DISCLAIMER: I'm human, and I like to talk about it.
Well guys, tonight is not shaping up to be a good night in my little corner of the world. Not only does this Tuesday mark the last evening of my beloved sewing class--but we're also expecting our first snowfall of the season.
I know what you're thinking--Amy, you live in Maine. What do you expect?
Well, I expect the global warming crisis to do a little something in my favor. That's what I expect.
But woe-is-freaking-me, it still snows in October, it's still pitch black by four o'clock in the afternoon, and despite my religious leanings, I still have to fight the urge to drink a heavy-handed Jack n' Coke with every single meal and snack.
That, my friends, is no joke--just ask Jared.
I'm the Mormon who literally salivates when we drive past a liquor store.
I'm the girl who will stop a stranger at a dinner-party and politely say, "Excuse me Ma'am, but would you mind if I took a quick sniff of that cosmopolitan you're holding?"
And, of course, I am the wife who, from the months of November through April, gets angry with my husband every single night. When he asks the inevitable question: Amy, why are you mad at me now? I give the inevitable answer: Because I STILL don't understand why we can't be Methodists. They can drink, Jared! THEY CAN DRINK ALL THEY WANT!
Oh, and just an FYI--so can Lutherans, Catholics, Congregationalists, Jews, Episcopalians, etc. And seriously guys, I would be honored to be a member of any one of those fine religions.
So. Guess what's moving in right next door to Jared's office? Seriously--just guess.
That's right, a high class martini bar.
This has made me inordinately cranky. From time to time, the owner will pop into our office and ask me a silly question like, "Hey, when you have a minute can you stop over and taste a sample of our new chocolate martini?"
And I'm like, "No Patrick, I'm sorry, I can't. But if you ever need a taste-tester for your chocolate milk, you just let me know. I do apple juice, too."
But in the end, this is all up to me. I chose not to drink--partly based on my religious convictions, and partly due to the fact that I know I'd transform myself into a public spectacle within thirty non-sober days. Just ask my college roommates.
So that's that--I will muscle my way through this winter with out so much as a swig of Sam Adams or a luscious little dribble of wine-in-a-box. It's just me, some strength from the scriptures, and a little orange bottle of anti-depressants (with three refills).
Bring it on, winter! Bring. It. On.