The Pioneers

Here's a website about the show I'm reviewing in this blog.

http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/channel/the-pioneers/

Last night I discovered a TV “reality” show called The Pioneers, where 4 couples go out into the wilds of SD and try to live like their settler ancestors.   PBS did a show like this years ago and I really enjoyed it so I was excited to watch.  The PBS show producers were real sticklers about trying to stay within historical parameters and actually graded the cast at the end of the show as to how well they immersed themselves into the period.  I thought this show would be the same.  I was horribly wrong.

Now I’m watching and looking for the flaws.  There have been many.  I watched 4 episodes last night.  Says something about the other programming options for the evening doesn’t it?

I believe they put these folks out there, for reals, but many of the supposed obstacles they come across seemed so terribly, painfully staged!

One of the first ones was a big cottonwood tree lying across the route they wanted to take.  Their Lakota Indian guide was going on about how it wasn’t there before so it must have just come down!  I’m looking at its bleached, leafless hulk and thinking this tree has been down for freaking years, dude.  K

I’ve already become annoyed by some earlier things like a pokey goat that they all wanted to leave behind after about an hour of walking - I’m watching this wondering WTF these people are doing on this show anyway if they can’t handle walking with a goat on a leash for an hour or two?  Way to commit to the 3 month experience folks.  K

Anyway, back to the tree obstacle.  They spend a lot of time debating how to get around this tree.  I grew up in ND.  It’s not terribly different from SD.  I have NEVER, in my entire life, come across a tree I could not get around.  K

Guess what the solution was?  Dynamite. 

You heard me.  I said dynamite.  Turns out one of the dudes decided he needed to bring dynamite along as one of his personal items.  REALLY???  I’m trying to wrap my head around why anyone would decide that they needed to bring dynamite along on a 3 month trek to dig out and build a sod house and try to live on the SD prairie for 3 months?

That’s when I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that this show was bogus. 

Anyway.  The plan was to tie this dynamite to a tree and then step back and shoot it to ignite it.  K  This apparently took hours because in the shot where he’s tying it it’s daylight but by the time he steps back to shoot it, it’s dusk and he needs lanterns (he didn’t really and yes they would be blown up too) and then he shoots.  They show the shot hit right as the dynamite blows.  The tree hadn’t budged in that shot that I saw.  I was thinking how they’d put the dynamite in a stupid location on the tree and it had failed.  Then they cut to another shot showing the miraculous results where the end of the tree has been blown completely off and is still smoking!  It’s…gasp… it’s a miracle!  Let us pray.   (I think the production staff worked hard to chainsaw that off and then burn it until it didn’t look chainsawed anymore and they did it as fast as their little selves could scramble – praise be!)

Sigh.

By this point I was sucked in.  I knew this was fake.  In a way.  I’m kind of sure they sleep outside like a camping trip.  Kind of. 

EXCEPT.  They broke their wagon and had to stay the night despite the suspect TNT action on the tree.  The next morning when they were all rolling out of bed and carrying on about getting ready to roll I’m noticing the sun position and thinking is it like noon??  Did they actually sleep until noon??  It looked like it was closer to lunch time than morning light wise.  Somehow I’m not buying into the faux waking up scenes.  I know what morning looks like. 

Anyway, their Indian guide leads them on towards their homestead.  Let me mention that in episode 1 the narrator said it was a 2 day trip.  In episode 2 it was magically a 3 day trip.  Editing people.  Pay attention!  I know you really wanted to blow something up to try to create some interest but pay attention to some of the details ok?

They are going on and on about how they are so grateful for their Indian guide leading them across the plains to their new home.  They never would have found the way without him!  K  I’m looking at it and they are clomping down a rutted dirt road.  Yeah.  I need a guide for that.  Too hard to follow a road without a guide.  I call it Indian GPS.  No, I’m not PC.

They come to a barbed wire fence delineating the border of the Standing Rock Indian Reservation, where the rest of the show will take place.  Their GPS asks them if they’re sure they want to continue.  It’s been a day or two and the cast debates if they can take anymore because this has been so much harder than they’d expected.  (really?)  I swear they never would tolerate a camping trip with me!  No makeup, tents but KOA because I do enjoy a daily shower on the road and the one in Rapid City has free pancakes!  But shit, if they can’t take riding in a wagon for 2 days???

Gutsy folk that they are, they decide to cross the barbed wire border into Standing Rock. 

They have drama there, their GPS leaves them.  They celebrate how they made it just like their ancestors!  HUZZAH!  Oh wait.  Their ancestors actually went longer than 3 days and didn’t have a tap out option and actually were committed to their trip so…

They have to go down a hill with their overloaded wagons.  One tips over.  Expected.  Not bad.  Until later that night…

They are sitting around the campfire, singing songs with their guitar (luckily there always seems to be someone who can play and carry a tune in a bunch like this instead of talentless and tone deaf singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall).  Suddenly a couple trucks with headlights come tearing down, driving in fast circles around the camp and the cast grabs their guns to face down these intruders.  The cameras get shut off as they discuss land lease agreements. 

