for some reason, I called my neighbor across the street from my home, asking if he could come and pick me up. I have no idea how I came to choose him as my one designated call, but in my toxic reasoning, I felt it would be better than calling my parents because I didn't want to worry them. That's how twisted and irrational my reasoning was that night. As if they weren't going out of their minds wondering where in the world I was and how desperately frantic they must have been imagining only the worst possible scenarios. They had lost one daughter in May 1973 and I imagine that they were steeling themselves for the possibility that they may have just lost the other one. When I think of the anguish that my family went through that long night four years ago, I shudder and, as a parent, I can't imagine a worse way to spend a night.

My dad is a logical man and while I was busy downtown being booked with a DUI, he was calling the local hospitals, friends and finally, the police department to see if they knew anything about his missing and unaccounted for daughter. Fortunately, his call was answered by my arresting officer who told my Dad that he had strongly suggested I call my family, but he couldn't talk me into it. He relayed the information to my father that I was confused, disoriented, but still very much alive and that I would be free to leave in a couple of hours.

As dawn began to break on the cold Monday Morning of 12 January 2004, my father and the neighbor I had called earlier, arrived downtown at the police department at about the same time. I went home with my Dad who, upon seeing me, embraced me with a warm hug and was so completely thrilled and relieved that I was alive...maybe not in great shape, but alive. He told me that he loved me and I told him that I thought maybe I just might have a drinking problem. (You think???). My Dad told me that I would be OK and that he and my Mom and my son and daughter would help me any way that they could. There were no lectures on the trip back home. There were only expressions of relief and a well-spring of love, kindness and support. I didn't know much that foggy morning, but I knew that I wasn't alone and that no matter what the coming days might bring, the legal repercussions of my misguided behavior or the status of my impounded Buick, I did have the good sense to know that I was loved, unconditionally.

Three days later with as much fear as I've ever felt, my son drove me to my first AA meeting. I was beyond terrified. I knew nothing about the organization or what any of it was about. I come from a long line of teetotalers so this was foreign territory for all of us. I didn't know if AA could truly help me turn things around, but I was desperate enough to entertain the slightest possibility that there may be hope for me there. And thank God I was desperate and so frightened. I would never have sought assistance if I hadn't been. I needed to be knocked to my knees, it's the perfect position to begin a prayer. For me, it was also the best position from which to begin a life, as well.

Nearly on the brink of tears and feeling as shaky as I ever have, I walked into that meeting and I found a room full of smiling faces and hearty welcomes. I walked out one hour later with phone numbers and warm embraces from people who would play a pivotal role in my recovery. After just one hour, I emerged feeling as if I had finally found something that made sense. I walked in hopeless and I walked out with the priceless commodity of hope. At that point, I dearly needed hope.

In the past four years, I have made all manner of silly mistakes, stupid errors in judgment, some dreadfully bad decisions and I have faced some difficult situations. I've sailed through twelve hours in a roiling tropical storm and I've experienced a car wreck that completely totaled my car. It's been a busy four years! But the one thing I haven't done is felt the need or had the desire to take a drink. That's amazing and that's all God. That's a miracle.

This matter of "living life on life's terms" is challenging stuff! Recovery is a serious business because the disease of alcoholism is progressive and terminal, if left untreated. It's a deadly disease and we never arrive at a plateau where we who suffer from it are considered "well", but if we do a few simple things and follow the suggestions of the what I consider to be a divinely-inspired program, we can and do get better. Much, much better.

In my mind, "recovery" is a verb, a term of action, ongoing and, if I do the "next right thing", it's never-ending and that's one of the great things about it. At every meeting I attend, I see and hear from people who have relapsed, who have went "back out" and tried living in their old ways, and those are sobering moments for me because the point is driven home that I am only one drink away from the end of my life.

When I first joined AA, I couldn't imagine what kind of life lay before me that didn't include a glass of wine to get through a date, an evening alone, or a social gathering of any sort. What fun could there be in dining out? How would I make painful chit chat or appear "cool" without a glass of merlot in my hand? What joy was there left in this world? I imagined a life akin to that of being a nun and my transforming into the female equivalent of a monk. Surely people who didn't imbibe had to lead completely boring and colorless lives because there was nothing to break the ice, ease the tension and I wondered would I ever be able to laugh again? I knew I could never drink again, but I had it in my mind that my future looked bleak, colorless and without any joy and happiness and that I was evolving into a sad and boring existence, maybe something a librarian could deal with, but I didn't know how in the world I would find much excitement in the rest of the days of my life.

Fortunately for me, I was fabulously wrong. The idea of never drinking again for the next 30 or 40 years, if I happened to live that long, struck me as the most dismal prospect imaginable and I would become sad to consider the string of sober days ahead of me, with no buzz or mind-numbing elixir. As the haze of wine slowly lifted and I took in my new reality, it wasn't too long before I began to sense that rather than enhancing what I mistook for "a life", I had been making my way with a dulled sensibility. I couldn't see the forest. My vision was so obscured that I couldn't even make out the trees.

As I attended more and more meetings, found a wonderful sponsor and finally began getting serious about "working the steps", things began to happen. Life hadn't changed, because life didn't need to change. The change that took place came from the only place that it could and that was within me. As they often say, "it's an inside job" and my interior needed some serious revamping and major reconstruction. My life didn't transform overnight, and I learned to adopt a different method of measuring the mystical nature that is "time". "One Day at a Time" became my metronome, reliably ticking off the measure of my days and it's stood me well. This is a good thing - I needed recalibrating.

In my early days of attending meetings, I would often hear folks with many years in AA joyfully share how happy they were to be alcoholics and how their bottom became the springboard to a life worth living. I would look at these fine people and listen to them and wonder, "how could anyone possibly feel they were blessed to be an alcoholic?". Was it brain damage that sparked such nonsensical declarations? Mental disintegration? They looked sane and happy and completely normal but I couldn't help but wonder if they were out of their minds. I was sure I would never ever live long enough to feel happy about my status of being an alcoholic. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful to be alive and afforded a second chance, but I wasn't happy that I had landed myself in a 12-step group and while I was grateful for many things, alcoholism would never be one of them.

