My darling and dear old friend, Ellen...she of the beautiful children and friends with benefits ex-husband...has kindly taken up the mantle of maintaining my blog while I'm away. I send her letters (from the great beyond), and she makes them digital and sends them to you.
I am in rehab--court-ordered, and a God send. I believe I need help--whether for drinking, drugs, or 'other'. I am getting it here...in addition ot adding pages to my life story.
The sentence, for the record, is 120 days (approximately 4 months). The alternative was 3 years in prison. I will leave here--healthier, having shed a great many tears, analyzed some 'issues,' and being sober (for the first time since Reagan left office). It will be October, late October, when I leave, and I am hoping for a celar day and chill winds. Something poetic...
Strange things come to mind here. I thought of proposing to Sean. I am thinking of it, actively; min you, I cannot keep my mind on him. I think of Sean and marriage, dysfunctional love, and then going back to church. I think it has something to do with his middle name being Christian, or that he is the antithesis of churchly things. I am ironic...and still in love.
The Frenemy and I visited my hipster haven before I turned myself in--Monday night at Web House. The Russian gave me a wry smile, surprised to see me...and the Straight Boyfriend hugged me between drinks. The guy I WAS seeing was there. He came over to throw a non-commital arm around my shoulder. We stood briefly hip-to-hip, exchanging tiny talk.
I returned to the Summer Palace (a season changes quickly--the transition marked by new landscaping and a switch ot wine spritzers). A gin and tonic is in order. I enjoyed that night--chatter with the Stable Boy, confessions and farewell(s) with/to the Frenemy, a pep talk and a hug from the Great Prince. And then I schtupped the Gardener.
It was a last hurrah...and it was good.
The Czarian drove me, and accompanied me, to court. The Frenemy joined us there. I was hand-cuffed, sitting in the jury box--alone. The Frenemy was busily hitting on the two young defendants across the way.
As I was to be taken to jail, the Frenemy and the Czarina left the court-room, and I cried like a little boy lost.
It is better now, of course. I know what I am facing, have an end date for my incarceration, but--more significantly--a healthy vision of the future...my future. I feel good today.
Small things are enormous at times; I feel good. My counselor--and old black man, who reminds me so very much of my father--gave me a hug. He is a precious child of God, and I believe.
Sabra here, guys. I will be posting more blogs as Mark sends them to me. He has asked for books--you know how it is there. So, if anyone has a spare volume or two--or can even write him, here's his address for the nonce:
Mark Hardeman #49
10975-A Applewhite Rd
San Antonio, TX 78224
Authors/books he'd like to read:
Molly Ivins (it pains me, as a Republican, to even type that name; I shall have to find some Mark Levin to send him)
Ann Coulter (oh, OK then!)
vols. 8 - 13 of A Series of Unfortunate Events
Love, by Toni Morrison
"...and anything anyone wants to share..."