When the truck drivers leave one of the couples decides this has all been too terrifying and it’s time to drop out of the show. 

Wow.

Aside:  Have I mentioned that I grew up in Mandan, ND?  I’m familiar with Standing Rock.  I grew up just north of it.  I’m sorry but I just have a really hard time believing that the folks at Standing Rock would decide to wait until dark to check out intruders on their land and that they would go in and peel around in their trucks in an aggressive manner if they didn’t know what was going on there.  In fact, I really don’t believe that would ever actually happen.  I think that entire scenario was staged. 

Sigh.

And on to building the sod house.  Let me just say these people dig like mo-fo’s!  Looked like someone dug the 6’ pit out with a backhoe but nope, it was just these guys and they weren’t even dirty or anything!  No complaints of blisters on their hands or sore backs or anything!  It’s miraculous.  Let us pray.

The womenfolk go hunting for food.  After about 5 hrs they shoot a rabbit.  This I believe really happened because man, they shot the hell out of that rabbit’s back!  I mean, his spine was mostly gone!  No neat little shot with a 22…they almost blew that thing in half!  THAT was real.  Hell yeah!  Messy as hell!  The womenfolk killed a rabbit and then one even did the obligatory cry about it.  Because women always cry when a bunny is killed. 

Then the rains came.  And the flash flood. 

There are so many, many things I question about this flash flood. 

1.  When you need to supposedly escape a potential flash flood and get to higher ground as fast as you can, why on earth would you cut all of the horses loose, slap them on their asses and set them free???  Wouldn’t it make more sense to ride them up the hill?  I would ride them up the hill.  JS.
2. When you get a little bit of water in your wagon because of a downpour you suddenly decide you must leave said wagon and race for higher ground. 
3. Whose bright idea was it to put the lumber for the sod house there?  Faking a flood is rather difficult to do but…
4. The storm was so bad they had to shut off the cameras.  Amazingly the next morning, the cast looked clean, neat and dry.  How is that possible when they left the wagon to go out in the rain in the middle of the night with no shelter?  They should have been a muddy mess!  Oh, and no one complained about being exhausted from lack of sleep.  I watch Survivor.  I watch the crying, shivering and carrying on that goes on during rainstorms on Survivor.  I’ve camped in rain – you don’t touch the sides of your tent during rain – seriously!  All of this makes me very suspicious.  I’m thinking there was an RV somewhere they all hung out in.
5. They couldn’t have staged a flash flood could they?

Once again they all debated if they were going to call it off.  Then they decide that this is all part of the experience and they’ll tough it out.  And by tough it out they’ll run for the hidden RV during the next flash flood.

I can’t prove the existence of this hidden RV but I believe it exists.

Will I watch another episode?  Maybe.  If I don’t forget about this show by next Tuesday. 

 

Things I learned when I had my colonoscopy...

I turned 50 earlier this year (I'm now teetering on the brink of 51).  As a reward I enjoyed the colonoscopy right of passage.  Now I am officially...well something.  Someone who had a colonoscopy.

There was some good information out there on the internet.  It's not something a lot of people want to talk about.  I'm a bit embarrassed to be talking about it but since I was so curious about some things that I didn't have answers to I feel it's worthwhile to write a few of the things I learned going thru the experience.

Here's some of what I learned.  I hope it helps if you're heading into your own right of passage event!

1) I learned that there is a lot of twisted humor about colonoscopies when I was trying to learn about them.  Savor those cartoons.  Use them during the tough times to keep yourself feeling upbeat about the process.  Just do NOT laugh!  There are certain times when laughing will be a horrible idea!

2)  There are websites that rate the softness of toilet paper.  For reals!  They use a grading scale.  I went out and got some good stuff.  Rated A- which was the highest rated I saw on the one site.

3)  It doesn't matter how soft your toilet paper is or if you have flushable wipes.  Your butt is going to be sore.  You will truly dread the next touch of your super soft toilet paper.  It will happen.  It didn't even take that long for it to happen.

4)  The stuff they give you liquefies everything in your gut.  (Note: The stuff doesn't taste bad but you have to drink a LOT of it - you'll be so full you'll kind of forget that you haven't eaten for a long time.)  You aren't pooping, you're peeing out of your butt like a whale venting its blowhole after a deep dive.

5)  Based on #4, do NOT take phone calls during this phase.  It's hard to explain why you threw the phone across the room when you were sprinting to the bathroom.  Plan to be incommunicado.  Texts are accepted.  They can be answered without offense and at your leisure.