After four years of sobriety, I can unequivocally state without the slightest bit of hesitation or reservation that I am, completely and profoundly, happy to be a recovering alcoholic. My gosh, the blessings of these past four years, the connection with my Higher Power who, for me, is God, the ability to live my life with a measure of sanity I didn't know previously, and to know that, on good days and especially bad days, I am still a child of God and I am loved and cared for, watched over and protected, was worth every stumble I made to earn my seat at the table. I can't imagine how I ever lived "pre-AA" because that doesn't remotely resemble what is now my conception of living. Admitting my powerlessness, that my life had become unmanageable and willing it over to a power much greater than myself, is the kindest act I have ever taken for myself and I renew that admission of powerlessness on a daily basis.

Of the 47 years and eleven months I have been allowed the gift of this life, the past four years have been a period of intense growth, learning, understanding and offered more hope and inspiration on a very personal basis than I could have ever guessed was possible. In the days and weeks following 11 January 2004, I was sure that would forever be a date I would consider to mark the darkest and most painful day in my life and certainly nothing to celebrate but now I know it was the day that I was truly saved from myself and lead away from the wreckage that made up my life. This is a day of gratitude, thanksgiving and an occasion to reiterate my thanks to my family, my friends and most of all God for taking another chance on me. It is a day to celebrate the most precious gift I was ever allowed. It is a day of hope and joy and a study in unmerited grace; a reason to look forward to a future with the hope of lots of days to be spent at the doable rate of, one day at a time.

I am so very glad I woke up, walked into the LIGHT, and eternally grateful that I finally found my way. To my precious family (Barbe, Maxine, Katie and Justin), my cadre of crazy friends, Officer Locklear (for being the catalyst of change), Hearing Officer J. Stewart (for having faith in me and allowing me to get back behind the wheel), Peter at Monitech (for making me laugh every time I visit), Amy Hotz, (for the nice profile in the Wilmington Star), Erik Rhey (for feeding me so many interesting assignments for "PC Magazine" - this latest one takes the cake!), Glen Edelstein of Random House (for reminding me of the work that needs to be completed and delivered), and all of the angels who light my way on a daily basis and most of all, to God, I offer my deepest and most heartfelt appreciation for another year of magnificent miracles.

In case you missed my message, there IS life after putting down the bottle. That's the best part.

"Wake up Susie,
Put your shoes on,
Walk with me into this light.

Another night has gone.
Life goes on.
Another dawn is breaking.
Turn and face the sun.
One by one,
The world outside is waking.
Morning light is driven away
All the shadows that hide your way.
And night has given away, to the promise of another day...
Another day,
Another chance that we may finally find our way,
Another day,
The sun has begun to melt all my fears away...
Another day, another day.

Oh, wake up Susie,
Put your shoes on,
Walk with me into this light." ~ James Taylor, "Another Day"

A Jury Summons Invites Introspection and Gratitude, "Sunny Came Home" and Happy Birthday to "Our Queen"!

It's been a busy couple of weeks since my last update. When I start receiving E-mail asking me if I've sailed away with a rogue, pirate captain (again), I realize it's time to update and quell such nonsense. I promise I've learned my lesson and I'll thoroughly check and recheck the next sailboat captain I take off with - you have my word! I'm silly but I wouldn't make that same mistake twice...well, certainly not within the span of the same year, anyway! And honest, I've sworn off ALL ENGAGEMENTS for the remainder of 2007. I'm firm about that. I'm practicing..."just say no"!

However, there's always the slimmest and impossible chance that the right person will drop from the sky, but UNTIL then, there's Hugh Jackman and, of course, Sting and his guitar...enjoy the music as you read up on this, that and the other thing. I love this video...it's just so irresistibly lovely. Besides, it's the season of hope, right? I just finished a story for PC Magazine on the technology of "bridge sensors" and I swear the entire time I was working on it, I thought of this song for some odd reason.

If you're reading this, I wonder, are you ready for Christmas? I'm certainly not but I never am. I would be deeply concerned if I was prepared because I'm sure something would be critically wrong. I've just accepted I'm not wired that way and my close friends and relatives know this and they seem to have accepted it which makes all concerned happy, joyous and free!

Let's see, since last I penned this blog, life's been spinning along, just as it's supposed to - in unpredictable directions, tossing in just enough surprises and challenges to make these days interesting, but I'm still smiling, writing this from my FRESHLY PAINTED office, surrounded by Felix, Magellan, Princess and Sylvester. Cassie darts in and out just to check on things and see if we're all behaving. Most of the time we aren't. She loves us anyway.

Yes, I painted my office. I consulted my artistic buddy Bobbi and she suggested a scheme that sounded great to me so I got on with it. My office was the last holdout and if ever there was a colorful room in this house, souvenir and memory wise, it is this office which my kids affectionately refer to as "Central Command". I have no real power, but it makes me think I do and I'm sure it's only been assigned such a nickname simply to assuage my ego and make me believe I have the tiniest measure of control. What a laugh.

But the painting project turned out lovely. I also redid the photo collage that now hangs over the love seat situated in this room and it makes me smile every time I pause to peruse it. It's reflective of my family which is another way of saying it's the center of my universe. The heart of life.

It's also the room that Katie and I hang out in when she visits, where we drink copious amounts of coffee and iced tea and we watch old, vintage movies and we laugh as we walk through the memories we've collected together, and share a few we've made apart. There are always animals hanging around and someone generally has a cat in his or her lap, and laughter wafts throughout the loft, permeating the walls and filling this quirky home with warmth, comfort and joy. I can't wait to share more of those times with her and it won't be long now! She flies in (IF she gets on the plane) next Sunday, 23 December. She did remind me that the mere fact that she has a ticket for a seat on that flight doesn't necessarily mean she'll be ON that flight, so she always reminds me not to count on my daughter before she deplanes. Good advice, but I'm betting she'll pull it together, squeeze John's impressive biceps, dig her nails painfully into his skin - possibly drawing blood - and make the flight.

