Gray day......

Gray day. Everything is gray, I watch but nothing moves today.....line from a book about colors by Dr.Seuss. He was brilliant, and all my children when they were little loved this book, and I still do. It is a gray damp February day. The snow has softened since it's dumping, and icicles hold little threat. This type of weather puts a chill in my bones that I can't shake. Not to mention that I've been relapsing with this sinus infection/cold. My Dr. had to extend the antibiotics I'm on since I have fluid in my ears, and then she had the audacity to tell me I needed more "rest". Ahhhhh rest, that is a quest I've been after for a while. Lately I haven't been getting much. Our furniture is still piled in the center of our room. I have no energy to pull the room together and instead of letting it drive me crazy I'm not going to worry about it until the weekend. I'll put on some Miles Davis and have at it. I think better when I'm alone with my "jazz". What is it about that music that settles the nerves, let's my mind ramble on no certain course, and makes my heart feel light. Probably since I was raised in such a traditional caucasion household. I liked jazz the first time I heard it. It was so unlike anything I had ever experienced. It had a beat, a rythmn all it's own. Like buzzying bees without a course. I am probably the only one in my family that loves it, but then again I have a huge Frank Sinatra collection, I love the trumpet, and then the blues. I listen to whatever Alex puts in front of me, and there are many talented artists out there today, but I like to stick with those I know. Sometimes I want to sing along to John Mayer's "Georgia" or croon with Frank's "One for my baby"....but music has always been one area in my life that I have always been true to. Sure I listened to the music that was "in" when I was in high school but I was never afraid to listen to whatever else I wanted too. I love me a good Ike and Tina "Proud Mary" and yet I can listen to George Winston's Summer CD and drift a million miles away. The other day it was delightful. I was the only one at home, painting away and listening to Chris Botti's "When I fall in Love". The music was loud and a freight train could have come through the house and I never would have noticed. I was at peace. One of the greatest gifts that the program of Alcoholics Anonymous has given me is that I appreciate the little things. A few stolen minutes alone with music, gray day or sunny, is a perfect way to pass the time.....

Buried.....

Mother nature opened up her doors and dumped a foot of snow on us! We are buried, the wind is whipping, and it's still snowing. Guess we just had a tease of spring and now it's back to reality. My hubby and I are redecorating our bedroom. A few years ago we tore out all the walls and made the top floor of our cape cod our entire bedroom. It's an awesome space, and for some reason I felt the need to recreate it. Now normally I would get an eye roll, or "not again" from the man but he must have sensed my urgency and wanting a whole new look. There was no objection. So I picked out the paint, the bedding, the accesories and we got to work this past Saturday. All the painting is done, and we both love the color. However due to our busy schedules I won't be able to pull everything together until this coming weekend. I guess the room, and the objects were things of my past. Pieces that I never wanted to part with, had suddenly become not important. I told my hubby I wanted to get rid of certain things and he agreed. Let's "do it"! This is shocking because he likes to argue over certain things. We gave some things away to people we knew would appreaciate them, and we stored others in the attic. AA has taught me the beauty of posessions just being that: material wants. I had no qualms looking through our stuff and letting go. A part of me realizes that I've had these things through all my drinking. I've outgrown them, they no longer represent the person I'm becoming. And since we are working on our marriage, why not start with a clean slate. Our bedroom should be our sanctuary, a place to talk, share, and spend quality time together. I think we are well on our way. We also had the treat of seeing Gaelic Storm in concert last night. It was sold out, but due to the terrible weather many did not make it, so when the show began we were able to get even better seats than what we purchased. My husband loves this band, and has seen them before at Irishfest. They were excellent. Our toes were tapping, our hands were clapping, and we were busy singing along. I had to note that most of the songs contained refrences to alcohol, lots of Guiness, and whiskey, but it didn't bother me. I know many recovering alcoholics would have been bothered by it, but I try to own my own disease. To not judge others if they are having a good time and alcohol is included. I'm the one with the problem, I don't know how to have just one. In order for me to exist in the present I need to be clean and sober. Just opening that door to escape for just a second could have me gone in an instant. During intermission we met up with some friends. They were having drinks, and my husband had a scotch and I had a diet coke. It was refreshing, and revamped my energy so I could whoop it up during the second half of the show. The drive home was messy, and visibility was almost zero. Hubby went to bed as he had an early day ahead, and my oldest and I watched a TV show together. As I snuggled down on the couch (fresh paint fumes give me terrible headaches) I was able to drift off into a peaceful sleep. Content with the fact that I am sober, that I can dream, and laugh, and have a great time alcohol free. To me that is a priceless posession worth keeping.....