6)  Don't go more than 4-5 steps away from the bathroom.  If you feel the slightest urge to go, MOVE.  Get yourself to that toilet!  I'm not kidding about this.  You'll have almost no warning before all hell breaks loose!  Another tip...don't put down the toilet lid.  Bending over to flip it up could end in disaster.

What's wrong with this picture?  Toilet lid is down.  BAD IDEA!

7) This will continue, to some extent, all night long.  It does settle down some after a few hours but sleep lightly.  Don't trust a fart.  Put this into your head before you go to sleep.  People fart in their sleep.  This is a bad idea!  Remember, you can sleep deeply later.  You don't want to be changing bedding during this phase.  Bending over to unmake/make the bed is not a good idea!

8)  You could wake up the morning thinking..."I'm empty, whew".  Then you'll take the next bottle of stuff they gave you (which tastes kind of indescribable) and you'll find out you weren't empty.

9)  Follow directions about when to stop drinking water and when to take your meds and you will get to the point where you're ok to travel to your appt.  If you're like me tho, you'll no longer trust any sense of pressure in your nethers and will want to bolt for the nearest bathroom at a moments notice.  You will be scoping for bathrooms on the way to check-in.  Your body may or may not finally knock it off despite these urges.  Mine kept going.  I mentioned this to the nurse...how I felt the urge but nothing was happening.  Her response was that my "colon was irritated".  Ya think??

10)  The stuff they give you to help you relax for the actual test works pretty nice!  I didn't sleep - I got to see my insides - it was kind of cool - I was stoned at the time.  I don't remember feeling even slightly embarrassed about what was going on behind me.  I was just watching the zooming around going on the screen in front of me.  It seemed like they were zooming around in there.  I watched them snip a polyp, saw it bleed a little and thought wow, that didn't even hurt!  There are times when being drugged is good.

Afterward my son took me home.  I don't think I acted weird or anything.  My tummy was aching a bit from being so empty.  I couldn't wait to go home and eat.  I was surprised at how little it took to make me feel better so I could sleep.  I had banana bread, a little applesauce and a tiny Cherry Garcia ice cream.  Then I slept really good for a while!!

11)  You might get a nice bruise from your IV to prove you suffered.  Sadly most people don't seem notice hands so they won't be exclaiming about your poor hand or giving you any sympathy about it.  It's rather pitiful to go around pointing it out tho I'll admit I did point it out to one person at least.  If no one sees your IV bruise, was it really there?

12)  The next morning was a little weird.  My tummy was rumbling and working on that food I'd eaten the night before.  It was loud and rowdy like it was having a party or something!  It scared me after my recent experiences.  Luckily it settled down and got back to normal after a few hours.

The main thing I wondered about was how long would the poop fest last.  Well, in summary, all night and into the next day with short breathers here and there.  Do NOT trust a fart!!  There is no such thing as a fart during this process.The good news, it's pretty much done after the exam.  Still, fart with caution for a while.  I said "pretty much done", not 100% done.

Another thing was would I be embarrassed during the exam?  Nope.  I was somewhat high and didn't care one bit!  Surprisingly, I still don't!

There are worse things in life I've been thru but I could happily go the rest of my life without doing this again.  I didn't like it.  Since they found polyps guess who gets to do this again in 5 years?

Bleah.

The fudge that became my obsession, owned me, beat me down and that I finally made my bitch!

This is me.  I'm saying FUCK YEAH whilst I enjoy a glass o' vino in celebration of my bitchifying of the Buttermilk Pecan fudge.  OH YEAH!!  

<Deep sigh of contentment>

I'm writing this blog so I remember how I did this for future reference.  If you choose to take up this fudge challenge, may it help you enjoy success rather than delicious failure.

I first made this fudge last year for a family get together.  I doubled the recipe, followed the directions but the fudge wasn't fudge-like so I added powdered sugar.  It was delicious!  My only complaint was the texture.  Adding the powdered sugar changed it to a somewhat gritty fudge and I assumed made it sweeter than it was originally intended to be.  I'd always assumed the recipe failed because I'd done a double batch.  Little did I know that it failed because I followed the directions too closely!

http://www.lottieanddoof.com/2014/03/buttermilk-pecan-fudge/

http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/pecan-buttermilk-fudge

Here are a couple links to the recipe.  It seems basic and simple.  It is, in a way.  The main message I need to give tonight is that you should NOT follow the time frames listed on the recipe.  IGNORE THE TIME FRAMES!!  If you follow them, your fudge will not turn out.  You will get delicious goo.  I know.  I got delicious goo by following the directions.

Ingredients:

1 C pecans

2 C sugar (white)

1 C buttermilk

1/2 C (1 stick) unsalted butter - cut into pieces 

(unsalted is important - you want control over the salt for this)

1 T honey

1/4 t kosher salt

Flaky sea salt (I used Fleur de Sel)

You'll need a candy thermometer.