Now, I love to fly but I hate to drive and I particularly hate to drive to Raleigh...ugh! I experience many of the same physical symptoms that Katie endures when she's inflight, only I do it from the confines of my car. However, this trip to Raleigh will have the added bonus of a visit with my buddy and artistic adviser, "The good pirate, Bobbi", captain of the s/v Kokopelli and I have accepted her gracious invitation to overnight at her home in Raleigh so that I can recoup my sanity that will no doubt be lost on the drive up to Raleigh and be on time to pick up Katie and John at the airport. Plus, I'm sure that Bobbi and I will have a fine time - two crazy women on the prowl in the bustling capital city of North Carolina. No single man will be safe, is what I'm thinking. I can't wait to meet Sofi, her beautiful dog child, and view some of Bobbi's eclectic artwork.

This past week, I was thrilled to receive the annual Christmas newsletter that Sofi dictates to Bobbi, and even more amazed to discover it included a photo of Bobbi and me taken at Bluewater when we were having lunch on Wrightsville Beach this past October. I made the newsletter! I was honored!

I also loved the card that Bobbi artfully designed and it is pinned to the corner cabinet that sits above my desk - a beautiful sailboat on bluewater, beneath a blanket of golden stars and a lazy crescent moon. One of my favorite places to be and, when I simply excise the image of the moldy man from the memory of my sailing adventures of this past summer, it becomes a very nice recollection. To be honest, excision isn't that difficult - he never braved the nightwatch and I spent many hours in the cockpit alone beneath a canopy of stars and the moon in various phases, slicing along with the sound of the waves lapping the hull, the whoosh of the wind in the sails and the overwhelming knowledge that there is nothing like being on the water to feel truly connected to the universe. I will never forget that sensation, the sense of awe comingled with the rarest brand of peace and I want to revisit sailing often in 2008. Again and again and again...Every single chance I get...

The County of New Hanover sent me an invitation in late November - they requested my services for jury duty. Now, I have to tell you, even though I know most people look upon jury duty as a huge pain in the derrière, I was kind of thrilled. I mean, I've been in a New Hanover County Courthouse in a past life for very unhappy reasons and to be invited because they actually "needed" me was a bit of a giddy honor. My family and friends asked me if I was going to "try and get out of it"... Nosiree! Not a chance! How cool it would feel to walk in there and not be scared out of my wits at the outcome, not to be on the "hot seat"! Ahhhhh, the joys and gifts of sobriety are wondrous and many. I sent up two prayers, in fact, well, make that three:

1. God help the person who may be on a trial I could potentially serve on a jury and help me to do the right thing.
2. Thank you God for allowing my life to turn around to the point that I get to appear at New Hanover County Courthouse for reasons having nothing to do with me.
3. God, could you please make sure that I don't have to run into one particular defense attorney from Raleigh because that would be cruel and unusual punishment and hey, I'm not the one in trouble here.

I am happy to report that my services were not required for too long because out of the 100 or so of us upstanding, potential jurors available to step into our role and serve, they only needed twelve plus a few alternates and I was released from my duty a short-time later and told that I wouldn't have to worry about being called again for two years, having fulfilled my requirements as an available juror. Whew! I'm even happier to report that I didn't run into any Raleigh-based attorneys so God must surely have decided I had also fulfilled my time served in the company of maniacal morons for at least two years, maybe more. What a Christmas present from a benevolent and loving Creator!

After the rest of us "citizens in good standing" were free to leave the courthouse, I almost skipped out of the building and I know there was a smile on my face. I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've ever left New Hanover County Courthouse with a wide grin. There I was, on Princess Street, milling about all manner of law enforcement types, thinking to myself at how profoundly life can change and just how much I have to be grateful for in this life I've been granted. I honestly felt reborn and, in a sense, I have been.

It was at least 75 degrees on the 10th of December under a cloudless Carolina blue sky and I opened my sunroof to let the deliciously warm beams shine down on me in the heart of the port city of Wilmington, North Carolina and you know that feeling that sometimes settles over you that communicates with your soul and reminds you that life is just so darn good, and how incredible it is that you are around to be right in the middle of it? I had that feeling and it has lingered with me throughout this week. Yes, life is good. I'm grateful and I am right in the smack dab middle of it and some days are hard and challenging and the coffee isn't quite right (not yours, Mom - 'outside' coffee). My checkbook is positively anemic with only small and unpredictable cash infusions from freelance work and working part-time for my friends, Danny and Sherry, and I have no idea how in the world I'm going to buy very many Christmas presents, but then I remembered other times in my life when my checkbook has been much more impressive, but my life sure wasn't.

There have been Christmas seasons where I have had ample supplies of cash to fulfill and exceed the list of gifts for my family and friends, but other than a nice, positive bank balance, there was little that could remotely be defined as positive about my life. I guess I could have best been described as making my way through life "hit and run" style - no direction, no spiritual connection to speak of, nothing resembling anything close to the definition I now understand to be "joy" and as for "serenity", I wasn't even sure how to spell it, much less become acquianted with it. I was aimless, and even though I was capable of putting on a good face, most days, my life felt dark and cold and pretty hopeless.

I was under the mistaken idea that a good life started with a positive cash flow and worked it's way up from there. I didn't understand that regardless of what First Union National Bank said, I was on the brink of bankruptcy and the worst possible kind - spiritual bankruptcy. As James Taylor sang in "Shed a Little Light", "you can't get no light from a dollar bill". Nothing made sense to me because my life wasn't making any sense but, of course, I couldn't see that or even know it until things got much, much worse. Thank God they did!

I was talking with a friend the other day and we were discussing personal transformations and I was trying to explain to him what had changed, but the fact is that nothing had to change except for me. Actually, what it all came down to was nothing more than a case of mistaken identity. I got my Spirits mixed up. The spirits in a smooth merlot were never going to offer me any long-lasting relief, no matter how many times I kept trying. However, thanks to a series of very fortunate unfortunate events, I finally met up with the RIGHT Spirit and, in the words of Robert Frost, "it has made all the difference."

This Christmas, there's no doubt about it, we'll be able to see the tree because it's not going to be hidden beneath a plethora of presents that used to obscure it as many of our Christmases did a few years ago, but that's OK. Of course, there will be presents, but the most precious ones can't be wrapped and many of them are completely intangible. In this, my fourth Christmas sober and shared with the RIGHT spirit, I've learned along the way what truly matters most and those things emanate from the people and creatures I love most and hold dear. Family, friends, cats, my dog and all of those colorful fish brilliantly swimming about in our aquarium.

