Seeing beer, drinking peach tea

I’m sitting in the corner coffee shop, 4:47 p.m., staring at the almost empty pint glass of beer on a table next to an acquaintance’s computer. Irritated that that’s not me.

Last week I stood in line here to get my coffee, behind another acquaintance who was buying a pint of a different beer. This one was from a brewery in Fort Collins, Colorado, that I love and that I visited several years ago as part of a writing project (that never got off the ground) on solar-powered breweries. I love that label. It’s about fish. Cutthroat Porter. Come to think of it, maybe I have a fish-beer-label theme — think Two Hearted. We chatted about the brewery while the barista filled his glass. I had to walk away.

Earlier this week I wandered

Sinking down slowly into sobriety

In my post a few days ago I said that I wasn’t sure why I was ruminating on my strange lack of association with the concept of early sobriety. Denial, I guess, though it doesn’t have all the bells and blinking lights I associate with big-D denial.

I think the reason the realization was important is that I am reminded that I really need to slow down. I have it in me

One drink isn’t just one drink: thoughts on day 49

Today is day 49 for me, and I can’t tell you how glad I am that I got a run at 2017. That wasn’t the plan — I just quit (again) on November 21 and god damn it, it finally stuck (again).

I’m in an interesting space. Getting past the first 10 days is so lovely. But I remained preoccupied, and then reaching 30 brought more great relief. I think this is the first time I’ve hit 30 days since the first time I quit in spring of 2015. (I feel so ashamed to admit that. I know I “shouldn’t.” But damn it I do. I promised myself I’d be honest on this blog, so there it is.) But I’ve stayed preoccupied in a low-grade way. Not craving, exactly, but wanting. I have a low-grade missing of my IPAs. A gentle nervousness