Preparation:

Preheat over to 350

Line 9" x 5 " loaf pan with tin foil (works better than parchment paper)

Step 1:

Toast pecans for 8-10 minutes until they smell good and are slightly darkened.  This time frame is good to follow.  I burned them once because I wasn't paying attention.  They aren't cheap.

Remove from the oven and let them cool while you move on to the next step.

Step 2:  

Put your butter pieces, sugar, kosher salt, honey and buttermilk into a heavy bottom sauce pan.  This will boil up so don't use a small sauce pan.  It needs room!  It shouldn't be giant either.  Use some sense.  

Step 3: 

Heat over med-high heat until butter/sugar is melted.  Fit sauce pan with candy thermometer.  Bring mixture to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally until thermometer measures 238-240, otherwise known as soft ball stage.  The mixture will have darkened a bit to a pale gold and will no longer smell like melted butter but more like toffee.  

Cook it until it hits soft ball stage.  This will take a while.  Ignore the recipe directions.  Just keep going until you get there.  

* It's very important to test for soft ball stage.  Get a glass of cold water and dribble a little bit of the candy into it.  Here's how I do it...reach into the water and grab a bit of the candy.  If you can't grab it because it dissolves, it's not ready.  You should be able to touch it and have it hold some level of form that you can squish or roll between your fingers.  As soon as it does that, remove from heat.  

If you let it go too long it will hit hard ball stage and your fudge will be brittle instead of creamy.  You need to be watching and testing every few seconds.  You don't want to miss the right timing!  I've failed enough, resulting in goo (temp too low) and crumbles (temp too high).  

See how the thermometer has soft ball and hard ball stages noted?  I went to a notch over soft ball before it was actually soft ball.

Step 4:

Pour the candy into your mixing bowl.  Using a paddle attachment begin beating.  I work my way up for speed.  The directions say to beat on med-high speed.  Last time I tried that right out of the gate it was splattering all over the place.  238 degree liquid candy isn't all the fun to have splattering all over the place!  So I work my way up.  It won't take long and you'll get to the med-high speed.  You want that speed.  You're adding air into the mixture and cooling it off.  

pale gold color, smell has changed from buttery to more toffee-like, tho not strong

Step 5:

Wait. 

I hope you have a kitchen-aid or you are not going to enjoy this part!

You should rough chop the cooled pecans since you have some time.

Still glossy and gooey here but starting to change

It changed!  It became matte instead of glossy and stopped being goo!

Step 6:

After what seems like a long time (ignore the recipe directions - don't stop beating it until it changes its shine and consistency) suddenly your fudge should change from shiny and gooey to matte and stiff/semi-creamy.  It's done!  Take a sturdy spoon as the mixture will be thick and fold in the pecans.  

Step 7:  

Put fudge into prepared loaf pan and press into shape.  Once it is spread out and smoothed, sprinkle some of the flower of the sea (fancy salt) over the top.  Use your fingers and don't coat it.  Just a sprinkle but you want a sprinkle on every bite!

The fudge in this picture stayed gooey and didn't set up.  You can see how it looks shiny.  It's not supposed to be shiny.
BUT you can see the fancy salt I used for topping!

This is the successful batch, cooling.  It makes me happy :)

Step 8:  

Let it set up for an hour, use the foil to remove from pan and cut up.  You now have some wonderful, tangy, sweet and salty and non-chocolate fudge to savor!  

It really is delicious!  I have an addiction!  And now I have a record of how I did it!

Happy Halloween!

Why do I always conveniently forget how uncomfortable Halloween face makeup is when worn for hours and hours?

Today has been another Halloween adventure.

This morning I gave that zipper makeup kit the hairy eyeball.  I’ll be honest with you.  I really wasn’t in the mood to do this today.  I pondered and then thought oh hell, you spend $13 on it and it’s not like you can use it for something else so put the damned thing on!

So I did.

It was a process.  Spirit glue is a tacky beast to work with!  I got it on and then glued up the zipper and got it all into place and had to hold it for a bit and then wanted to see if it was setting up and discovered that parts of the zipper were stuck to my hands better than my face.  Finally got things where I wanted them (mostly). 

I was still holding the part down that wrapped around my lower jaw and noticed that I’d gone off pattern a bit.  I’d outlined the zipper locations with eyeliner so I’d know where to put the glue when the zipper was off.  I had black eyeliner marks showing on my chin.  I didn’t want black eyeliner marks on my chin! 

So I’m holding the zipper on with one hand and trying to scrub off the eyeliner marks with the other and it wasn’t going well because I’d covered it with glue and the glue was keeping everything in place and my fingers were sticky etc.  So I grabbed a cotton pad. 

Yeah, sometimes I’m a moron. 

When you are battling to remove glue from your face when you have glue on your fingers you should NEVER grab a cotton pad! 