Life. Life is the ticket! This house is just spilling over and sloshing around with it. You can't walk too far in this place without crossing the path of something filled with life and the love that fuels it - sometimes it's a grandmother or a grandfather, or a 21 year old young man and other times, life comes attached to a striped tail, a 50 pound bundle of canine goodness or even a pair of fins. Wrapped around it all, is THE Spirit that eluded me for so many years. The one that came from a "Higher Power" and not a glass bottle with a spent cork. Thank God I've spent my last cork and, to my friend up north, nothing is hard if you take it one day at a time.

I am reminded of that quote from E. L. Doctorow as he was alluding to the sometimes overwhelming and daunting proposition of writing..."It's like driving a car at night. You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." It will take you far, even all the way to where you need to be.

Now, not only did I receive some deep introspective reckonings courtesy of my invitation from New Hanover County, but yesterday I opened my mail to find a check for the heady amount of TWELVE DOLLARS! Of course, I'm going to scan it and frame it before I cash it. To be perfectly honest, I feel as if maybe I should have paid them. Who would have imagined such gifts from something as simple and mundane as the prospect of jury duty? With an infusion of funds like that, who says there's not going to be a Christmas on Nottingham Lane? I know, I know, I am NOT going to spend it all in one place. So many people make that mistake. Not me! :-)

In OTHER news of the less philosophical variety, my son FINALLY got his new rotors installed on his birthday present, and his Cobra Mustang is back in business. If you live within 3 miles of my house, you probably know that by now. This Wednesday after I came home, he bounded in my office and leveled an invitation at me...."Mom, let's go somewhere. Let's take a ride.". I didn't really need to go anywhere so I asked him where he wanted to go? "It doesn't matter! Let's just go! C'mon!". Well, who can turn down an invitation like that? Certainly not me! We hopped in the car and we went! We even wound up having a nice dinner together at McAlister's - just my son and me. Talk about precious and I don't mean that warm and fuzzy smarmy precious, but it is a gift for a 21 year old son to have the desire to take his Mom for a spin in his pony car. I looked over at him as he shifted gears, completely unable to disguise his delight in all of the glorious horsepower that revs that pony of a car. I was so happy for him.

I don't really understand that brand of affection toward a car, probably because I don't love to drive, but I know that feeling as I've experienced it whilst engaged in other pursuits. I guess it must be what it feels like when a sailboat is on a beam reach and the sky is dotted with white puffy clouds and the wind couldn't be more perfect if it tried. Or maybe it's the same sensation I felt sitting on the stern of a sailboat crossing the Gulf Stream, watching the phosphorescent wake sparkle in the fragile light of dusk, miles from even the hint of land and wondering if this must be what heaven looks and feels like?

Waves, water and wind inspire that same grin on my face and it all distills into a special sort of joy that makes being alive the best gig going. I was just thrilled to share it with him and I even pretended to understand the machinations of the engine and all that is a Mustang. Mostly, I enjoyed all that it entails to be his mother and for me, that is easily one of the best gigs going. Thank you, Justin!

"Sunny Came Home"

I have a very special friend in New York City who cajoles, prods, cheers, threatens and text-messages me often to remind me that I have an important project to take care of and a story to tell. I'm referring to, of course, my friend Glen who's an Art Director with Random House and one of my most dearly loved and most enthusiastic cheerleaders. In fact, I think he's the head cheerleader. When I was in a NYC a few weeks ago, it was so wonderful to see him again.

Glen and I have had quite a year - while I was busy sailing around the Abacos, dancing on various beaches and becoming increasingly disenchanted with an attorney who's mental seams were rapidly unraveling and coming unglued, Glen, for the first time in his life, moved off the island of Manhattan, bought a home in the suburbs north of the City, went to Disney World for the first time in his life on a fantastic family vacation and three weeks ago when I was visiting NYC, he and his family completed their Norman Rockwell existence by adopting a miniature poodle named, quite appropriately, "Sunny".

Through it all, however, he has been a constant in my life this past year. Glen has believed in my writing project since we had our first meeting in the coffee shop of the hotel I was staying in while visiting Manhattan in October 2006. We became instant friends and he's been an endless stream of encouragement for me in more ways than I can adequately express here. I wear a silver necklace around my neck that on one side has a cross and on the flip side, has the word "LOVE". It was a present from my dear buddy last year and a tangible reminder that I have yet another guardian angel who is willing to work with me and stubbornly determined that I bring my work to fruition.

Even though Glen was busy adding to his family the weekend I was in NYC, he made time to meet up with Katie, John and me and treated us to a great brunch at Arte Cafe and how excited I was to introduce Katie to Glen because they're both just so hopelessly twisted (in a good way!). In fact, as we sat down to a scrumptious meal, it was as if Glen was family. He fit right in perfectly and he and Katie got along famously. It was a special treat for me to be in the company of two of my favorite people however, the thought of them double-teaming me and beating me up sometimes causes me some stress but, well, what can you do?

Glen seems to have a special knack for knowing when I need to be gently nudged, pushed, and sometimes even SHOVED as only a seasoned, born and raised NY'er can, but he does it with love and I know always that he cares. He's like family and I expect it always to be just like that. As I've mentioned before, my life is sprinkled with angels, and some of them just happen to have Yankee accents and frequently call me on my bullshit. Such is the case with Glen. I want to take a second to send a special thank you to my brilliant, talented northern friend who plies me with giggles, sends me iTunes gifts to inspire me, and never loses his faith in me. Glen, you're the best. We have a date for the last week of January in New York - please order some of that fabulous snow that you and Katie love so much and let's go ice-skating in Central Park. Oh, and yes, I'll be delivering my submission because I know that if I don't, there will be heck to pay and I know you well enough to understand that you will never let me forget it. You rock, buddy.

The Heart of Love...

One of the most important events of this past week occurred on 13 December, because on another 13 December back in the year of 1923, a very special person was born: My Mom. We joyfully celebrated my Mom's 84th birthday and what a blessing of a milestone that is! She had a check up with her doctor the day before and she checked out pretty darn well! We're grateful because we love having her around.

