Day 300

Three hundred days, my people.

Spring is springing here (southern Iowa), with frogs squeaking in the pond, the first great blue heron (but just once, maybe only passing through?), first kingfisher, bees out and about on sunny days, rain and fog, redwing blackbirds staking out their reeds.

I’ve been mid-sober-stint twice before in the spring Continue reading

February light. Day 255.

Well, hi. I’ve been wanting to poke my head up here but, you know, there’s not much to say. It’s February, unseasonably snowy and cold, my workshop-in-process is just COLD, despite the solar air collectors (ceiling insulation would help). But a lime glowing green light shines inside me and life is good.

I’m mucking around in my eighth month Continue reading

Sudden preoccupation with kombucha

Day 228. A couple of months into new territory, never having mosied past five or so months sober before. I noticed in month maybe three or four that I was wanting … chapters of some sort. Sobriety seemed, oh, featureless. Monotonous? If it’s monotonous (which it could be. after all, what is it, really?), okay. I’ll take it as monotonous. But I like rhythm, or signposts, or texture, or phases, weather, seasons.

Somewhere back there I forgot Continue reading

Why tempt fate

I was going to call this post “Personal Best,” but why tempt fate. Today is day 165, a few days longer than my previous longest continuous sobrieties. Still ambling along. If a bit superstitiously.

In the past couple of years I’ve had two very nice goes at continuous sobriety Continue reading

100 days

Three digits. Themselves a little reward. Thank GOD to be here (in the secular sense).
iced coffee
In an email to Belle this morning, I Freudian-typo’ed, “I NEVER WANT TO DO THE FIRST 100 YEARS EVER AGAIN.”

That, too.

Onward.

Thank you for being here.

Have a good one!

Adrian