So I end up with black eyeliner pencil marks and sticky glue AND cotton fuzz stuck on my chin at the bottom of the zipper.  I did manage to get some of the mess off.  Luckily I don’t think anyone really noticed because of the other mess I put on my face after I got the zipper attached.

I finished applying the makeup and let my hair out of the hair band and it promptly became stuck in a gob in the “bloody scab” on my face.  I managed to pick it out of the “scab” and get it back into a pony tail to give the “scab” time to set up. 

I slapped on my glasses and off I went to work!

So I get to work and by this time everything is setting up.  It’s starting to feel like a real scab in that it’s stiff and makes my face move weirdly.  I let the hair out of the pony and it doesn’t stick.  YAY!

A co-worker stops by to admire my work and I decide to take my glasses off so he can see how cool it is and I discover that my glasses are stuck to the zipper on my face. 

Gosh this is fun!

Well I’m enjoying having my makeup job be admired and such.  It’s a slow day at work for me because I’m waiting to get something back from the TX office.  There’s a dessert contest going on at work so I decide to go take pictures of the desserts before they get eaten. 

Lots of cute desserts!  There’s a cake with pretty frosting that looks delicious.  I take my shot and start to put the lid back on the pan.  The lid has, like, lips on it that wrap around the rim of the pan and it’s not going on smoothly so I think that maybe it’s supposed to slide on from one end?  So I begin to slide it on and quickly realize that is NOT how it’s supposed to go on because now I’ve just peeled the frosting off the top of the cake!! 

Guilt, remorse, kicking myself for being a moron (I’m on a roll today). 

Since the desserts are unidentified I don’t know who made it so I send a message out to the whole office admitting that I’m the fiend who hosed up the frosting on the cake.  I offer to eat any and all damaged pieces as penance for my sin.

I did vote for that cake, and not out of guilt, but because, HOLY CRAP!  It was delicious!

my lunch

Now it's over.  I'm sitting here with a naked face.  IT FEELS SO GOOD!!!

Happy Halloween!

From the unzipped moron.

Was I born this way? Some people make me realize I'm a curmudgeon.

This morning I'm sitting in my office, feeling hunger pangs in my tummy.  I feel cranky because yesterday I didn't even need breakfast and no breakfast = less calories taken in for the day.  I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself, wishing I could have a breakfast that was worth eating.  Something I'd enjoy, instead of a coffee cup full of instant oatmeal to make my tummy shut up.


Then my co-worker waltzes by and sings ♫ Good Morning ♫ to me.


She does this every morning.  And from what I can hear, she only does it to me.  I'm not the only person here...others are by her desk and yet, it's just me.  Why?


I am an early riser but I'm not a chipper, happy, sunshiny early riser.  In fact I'm rather sullen.  So why does she persist in singing good morning to me each morning?  Does she think I'll change? 


I sometimes try to respond but it comes out in something of a croak.  I'm not a big morning talker. 


Compared to a lot of people I know I'm on the anti-social side of the spectrum.  I'm weirdly content to be left alone most of the time.  I've always been that way. 


My parents used to lock me outside to try to force me to play with the neighbor kids.  They are social creatures and felt that somehow I was missing out on life by not being more sociable.  I preferred to sit in my room and read or play with toys by myself a good portion of the time.  I actually did have a bunch of friends in the neighborhood but I also have always enjoyed my own company and need plenty of alone time.  People stress me out!


I'm an introvert.  I'm not one who shyly looks at her shoes when she talks to people.  I think that's the classic image people have of introverts.  I'm not like that at all!  But I do need "down time" from the social aspect of life and lots of it.  It's like recharging batteries.  If I don't get down time I can become incredibly stressed, restless and emotional. 


Growing up in a large family I learned to zone in and zone out.  If I wanted to read I would zone in on the subject and zone out all extraneous distractions.  I did it so well it was like waking up to come out of it to talk to people.  Sometimes it would take them several attempts to break through.  I can focus like a madman!  When I do this I sometimes jump out of my skin when someone unexpectedly breaks through into my zone. 


Anyway...


I feel bad for my morning butterfly because I don't like being fake and if I'm not in the mood to sing back ♫ Good Morning ♫ it's not gonna happen.  I haven't felt the compulsion to sing it back yet though I have attempted to do more than croak an inarticulate response to her as she flits by.


She doesn't appear to be bothered by any of this.  She persists. 


Maybe it doesn't matter. 

My name is Glenna. I’m not an alcoholic.

It’s weird to say that.  I spent many years in AA meetings saying the opposite. 

I stopped drinking at age 16 and maintained my sobriety until my mid-40’s. 

I entered Heartview Treatment Center when I was 16.  I’d been a binge drinker.  I remember (sort of) my last big hurrah.  Some classmates and I skipped out of school and went to a friend’s house to drink.  I recall drinking some hard liquor out of those tall metal glasses some folks used to have.  They curved out at the lip and were colored?  They were super cold to the touch and looked rather pretty with the condensation running down the sides.  But I digress.  I ingested a lot of booze that day.  Couldn’t tell you how much.  It was a long damn time ago! 