She's something else, this Mom of mine. She cooks like a woman half her age, maybe even younger, and she turns out culinary masterpieces that can inspire people to fly from far-flung locations and a few have even been known to paint for their supper (right Billie?). She's easily the coolest 84 year old I've ever met.When Justin and I were out running around town to no place in particular, we ascertained a book, chocolates, jelly beans and cards and of course we couldn't wait until the actual date of the anniversary of her birth, so on the night of December 12th, we surprised her with her gifts and she was pleased.

The phone rang quite often on the 13th, with friends and family calling from all over the place to wish the birthday girl congratulations for putting up with us for yet another year. We easily have the best end of that deal. Whatever steely determination that is sometimes attributed to me, is the result of her donation to my gene pool. Maxine Cook is a force to be reckoned with - sometimes obstinate, fiercely independent and she could easily teach Martha Stewart a thing or two, but thankfully for Ms. Stewart, we keep her so busy that she doesn't have time to mess with such domestic divas.

The center of my mother's world has always been, at least from my front row seat of 47 years, her family. She tends us well and always with a glad heart. I've made her shake her head more than a few times, but I think deep down she's fond of my unconventional characteristics and I know any skill I have in terms of home repair and painting come from watching her through the years. I don't think there's much she can't fix whether it's a bruised knee, misbehaving kitchen appliance or a broken heart. If only I could get her to put faith in the power of Vick's Ointment and The Farmer's Almanac and maybe, just once, entice her to confess that she truly does love cats, she'd be nearly perfect but that might be boring and, given her obstinance, a probably futile pursuit, so we smile when she rages on about cat hair and the way Cassie sometimes drips water from her water bowl, secure in the knowledge that she loves all of the creatures in this house, both great and small. Even the ones that shed. Happy, happy birthday Mom - we love you more than you can possibly imagine. We're just so glad you are ours.

It's Official - I'm An Orphan

The old folks have left the "home". Call it what you want, dress it up if you must, but the cold, hard facts remain the same: I have been ditched in my own house. (Photo: Maxine, Susie & Barbe, July 3rd, 2007.)

My parents left yesterday for a week-long trip to West Virginia. I had my last thermos of decent coffee yesterday morning, a parting gift from my mother. They left at around 9:45 and by 10:30, I realized I should never have approved their vacation. What was I thinking?

It's been a busy week and I must thank Celia Rivenbark for her lovely comment in my guest book - my bottom has been the subject of no small number of comments left in my guestbook - marked "private". Thanks for the props Celia but I don't think my "bottom" can live up to THAT kind of press. I still maintain the hope that you finally get a "good bingo" and dazzle your new peeps!

Forget About "Jaws", Go Ahead and Flirt With the Phytoplankton!

Where to start? Well, let's start this recap alphabetically AND chronologically and I can think of no better place to begin than the Atlantic Ocean. Yes, I know, it's fall. It's Autumn. It sucks, but still, it is what it is.

This past Monday after my 6:00 meeting, I headed over to Wrightsville Beach to take a friend up on his offer of a walk on the beach and a home-cooked dinner. He's a very good cook and, well, the Atlantic Ocean pretty much speaks for itself, so it didn't take a great deal of arm-twisting to get me over there.

We walked over to the beach from his house and it was one of those wonderful balmy, early fall evenings, about 8:30, and the waves were pretty impressive but my recommendation may be suspect because I'm not a surfer. We were walking along and at some point, I think I said, "Wow, I wish we could go in the water...". I just kind of said it in passing. I was wearing long white pants and a gray long-sleeved t-shirt and my friend was in jeans and a t-shirt and he was pretty busy trying to avoid getting his pants wet up to that point. I was already wet up to the knees of my pants which is pretty typical. I always get wet.

But something must have snapped - as soon as those words were out of my mouth, he was taking my cell phone and sunglasses which were perched precariously on my head, rather than my nose (it was dark, after all). Then he lead me not to the edge of the water but INTO the water. I mean, we marched INTO the water. I got pummeled by a few waves and then, the coolest thing happened. I wasn't just seeing stars - I was wearing them.

Thanks to the phytoplankton my friend pointed out, my shirt was adorned with flying, yellow stars. Beautiful! Just absolutely cool. I'm sure that anyone who spotted us out there, standing in the water, probably snickered and thought..."Tourists!", but not so! It's the closest I'll ever come to being resplendent in diamonds, but it's the closest I need to come. The effect was fleeting, but much cooler than hard rocks. How did I NOT know about this? I've lived here for over seven years and this is the first time I've seen this?

Now it's true, this past June as I was sailing across the Gulf Stream from the Abacos to West Palm, I saw the same stars in the wake of the sailboat, but I didn't know you could "wear" them! I remember sitting on the stern of the boat and watching the glowing wake as we sailed due West, and I thought it was the most enchanting spectacle imaginable. But apparently you can enjoy a more personal communion with phytoplankton by simply situating yourself in the breaking waves.

The water was warm, more comfortable than the air, but it wasn't really chilly. I started to remember the opening scene of "Jaws" where that poor intoxicated girl goes for an ill-advised evening swim and her remains wash in the next day in a few uneasy pieces, but I shut that off because sometimes, well, you just have to go for it. I deleted that scene and the accompanying soundtrack and enjoyed myself immensely.

We made our way back to the beach a little further down than where we went in, thanks to a strong current, and it took us a few minutes to find my cell phone and glasses. The moon wasn't helping much but my stuff eventually turned up. After that, we were quite a watery and sandy sight making our way back across the bridge. If I'd seen us, I would have guessed we'd had a little too much to drink but hey, I'd just arrived from an AA meeting and I'd only had a tea and hadn't touched a drop in almost four years! I was glad to be stone cold sober because I wouldn't have had the great memory of that moment if I'd been loopy. I wouldn't have wanted to miss wearing those "flitting, fleeting stars". It's such a caveat to remember what I've done and where I've been! Sobriety rocks! What a gift from the sea. What an even greater gift from God.

