“Two tears in a bucket, motherfuck it.”

You know for as many hours as I’ve logged with addicts, people who are either still on the stuff or getting off it or in some kind of maintenance program (either medically-overseen or… not, as a couple I talked with yesterday were), and the hundreds if not thousands of testimonies I’ve heard, I actually, daily, realize how little I know. I mean don’t get me wrong, I think I know a hell of a lot more than your average Joe who sees this sort of thing as a very Other People thing, and I think I know some elements more deeply than your average television show and documentary. As an alcoholic in Recovery I have an insider view in a thousand ways. But still. There are lots of drugs and lots of family upbringings and lots of of lifestyles I never lived. And this isn’t just about drugs or alcohol, this is about understanding the multitudes of people out there and sharing in a human way. It’s about me growing compassion and learning not to judge, but to listen. The world is an amazing education. Really. I think I am getting better about participating, and deeply loving people, and learning a lot from them.

Today for the second day in a row I got to talk with my dear friend S. whom I love to bits. LOVE TO BITS. She is tough as hell and she has been through so many kinds of hell. She has been through it and done it all, I remember early on knowing her, hearing her talk about getting water out of puddles in a trailer park in Moclips to load her needle. And a hundred other stories.

S. has rock-solid Recovery and because of where she’s been, she is in an extraordinary position to help so many people that most of society would write off – people in the throes of all kinds of legal, familial, mental, emotional, spiritual, and existential crises. She is one of the strongest and most beautiful women I know and I’m privileged to know her – like so many I’ve met in Recovery. She recently had her sobriety anniversary (or “birthday”) and I told her across the room, “I Love You”, because I really really do. Anyway anytime I talk to her I understand how little I know, and how small my world really is. I am expanding it and sometimes it blows my mind. Sometimes it wears me out.

Today after listening to some of the stuff I came home and got on the bike; Hutch followed me for a two-mile run. It helped a lot to work up a sweat, and imbued me with gratitude my body can do this for me.


Earlier though, I had an odd day.At noon I biked to an appointment with the dentist; when I got there they discovered the filling I was scheduled for, well I already had it. The dentist was pissed at his employees but he masked this as professionally as possible and apologized to me – took full responsibility. The more I see the guy the more I like him.

Then this afternoon I went off to a blood drive – I had an appointment. Like the last time, my iron was too low (not low for a woman – healthy – but too low to donate). They stabbed me again and the second time the number was lower. I couldn’t donate today. This really bothered me. So I will be eating rare steak, shrimp (maybe), molasses, green veggies and try again in a week, the 1st of August. Because sumbitch I’m used to being able to donate and it means a lot to me.

And it was all kinda awkward because I had shuffled the kids and borrowed a car etc. etc. just to do my various things today. I was a little out of sorts about the whole blood-#FAIL. But I have this Buddhist adage I use on days where things don’t go my way. I believe I mentioned it in my post title.

In other news I’ve been listening to some kick-ass ladies while I sew (today – six t-shirts for my little girl).

I wish I was glamorous & had the wardrobe to match, & Peggy Lee’s clear, effortless, and sexually-frank voice. & could sing in a band. I love singing. & I’ve always wanted to let my inner Floozy have some more breathing room. She’s a pretty funny lady.

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