A little victory. Maybe two.

As to dinner, here’s the whole shebang.

–The roast chicken is stuffed with apples and rosemary from our own yard.
–I don’t remember everything that went into the seasoning: Olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt, pepper, garlic salt, sage, paprika, cinnamon (I ALWAYS use cinnamon when I make chicken.) Wait. I DID remember!
–Basic Corn on Le Cobbe, air-fried, butter, salt, pepper, basil.
–The salad is kind of exciting: lettuce, tomatoes, diced apples, Persian cucumbers, celery, pistachios, kalamata olives, banana peppers.

This is the big deal: Today I did two things I almost never did unless I was drinking.

–Cooking. Some of the wine made it into the entree. The chef took care of the rest.

–Writing, my Irish Endeavor. (Always done with Guinness Stout alongside my laptop.)

In my hospital stay at Cottage, I was lucky to escape the worst symptoms of detoxing from alcohol abuse–no seizures, no delirium tremens, no vile headaches, no psychotic breaks. Trembling hands? Yes. But now, my lungs ache, as if beer was my oxygen and I can’t get enough of it. Another marker in my recovery at this early stage is bone-crushing exhaustion. I worked out with weights yesterday and at the end of each set I wanted to cry. Twice, I’ve almost fallen asleep while standing up.

The other thing I did, today, sober, was to write. Here’s a snapshot from today’s blog.

I have been drinking. A lot. Crystal Light sugar-free lemonade. Olaf, our new refrigerator, has an ice dispenser. He’s my sober bartender, and I return frequently for another round of lemonade. With ice. Lemonade reminds me of when I was little.

I remember, when I was little, loving the story of the five Chinese brothers (criticized, perhaps justly, for the stereotypical illustrations). They were condemned, unjustly, to execution, but they had superpowers. One brother couldn’t be burned, another couldn’t be beheaded, one more couldn’t be drowned (he swallowed the sea). Whatever you might think about the illustrations, from 1938, I love the ending.

Maybe I’m the sixth brother, and maybe my superpower is sobriety. And maybe, because of that, I will live with my family happily for many years. I’d like that.