Fortunately, I had a change of clothes in my car because I'd brought some in case I got wet on my first kayaking expedition a few days earlier but didn't need them. After we rinsed the sand and salt water off, we were good to go and dinner was wonderful - chicken fried rice! There wasn't any tea to be found on the premises but, well, no one is perfect and you have to cut old surfers a break now and then, particularly if they cook well. I settled for lemonade.

The rest of the week was full of other surprises. On Thursday, I caught up with my friend Mitch who I hadn't seen in AGES! Great to see you again, buddy! We made plans to get together soon and catch up - we've both had a summer of surprises and a few war stories to share. I'm looking forward to it.

What Does a "Feast of Love" Taste Like to You?

Thursday Night, I finally saw "Feast of Love". Thank goodness my friend, the good pirate Bobbi from Raleigh, had written me of her experience seeing the movie and foretold of a slow beginning and it was. She also promised that it would be worth the tedium and confusion if I could get past the first third of it and, she was right.

Morgan Freeman was wonderful. Greg Kinnear was likable and his usual engaging self. I loved Jane Alexander and most of the rest of the cast. The film was fairly easy to relate to - that being the fact that love and relationships are complicated and unpredictable entities.

The movie was set around a coffee shop in Portland, Oregon, and I must say it put the city in a nice light. It felt familiar, the chats we have with friends at our places of caffeination watering-holes. The things we talk about with those in our "inner circle", the conversations and contemplating we all do from time to time was believable and easy to relate to, for the most part. My conversations generally start out with either me saying, "What was I thinking?" or whoever I'm with inquiring, "What were you thinking??", in justifiable disbelief, but that's just me. I'm sure it's different for you.

I wasn't quite prepared for the way "Feast of Love" ended and I'll leave that out because it's worth the price of a ticket and a bag of popcorn to see the movie. I can't say it's one of those movies I "want to own" like "Stranger Than Fiction" or "French Kiss", but it was certainly a nice way to spend a couple of hours.

The Unremarkable State of Your Colon is Impressive!

Friday Morning dawned early. My Dad, Mom and I had a date. My Dad spent most of Thursday in "preparation" for his early Friday Appointment. Yes, the calendar reported that it was time for his five year colonoscopy. And who doesn't look forward to that? I mean, don't we all live for these times in our lives?

Well, Barbe Cook certainly seemed perky and ready to go! If he was dreading it, he didn't reveal an ounce of apprehension. After I dropped my parents off at Wilmington Health Associates on Medical Center Drive, I headed over to Dunkin' Donuts for a cup of coffee and a USA Today and returned to take my place in the waiting room on the third floor, where people sit and dread the announcement that it's their turn. They had taken my Dad straight back so my Mom was sitting there leafing through a copy of "Southern Living".

I took out my newspaper and turned to the challenge of the Friday Five-Star Sudoku and crossword. After I answered the few "easy" questions and found the initial glaringly obvious numbers (and I agree RE, it was not a five-star Sudoku on Friday) - I felt it was more of a four-star effort and not quite as difficult as the usual Friday fare.), my attention wandered and I looked over my paper at those waiting around me. The population of the waiting room was generally older in terms of demographics and though the reception area was staffed by preternaturally friendly and upbeat faces, let's be real - we were in the waiting room where people generally dread the proceedings and what's behind door #2.

I saw many older couples, a few patients who were alone and they just appeared so vulnerable looking. Many of them looked like they would rather be anywhere else, maybe even awaiting a root canal, and seeing the people there alone made me feel sad. I glanced over at my Mom several times and we chatted quietly, and I could imagine her thoughts as I know she was thinking of my Dad back there, under sedation and of course I'm sure she was hoping for a proclamation of good results, as was I.

But I couldn't help thinking to myself, this is where we're all headed. I mean, if we're LUCKY to live long enough, those of us not yet Gastroenterology Patients will someday find ourselves sitting in, if not this waiting room, one very similar, and it will be scary and intimidating. Most everyone pretty much kept to themselves. The couples' around us spoke quietly amongst themselves. Those alone just mindlessly turned the pages of books they'd brought along or paid scant attention to the magazines they'd picked up, but I bet they couldn't tell you what they'd read. I wouldn't have been able to. I was there just waiting on my father, and I know my mind was entangled in all sorts of thoughts.

You can't help but sit among those in a waiting room like that and not feel some of what they must be experiencing. At least, I can't. I envisioned myself in a few years and I wondered, would I be sitting in such a room all alone? Would I have a friend with me? Would I have a hand to hold? I wonder if they'd let me bring my dog?

Then, of course, in "Stinkin' Thinkin' fashion, my thoughts scanned the possibilities. What if they found something wrong in my father? Would my mother handle it well? Yes, she would. She's one of the strongest people I will ever hope to know. What about me? How will I handle it? I have to be brave and strong and I can't even entertain the thought of falling to pieces if it's really bad news. No, I reminded myself, you won't do that. Look who you're seated beside and remember her life and what she's handled with such gentle grace and steely strength. Surely some of that had to wear off, right? Oh gosh, I sure hoped so - whether by nature or nurture, whatever method incorporated, I dearly hope with the S&@t hits the fan (pardon the pun), I hope some kind of strength I'm not always aware of, kicks in, and I behave in a way that will comfort and cheer my family or, at the very least, not embarrass them traumatically.

After almost 2 1/2 hours, a nurse mercifully appeared and said, "Barbe Cook's family?"; In unison, we both rose up and followed the lady in the cranberry colored scrubs. We were lead back to find my Dad sitting in a chair, and smiling that familiar impish grin. He was already dressed and the IV had been removed and all vestiges of medical monitoring equipment had already been unhooked. He looked as if he was having a grand time! The sweet nurse offered my mother a blanket because they do these things in the confines of what feels like a HUGE refrigerator. I mean, you could nearly see your breath it was so freaking cold. She offered me something to drink and I couldn't possibly turn down the cute little 8 ounce can of coke she was wielding.

