I always wake up around 3:00 AM and reflect on life for just a few minutes before I doze off until the real wake up time. I have heard this means I will either die young or live forever. I am not real sure but I think the dying young is already an option that is off the table. So this morning I opened the peepers to reflect and decided to just get up and get it started.
I do believe that life is best lived in reverse because at 4:30 AM I can see very clearly what I should have done as opposed to what I actually did. It must have been about 1973 or in that general area somewhere, when I was working at the Red Carpet Resturant in Hutchinson. I worked nights when I started there, but eventually moved into the morning cook/baker/fry cook position. At this particular time I was just dating husband 3/4. Now that boy was a drinker. (Of course they all were so that point is moot.)
I think perhaps the "drink until you fall down and pass out gene" runs in my family. Not that it makes anything I did right, but you need to know that my learning curve spikes in a lot of places and is non existent in the other places and the spike and the curve is not always in the upward direction. To make this story readable, I need to tell you that the night before, he and I had decided to "go dancing". This entailed some drinking. The laws then were that you could take your own bottle to the "dance place" so we did that. Course we ordered chasers. I had opted to only drink wine that night. Wise choice? You decide.
I started out with something called Annie Green Springs or some such innocent sounding concoction. It was really good as I recall, but of course that bottle went dry and since I was still thirsty someone went next door on a liquor run. I was very clear that I wanted the same brand and all so I would not lose my rhythm. Sadly, they did not have that brand, so I receive a giant bottle of something called Rascal Berry. It sure sounded innocent enough. I should have known that was not going to be good. By this time it was after midnight and I had to be at work at 5:00 AM. At 2:00 AM or so, I decided I had the flu. I needed my bed. Or at least comfortable sprinting distance to the commode. It could not have been the wine. Wine only has a 10-12% alcohol content.
When sweet thing dropped me off at home so I could drive myself to work, I was still wretching. I do not know just how romantic that evening had turned out. As for my life the next few days, it was a blur. My mother waited tables and thought I should go home since I had the "flu" and Francis was quick to tell her that it was self induced. No sympathy what so ever. The boss just glared at me, but offered me no time off to recuperate. I was top notch at my job and even in the throes of death, I was the best he had.
The next few days passed in a sort of blur.
Day #1 I did not hear from sweet thing and I prayed for death.
Day #2 I emptied my system of every thing I had ever eaten in life.
Day #3 was no better.
Day #4 was the turning point. I could keep an ice chip down. That was the best ice chip I ever tasted. Praise God!
Day #5 was mostly just shaking and sipping some sort of buttermilk concoction that I was craving at the moment. Some where in there I must have had a day off, because a full week passed with me courting the angels of death, before I began to pull out of the downward spiral.
Now you should know that back when I was dating husband #1, my brother, Jake and I decided to have a little drink to celebrate. What we were celebrating I will never know, but I do know that he went to the liquor store and bought a 5th of some sort of "rot gut" whiskey. We hoped there was enough to make us happy. Since all we had to chase it with was red Koolaid, we used that.
That little celebration was the first time I had the "dry heaves." Ever have those? I do want you to know, that from that day to this, I can not drink red Koolaid. The sight of anything red in a glass turns my stomach. When I say "turns my stomach," I mean since me into culture shock and there is going to be some upchucking going on with my digestive track. Never tried that again. I suspect it may have been more the liquor than the Koolaid, but I can never be sure.
I guess what I am trying to point out here is that liquor is evil. It makes me sick. I must be allergic to it. I realize that I am just not a good drinker. Nor am I a happy drunk. Any time a guy thought he would ply me with liquor and get lucky, he was sadly mistaken.
Alcohol and me are just not ever going to get along in this world. I may have actually been Carrie Nation in another life. I wonder what her background was? Now you know some of mine. When I make my off handed remarks, they are coming from life experiences. Several times I have been told that I should write my life story, but no one would believe it. So I am just going to be content to tell you that
I do believe that life is best lived in reverse because at 4:30 AM I can see very clearly what I should have done as opposed to what I actually did. It must have been about 1973 or in that general area somewhere, when I was working at the Red Carpet Resturant in Hutchinson. I worked nights when I started there, but eventually moved into the morning cook/baker/fry cook position. At this particular time I was just dating husband 3/4. Now that boy was a drinker. (Of course they all were so that point is moot.)
I think perhaps the "drink until you fall down and pass out gene" runs in my family. Not that it makes anything I did right, but you need to know that my learning curve spikes in a lot of places and is non existent in the other places and the spike and the curve is not always in the upward direction. To make this story readable, I need to tell you that the night before, he and I had decided to "go dancing". This entailed some drinking. The laws then were that you could take your own bottle to the "dance place" so we did that. Course we ordered chasers. I had opted to only drink wine that night. Wise choice? You decide.
I started out with something called Annie Green Springs or some such innocent sounding concoction. It was really good as I recall, but of course that bottle went dry and since I was still thirsty someone went next door on a liquor run. I was very clear that I wanted the same brand and all so I would not lose my rhythm. Sadly, they did not have that brand, so I receive a giant bottle of something called Rascal Berry. It sure sounded innocent enough. I should have known that was not going to be good. By this time it was after midnight and I had to be at work at 5:00 AM. At 2:00 AM or so, I decided I had the flu. I needed my bed. Or at least comfortable sprinting distance to the commode. It could not have been the wine. Wine only has a 10-12% alcohol content.
When sweet thing dropped me off at home so I could drive myself to work, I was still wretching. I do not know just how romantic that evening had turned out. As for my life the next few days, it was a blur. My mother waited tables and thought I should go home since I had the "flu" and Francis was quick to tell her that it was self induced. No sympathy what so ever. The boss just glared at me, but offered me no time off to recuperate. I was top notch at my job and even in the throes of death, I was the best he had.
The next few days passed in a sort of blur.
Day #1 I did not hear from sweet thing and I prayed for death.
Day #2 I emptied my system of every thing I had ever eaten in life.
Day #3 was no better.
Day #4 was the turning point. I could keep an ice chip down. That was the best ice chip I ever tasted. Praise God!
Day #5 was mostly just shaking and sipping some sort of buttermilk concoction that I was craving at the moment. Some where in there I must have had a day off, because a full week passed with me courting the angels of death, before I began to pull out of the downward spiral.
Now you should know that back when I was dating husband #1, my brother, Jake and I decided to have a little drink to celebrate. What we were celebrating I will never know, but I do know that he went to the liquor store and bought a 5th of some sort of "rot gut" whiskey. We hoped there was enough to make us happy. Since all we had to chase it with was red Koolaid, we used that.
That little celebration was the first time I had the "dry heaves." Ever have those? I do want you to know, that from that day to this, I can not drink red Koolaid. The sight of anything red in a glass turns my stomach. When I say "turns my stomach," I mean since me into culture shock and there is going to be some upchucking going on with my digestive track. Never tried that again. I suspect it may have been more the liquor than the Koolaid, but I can never be sure.
I guess what I am trying to point out here is that liquor is evil. It makes me sick. I must be allergic to it. I realize that I am just not a good drinker. Nor am I a happy drunk. Any time a guy thought he would ply me with liquor and get lucky, he was sadly mistaken.
Alcohol and me are just not ever going to get along in this world. I may have actually been Carrie Nation in another life. I wonder what her background was? Now you know some of mine. When I make my off handed remarks, they are coming from life experiences. Several times I have been told that I should write my life story, but no one would believe it. So I am just going to be content to tell you that
"My life would be best lived in reverse with the brakes on ."
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