Then we went driving around.  More proof that teenagers are brilliant and should be allowed to make decisions for themselves. 

I was a passenger.  The world was fuzzy.  We went to the arcade next to Century High School, the school I’d been attending since my Mom had gotten remarried.  (To a man I loathed but that’s another story.)  I was a sophomore. 

Anyway, at the arcade I recall that I was shooting pool and some smart ass guy decided to get friendly with my backside with a pool cue when I was bending over so I spun around and tried to cold cock him upside the head with my cue and fell into a pile of stacked chairs.  Then I staggered into the bathroom to throw up.  There's another semi-long story about this but I'm going to skip it.  This is going to be a long post as it is.

I wandered over to the school for a ride home on the bus but I’d missed the bus.  The place we lived was maybe a mile or so north of Century if I hiked across the fields.  It was winter and lots of snow on the ground.  I’d been wearing clogs that day and they wouldn’t stay on my feet so I hiked part of the way thru the snow in the fields in my stocking feet.  I discussed this post recently with my sister and Dad and she gave me a good replica of our mother's "look" over that one.  Things were fuzzy so I couldn’t say how much of the hike was made in stocking feet but no frostbite at least.

I made it home and things get really fuzzy from this point…I think I was trying to make some toast and my siblings decided they had to get my downstairs to hide my drunken ass from Mom and Dennis (pig/step-dad).  I think I threatened my sister with a knife.  She doesn't recall that but I have a recollection of us in the basement...she was by the stairs and I was near my room so at least I wasn't in her face.  I carried a knife back then.  It even had a name.  My siblings will know exactly what I'm talking about.  It was a semi-pussy knife since it wasn't a switchblade but it was long and had a point and people never seemed to notice that I carried it in my back pocket.  I wasn’t the sweetest tempered kid walking the planet. 

After that I really couldn’t say what happened.  I had a blackout.  My Mom told me later that she and Dennis took turns keeping a vigil to keep me out of the knife drawer.  

Did I mention I was a troubled kid with some issues?

All this went over like a ton of lead with my Mom.  Can’t say as I blamed her one bit BUT when she and Dennis and some other guy sat me down and told me they were checking me into Heartview Treatment Center I went into a cold rage.  I think it was some sort of an intervention though I had no say in anything.   In reality the extra guy was so that they'd have grown men on either side of me in the back seat, to stop me from bolting out of the car on the way to the jitter joint.  

I did 6 weeks in Heartview.  It was an awakening. 

In Heartview my horizons expanded.  I got counseling.  I began to examine my life and the things that made me tick and started to become self aware in a way I never had before.   I realized my life could be different.

I made friends that WEREN’T in high school.  Adults, people from other states and countries. (well Canada, but still…)  People that I respected, who were impressed with me and told me so.  My life up to that point hadn’t had much of that.  I was something of a misfit in school.  I was awkward, an introvert and I had a major chip on my shoulder so I wasn’t exactly an approachable person.  I was failing to live up to the expectations of my family.   Having all these new people in my life who thought highly of me really changed how I saw myself.  My confidence and self esteem rose dramatically.

Heartview was good for me.  REALLY good for me!  It was probably the most important thing that ever happened to me. 

Before Heartview I didn’t expect to live past the age of 18.  Don’t ask me why but I really didn’t.  

Before Heartview I was a kid who was headed down a bad road.  I can't imagine where I’d be today if not for that intervention.   It completely changed the direction of my life.  I’m not exaggerating in the slightest on this point either.  I give that place credit for the fact that I am now a reasonably sensible, responsible adult who contributes to society, pays her taxes and values her family above all else. 

For the next almost 30 years I didn’t touch a drop.  Well except for once.   New Year’s Eve, the year 2000.  I had 2 sips of champagne at the comedy club my husband Mike and I had gone to for the evening.  I wanted to be like everyone else for the changing of the century. 

After that I wondered why I didn’t care if I drank again.  Because I didn’t.  I'd thought I would want to drink.  Instead I felt "meh" about the whole thing.  I felt no pull towards the booze.  I thought it was strange but I liked my life as it was so decided it didn’t matter and went on with it.

Years later, after Mike and I had divorced, Ben, my youngest, was grown but still living at home, I went thru what I think of as a serious mid-life, semi-empty nest crisis.  I was in my mid-40’s. 

I didn’t know who I was anymore since I didn’t need to be Mom/provider/teacher to my kids as I had been previously.  My identity had been so tied up in setting an example and taking care of them for so long that I became lost when that role basically disappeared.  I had done my job well and they were self sufficient people, going out and living their own lives and making their own decisions.  Now I was just me and I wasn’t really sure what the purpose was in that.