Daddy smiled and introduced me around to "the gang". "This is my daughter, Susan!". They all grinned and he was enjoying the doting attention of the staff, like the woman magnet he is. My Mom slipped into the chair beside him, visibly relieved and immediately they were holding hands, she with her blanket draped around her and him trading remarks with the medical types. He was a little loopy - courtesy of versed and demerol, but otherwise, he seemed in fine shape to me! Hey, anyone who can have fun at a colonoscopy overwhelmingly earns my admiration for the sheer imagination and moxie such a feat must require and my Dad has it in spades.

After a few minutes, the doctor walked over and handed Daddy a two-page full report (complete with three full-color photographs to accompany the text!) on the state of his colon and the state of his colon, the doctor observed, was remarkable. Dr. Payne mentioned that "Mr. Cook is much younger than his 'stated age'", and this pleased all of us to no end.

"You're in great shape, Mr. Cook. We found nothing remotely suspicious. Everything looked good."

"When do I need to do this again?", my Dad inquired.

"Well, you're 82 and the usual schedule would be when you're 87, but we don't see any reason to put people that age through this, particularly the 'prep work', so unless you're having a problem or something unexpected happens, you're good to go.".

I looked at my Dad and for a second, he looked a little disappointed. Seriously. I was still basking in the warmth of the words, "Everything looked great!", but he seemed a bit perplexed that he shouldn't have to re-up for it in five years because, as he offered, "I fully expect to be around in five years!". I swear I think he was trying to cajole the doctor to agree to another one.

I then informed the good doctor that my parents were planning to leave for a trip to West Virginia the next morning and wondered if he thought that was advisable. Clearly not my ally, Dr. Payne said he could see no reason why Daddy couldn't drive the 400 miles to the Mountain State if he was feeling well-rested. "Sure, why not? Have a great trip! Just don't do any heavy lifting today and you should be good to go.".

Thanks a lot Dr. Payne. :-) (Seriously, can you imagine what med school must have been like for a man with that name? No wonder he went into Gastroenterology. Super nice fellow, though.)

All in all, it was a convivial, cheery post-colonoscopy conference. Everyone was smiling. You'll be relieved to know I let him take off the rest of the day and no, I didn't force him to mow. I'm just way too generous, I know. Give those old people and inch and, well, you know how THAT goes. He'll be wanting the day after Thanksgiving off next.

The nurse released me to go fetch my car and drive it to the patient pick-up/drop-off and told me my Dad would be waiting for me in a wheel chair and I knew my Mom would be right beside him, probably still holding his hand in that precious way she does.

I took my marching orders and headed for the elevator and as I was waiting for it to arrive, I looked back around that cheerless waiting room and even though we had been the grateful recipient of wonderful news, I knew very well that not everyone in that room would probably receive the same glowing report and I couldn't help but scan those faces and I dearly hoped they wouldn't be alone, should it be that they received less stellar test results. Oh, how I felt for the ones who were all alone. I still see those faces and I can't help it. We will all have our chance to sit in those chairs, if we haven't already, and not all of us will have a warm hand to hold like my Daddy did, or as my Mom will when it comes her turn.

Unless you're equipped with a robotic heart, you can't miss the "humanity" in a waiting room like that. Wondering about those other patients, and many of those faces, those thoughts have clung around my mind long after I vacated the building, collected my parents and drove home. It's not maudlin, really, it's just this super-awareness that I should remember that if I'm feeling great or even just "OK" today, I need to be extra grateful for it. Hanging around the endoscopy/colonoscopy floor seems to drive home the point that life is really pretty fragile and precious.

When I got to my car before picking my parents up, I did something the nurse didn't advise me to do, but I knew it would be well-received by my Dad and he did raise me well. I spotted his pipe and can of tobacco in the floor of the passenger side and before driving over, I took his pipe and filled it up just the way he likes it (you learn a few things being Barbe Cook's daughter). As soon as he was seated and belted in, I handed him his pipe and he broke out into a huge grin and happily accepted it. Hey, who's to say that pipe hasn't added to his incredible quality of life? As my Dad is fond of reminding us, his docs tell him to keep doing what he's doing and part of what he's doing is sucking on that pipe so who am I to argue with that?

After I pulled into the driveway with my parents, my Dad was still a little unsteady on his feet and yet that didn't stop him from trying to help my Mom as she was trying to help him right back. Not only is the 61 plus years they've spent married a precious and much too rare gift to each other, but it's also a gift to those of us who are on the sidelines and see it. It is one of the most life-affirming experiences to be around that marriage of theirs. I vacillate between admiration and envy; usually both at the same time.

As soon as we hit the door, my Dad hit the kitchen and declared his previous 36 hour fast at an end and my Mother was serving up his cereal and pouring coffee in record time as he sat at the dining room table puffing on his ever-present pipe. They were home and life was good. That scene - Mom fussing over breakfast cereal piling on fruit and flakes, the aroma of fresh coffee, the smell of my Dad's pipe as he pores over the newspaper - that's home to me. That's one of the warmest images in my memory bank and it is renewed on such a regular, dependable basis and it's also what is going to make for a very LONG, quiet week!

The "heart(s)" of this home are in Southern West Virginia today, celebrating the 85th birthday of my Dad's brother, as my parents slip into his "home church" and surprise him with a visit he will only find out about when he walks in and sees them. My Dad was so excited to get the "green light" from the doctor and both of them excitedly packed and got things ready Friday Night in sweet anticipation of this visit. Good for them and God bless them both which, honestly, God truly has blessed them and the rest of us a great deal.

"Legal-Ease" and a Rogue, Unrequited Ransom

After I got back home from the clinic, I checked my e-mail and was immediately IM'd by my buddy Jimi who thought it would be a good day for me to pick him up from his law office and head out for lunch. I couldn't think of a good reason not to, so I tossed aside my plans and headed out for Mayfair, Jimi and after a nice tour of his new offices, we planted ourselves at Artisan Cafe for a wonderful lunch. Thanks Jimi! (Photo: Jimi at lunch on Friday, hatching a literary scheme to spend more time at the beach!)

During the course of lunch, we bandied about some writing ideas, as we often do, but this time, Jimi was filled with acerbic inspiration and I laughed through just about all of it, but couldn't help but confirm his brilliance. We hatched a plan and I'm rather excited by the possibilities. Bottom line - he needs more beach time and I just need some money to take me to NYC and visit with Katie - and this seemed to be a very credible portal to get both of us where we want to be! I can't speak further on it because Jimi will kill me and he knows where I live and reads this blog so I have to stop...right...now.