I had another key moment during this time frame when I was hanging out with my friend Cheryl, whom I’ve known since kindergarten.  We were talking and she said how she always wondered if I was really an alcoholic and I admitted I’d wondered about that too sometimes because I’d never felt it difficult to put a cork in the bottle, so to speak.  I’d hear people talk about how hard it was to resist drinking but I never felt that way.  Anyway, she mentioned how she’d felt bad not inviting me to various get togethers because there would be booze there and she didn’t want to make me uncomfortable. 

I remember going home that night thinking about that.  Thinking about being an outsider.  I always have been in many ways but that was another one.  I didn’t drink.  After almost 30 years of sobriety, trust me, I knew I was different and that most drinkers never did seem to feel comfy around someone who didn’t join in.  They’d prefer I wasn’t around.  I was a drag to them.  They thought I was judging them.  Since I wasn’t all that crazy about dealing with drunk ass people I tended to agree.  At the same time, I admitted I was tired of being an outsider in so many ways. 

In fact I just read an article on this subject!  Click this link if you want to read it yourself.  http://www.cracked.com/blog/4-harmless-personality-traits-were-all-embarrassed-about_p2/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=fanpage&utm_campaign=new+article&wa_ibsrc=fanpage

These 4 harmless personality traits we’re all embarrassed about are summarized as follows:

1. Not Drinking
2. Not liking spicy food
3. Not wanting to talk about sex
4. Loneliness

Here is the section on Not Drinking (by C. Coville)

#1. Not Drinking

People in today's society enjoy social activities that our ancestors would never have dreamed of. If you tell people you spent last Saturday night at a gay bar, that's cool with everyone. Even if you tell people that it was a gay bar for people who enjoy The Walking Dead, most people will still be on board. But if you were at that gay bar and you weren't drinking? That's getting kind of weird, dude. Any long-term non-drinker will tell you that informing people of one's teetotaling habits in a bar is often received as well as a yarmulke at an ISIS party. After all, you're in a bar. Why else would anyone go to a bar if not to drink? To talk to other people? Ha!

I think non-drinkers get this reaction because they make the people around them feel guilty. Your average drinker is out somewhere to relax and intoxicate himself, and then all of a sudden there's a non-drinker in his face, gearing up (he assumes) to silently judge his deteriorating drunken antics with a non-drunk, terrifyingly clear brain. There's a good chance that this drinker had already started imbibing when his friend declined a drink, which means his inhibitions are lowered, and the little angel on his shoulder that usually slams his jaw closed when he's about to say something rude has gone off to get a gin and tonic. So instead of simply saying "Oh" and changing the subject to how much he hates The Walking Dead like a normal person, he'll instead try to push alcohol on the non-drinker like the bad guy in a high school PSA.

And it's not like the non-drinker can always just explain their reasons for not consuming alcohol. Not everyone wants to talk about personal issues with people they don't know that well, especially if they involve something serious like a history of addiction or a medical problem. Talking about that stuff is difficult at the best of times, and it's a billion times more so when you're surrounded by uninhibited drunk people. Non-drinkers have not only been cursed with a preference that attracts the opinions of insecure assholes, and they've been cursed with a preference that almost exclusively comes up in the environment most conducive to those people being assholes. It's enough to drive you to ... glare really hard at people over your glass of diet soda, I guess.

See?  I’m not making this up!  It’s even written about and I know exactly what this writer is talking about!

By this time I hadn’t attended an AA meeting in maybe 20 years.  Pretty much since I’d moved to MN.  I didn’t feel like I fit in anymore.  I tried going a few times because I felt like I should and I’d listen to the stories but they didn’t fit me.  I wasn’t connecting.  I wasn’t having trouble resisting the drink.  I simply wasn’t having the issues they were.  I was quite self aware and in control of my life.  Well…as much control as any person can have when raising 3 independent, energetic, occasionally bratty kids.  For the most part, things were going pretty smoothly.   There wasn't a lot of drama.

Over the years, the legs were being knocked out of the theories that had “proven” I was an alcoholic from a family of addicts.  My other family members still drank a bit but certainly weren’t acting like addicts.  They had gotten a grip on their own demons and left the abusive behavior behind them.

I remember when I finally decided to try having a drink. 

I remember that I’d bought a Mike’s Hard Lemonade 6 pack at the grocery store.  I didn’t know any better!  I started soft. 

Anyway, I sat there for the longest time debating if I really wanted to change a lifestyle of almost 30 years of not drinking.  It was part of my identity…this not drinking.  I sat a long time.  What tipped me over the edge?   I needed to know the truth.  I was ready to take the risk to find out the truth.  Was I really an alcoholic?  I didn’t feel like I fit that.  I hadn’t felt like I fit that description for a very long time. 