During the course of lunch, my phone rang and it was Katie checking in from Manhattan with her daily "only in New York" update. Jimi answered my cell phone and said, "Katie, this is Jimi - I have your Mom held hostage and the price is $100,000 if you ever want to see her again.". Katie, not missing a beat, advised Jimi just to keep me and good luck with that. She didn't feel it was a good time to try and raise that kind of cash and rather than haggle over large sums of money that she isn't in possession of, she felt it best to just turn me over. No fight, no negotiating, no muss and no fuss. "You keep her, Jimi! Are you sure you've thought this through?". (Photo: Susie & Jimi enjoying lunch at "Artisan Cafe".)

He sadly handed the phone back to me and said, "No dice and no deal.". He was disappointed and I was bereft. She didn't even try and talk him out of it! Best of luck she told him! Geez, thanks a lot Katie!

Oh well, we still came up with a good plan and when we hit it big, there will be no "check is in the mail" for you missy! Your loyalty or lack thereof speaks VOLUMES!

Later in the day when she called me back, she tried to back-pedal and suggest that she was just taking a hard-line and didn't feel like it would benefit me if she "negotiated with terrorists" or some such silliness. Obviously she had reconsidered that such inaction on her part might find her missing in the will which, of course, it would, but I'd had kind of an emotionally-charged day so I bought what she was selling, even though I knew there was nothing substantial about any of it. I surmised it would probably help me sleep better at night to imagine she cared! Ha!

The rest of the evening was spent watching my parents in a flurry of "pre-trip activity" (which was much more fun than the pre-colonoscopy activity), as they were sorting through clothes, medication, and all that goes with two pack-rats preparing to leave for a week and hang out in the wilderness of "Wild, Wonderful West Virginia".

Saturday Morning, they were off. But not before reminding me that Cassie would need extra attention. Check the water dish every day. Don't forget to feed the cats and yes, someone will have to take care of the litter box. Oh, and let Sylvester in at night. Wipe Cassie's paws off if it rains. Give her some "extra" attention because she'll be missing us... (Photo: Cassie trying to cope with the fact that her Granny & Grandpa are on "holiday".)

I finally realized, these are technically MY animals. I thought to myself, "Mom doesn't even like cats and she's advising me on them?". My gosh, what a weird galaxy I live in! Really, I think the animals will fare better than Justin and me.

Breakfast, Lunch or Dinner?

Remember that episode of "The Andy Griffith Show" where Aunt Bea goes out of town for three days and Opie goes on a Boy Scout camping trip and Andy is left alone? He goes out to the grocery store and stocks up on all the things he doesn't normally eat when Aunt Bea is there to cook sensibly and tells Howard Sprague, with glee, that he's going to eat junk, watch TV and live crazy for a couple of days? Of course, everyone knows that Andy can't cook so Howard and his Mom invite Andy for dinner, and on the same night, so does Helen who is also entertaining her uncle from out of town. Goober forgets to tell Andy of the dinner invitations in advance and Andy winds up eating spaghetti two or three times in the course of the same evening...

I get the feeling I'm living THAT episode of "The Andy Griffith Show" and the town is conspiring to make sure I'm well-fed and taken care of and I'm completely grateful, but it's pretty funny. It's just so "Mayberry", so "North Carolina". I love this state. I swear I do.

I got several e-mail invitations for lunch and dinner which is well-appreciated and sweet. Last night, my friend invited me over for dinner - my favorite - spaghetti and salad, but no tea...lemonade.

I was invited by another friend for dinner tonight, but I've had a sinus headache for going on two days now...(a gift from autumn, perhaps?), and I'm going to take two benadryl sinus pills and call myself in the morning. I hated missing out on steak, but I'm also sick of this stupid headache. It's probably "separation anxiety". :-)

I wouldn't be a bit surprised if there's a basket left on my front porch with pre-cooked offerings before the week is out. All I really need is a decent cup of coffee. I can handle it, really. I "do" soup incredibly well and I've always been so gifted at "take-out". I have a few talents, no question about that.

I talked with Katie yesterday after the senior citizens left on their adventure and she listened as I told her how glaringly quiet this house was...."You know, you're going to lose weight this week. You know that, right?". This from the girl who won't pay my ransom.

Yesterday afternoon, I remarked to Justin how quiet it was here. He said, "If you ask me, it's still a little crowded. Can't you go somewhere? You love Europe - I hear it's beautiful this time of year." He did everything but offer to pack my bag and take me to the airport and I know he would probably have done that if he thought it would work. (Photo: Justin standing in Central Park last Labor Day Weekend.)

Such love! Speaking of "going somewhere", Justin is New York City bound at the end of the month. His Dad (Tim) is flying him up to NYC and meeting him there and they're going to hang out with Katie for the weekend. I bet they'll have a blast. I know Katie's looking forward to it! Also a "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" to Tim - I hope you had a great one! PLEASE remind the kids to take PICTURES when you guys are in NYC!!!!!

Click below for a preview of "Stranger Than Fiction"...even though it was released last fall, it's one of my favorite movies. Note to RE...let me know if you like what you see and if you do, you can see more. I have the DVD.

And a special note to my friend, the "good pirate" Bobbi in Raleigh, she wrote me Friday Night and her angst was apparent. I must copy and paste..., "What is wrong? We all stayed on the edge of our computer seats for months (yes, make that four months instead of "for") reading updates of the "Hook or Crook" saga...we need another screenplay to whet our appetites.". I had to break it to her gently that I didn't have any good story lines to toss her way, real or imagined. I mean, other than imminent starvation and possible caffeine deprivation, there's not that much going on 'round here. I had to diplomatically ease her into the cold, hard facts that there are no sailing adventures on the horizon, no tropical storms are forecast and hurricane season will be winding down by the end of November. I may very well close out 2007 un-engaged and unattached. I hang-out with sensible types these days. I do "coffee", "tea' and sometimes I even get "cut-off" from those. I did charge into the surf earlier in the week and the phytoplankton was lovely, but it washed away with the waves.