Then I did it.  Took that drink.  And then thought, well, that was anti-climactic.  And it was. 

It’s been a few years since that moment.  Life has gone on without any major upheavals.  Now it’s a nice addition to my life and while I enjoy a drink now and again, I don’t drink much because it’s fattening, expensive and mostly because I’m usually not in the mood to.  I'm very aware of how it can go wrong and also very aware that self medicating is an utterly pointless endeavor.

This brings me to the crux of the issue I wanted to write about. 

It has been difficult for me to admit that I drink.  Not because of shame but because, during my years in AA they talked about how there was no cure.  I agree with that.  I wasn’t cured.  I was never an alcoholic.

Problem is, by admitting all this, I’m a threat to recovering addicts.  I don’t want to be but I am. 

I was misdiagnosed.  I was a troubled kid who abused alcohol but I'm not an alcoholic. 

On the one hand, I’m very glad for the misdiagnosis because walking away from self medication and getting counseling was vital for me to change my life and live it in a better way.  It enabled me to be the best Mom I could be to my kids and to raise them with a clear head.  I learned to cope with life without using booze for a crutch.  I came to grips with the troubles of my past and learned to find the upside to all of it.  There was actually a HUGE upside!  I learned to enjoy life without alcohol.  I’ve spent most of my adult life NOT drinking and I think that’s been a very good thing for me. 

I have no regrets about the misdiagnosis.  It made my life better than it would have been. 

On the other hand, the people who’ve thought of me as an alcoholic for all these years have struggled somewhat with the change.  My Mother gives me the “look” when I’d have a beer with my brother in law at a family get together.  Not so much anymore at least but I tend not to have a beer in front of her anymore just to save her and myself the discomfort. 

I did recently admit this to a relative who has been in recovery for years and they promptly unfriended me on Facebook.  A close relative that I had a close childhood relationship with!  It was hurtful but I have to acknowledge that I am a threat to their sobriety and that’s more important than my hurt feelings.

If I’d mention having a drink on Facebook, some of my friends would comment that they were sorry to hear that.  Like, by having that drink, I was ruining my life.  Trust me, got the subtext.

I, myself, have felt leery about admitting it because I’ve been afraid some of my old friends or people I know who are in recovery that I don’t even know about, might think they should try drinking/using because of my story and possibly meet with disaster.   I’d hate to give someone who is an addict the idea that they should use again and it’ll be ok.  It might not be! 

I guess I'll put a challenge out on this thought.  If you think this is some sort of loophole then I'd say you have to do like I did and stay sober for AT LEAST 29-30 years, to learn how to live without chemicals to cope and THEN decide if it's worth it to take the risk.  29-30 years.  That's a long time to learn how to live with a clear head.  It will change you.  It's what I did.  I don't think I was an addict to start with but if you want to use my story as an excuse then REALLY use it.  Don't be a pussy...stay sober for 29-30 years.  

I have hidden my drinking, not from shame, but partially from worry about its potential negative impact on others and partially because I have not wanted people to worry about me or think badly of me after all the years of them thinking of me as a recovering alcoholic. 

I have fallen off the proverbial wagon but it’s been more like stepping off a curb.  The landing has been low impact.  Except for some of the folks that have known me all these years.  That has sometimes been rocky. 

It’s not easy to change.  There can be a cost to it.  It can hurt.  In the end, despite the alienation of at least one relative, I can’t say I regret it.  I’ve learned more about the truth of myself.  I saw myself a certain way for almost 30 years and then found out that part of what I thought was wrong. 

In the end it wasn’t as traumatic as I thought it might be.  What I had gained from the error was too vast to have any regret.  While I learned that I hadn’t belonged in some of the places I’d been…not really…I remain grateful for the error because they had made such a positive impact on my life!  

I doubt I would have gotten the psychological help I desperately needed without being placed in Heartview and being in recovery.  I sorted my issues out and figured out how to live my life the way I wanted.  I learned I could be loved and accepted despite my flaws and that I could reciprocate that to others.  I learned to accept myself and even like myself.  I doubt I would have learned to work thru my personal issues and gain self awareness and self acceptance if I had continued to self medicate.  I cannot regret it.  Any of it.  It brought me here and here is good.

In the end I have to let go of my worries.  I have to accept that I can’t control others opinions.  They have a right to them.

“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change”

I feel it is time to talk about it openly and let people make their own decisions about how they want to react to me and my story.  I’m not going to hide this anymore.  I’m not ashamed.

“Courage to change the things I can”

I’m 50 years old.  I have lived a good productive life and expect to continue to do so.  I have no regrets and I’m satisfied.  

In the end I inhabit my skin.  Only me.  That’s the final judge I’ll answer to on how I live my life and I’m willing to take the “hits” necessary to live life the way I see fit.  Nothing in life is free and I can live with that. 

And the wisdom to know the difference.