Keeping Up Appearances

In the first year (at least) of sobriety, one wants to avoid HALT - getting too hungry, angry, lonely or tired. Those, apparently, are triggers to most of "us" and can render us needy, isolated, depleted, and looking for something to fill up our emptiness. This is not good for an addict. This is where we go looking for our substance of choice. It is better to avoid slipping into a hole than trying to climb out of it. In the past week, I've pushed the limits. An abundance of work and, therefore, deadlines led me to tired, hungry and lonely (or, at least, alone). I never quite landed on angry, but I'm sure it would have shown itself had I continued to push. And, actually, my displeasure with the barista at the airport Starbucks last night could almost have qualified as angry. Certainly bitchy, at least.

I made an agreement with myself and wrote it in the DayPlanner, because that is the way I have to do these things if they are to happen. No going anywhere or doing anything for friends. My world-renowned expertise on all things technological or computer (Ha! All things are relative.) will simply have to be put on hold for a couple of days. I will not be available to attend the AA Spring Fling for 7 hours, but I will pop in briefly on my way into or out of a meeting. Though poking around in the yard sounds kind of fun, I do not want my new neighborly best friend to conclude that I am eager for intense gardening, so maybe I should just lay low. I will not do laundry. I won't tap at e-mails until they begin to feel like work. I will not write one word on the pop art icon I am paid to write about. I will give no consideration to any small luxuries I'd like to take on now that my finances have improved, for that would first require a serious breakdown of necessary spending and I'd turn that into a days-long project. I will consider a soak in the hot tub or a soak in my jacuzzi bathtub if I can spook up some interesting new form of bath salts. I will surely read both sobriety/recovery materials and the reading I do for pure pleasure. I will sleep or nap whenever my body or mind says "Now." And finally, I thought, "Maybe I'll learn about something new. Do something a little different."

I don't like to wah-wah about anything. No, really. I do wah-wah, but that is only to let off pressure so I don't explode. After I wah-wah, I suffer great angst and guilt. One of the most deeply ingrained messages I got young is "Don't ask anyone for anything. Do it yourself. Be self-sufficient." It's been a burden, that requirement against which one judges oneself, to know how to do all things. And well. Mostly, across time, I learn how to do most things I want to know about. But one must measure that "time" against the movement of - oh, say - the mighty glaciers, not against the speed of a roadrunner. First, I have to noodge a lot about why I don't automatically know how to do whatever it is. "Ha!" thought I. "I know what I want to do. I can likely do it right at the computer, never changing out of my raggedy but comforting dorm shirt, never doing anything to my hair."

I got a cold drink, flung open the French doors, set the music and started to noodle around online. Oh, please! Don't let the "Wine" part of that advertisement disturb you. I'm told this is a vintage ad for the original formulation of what ultimately became Coca-Cola, and that's what was in my tall, iced glass. I found what I needed very quickly. Oh! Both free and easy to use. The download took no time at all. Within minutes, I had the basics down. In an hour, I was doing fancy stuff. My thoughts started to drift into old wah-wah territory. Now I'd have to apologize for having taken so long to learn what seemingly everyone else knew how to do . . . never mind. I don't apologize. No, really. When it became urgent to me, I went and learned. Everything in its own time.

I learned to enhance photos to maximum unambiguity, even though I am no photographer. I now have the means to post my pictures so they will present in the way that I saw them, not in the way that my ham-fisted camera work delivers up. I pondered on how big a cheat I thought this was. Other people learn to take fine pictures from behind the camera. That does not intrigue me, though I would like to illustrate my posts with things I saw that pleased me or made me laugh or made me sad. I landed on something I can live with. I was born with a face. It is neither hideous nor beautiful. It presents better if I use certain techniques to punch up its positive attributes and play down the unfortunate ones. Once, a friend commented that she liked the way I kept my hair. I replied, "Yes, well, I try to keep it nice because I have to wear it right up here by my face." I believe it's OK to use assistance to play up appearance.

And so, it's been nearly a year since my trip to Arizona. I only got to post one of many pictures I actually took that pleased me very much. Almost immediately afterward, I went on my urgently needed blog sabbatical. All those images are lying quietly in the bag, along with the memory of getting down on my knees in the garden rocks, putting my sweating face right up into those photo ops, and snapping, experimenting with angles, having a good time, getting a breather after a very long walk in the early morning heat. Yes, I know about the plethora of purty flower pitchers in the blogosphere. Yes, I hear the cries of "Please, show us something else besides flowers!" That's OK. I don't offer my pics as exceptional in any way except for the extreme pleasure they gave me - both the camera work and the enjoyment afterward. I feel the sweat rolling down my body, the was sun burning through the top of my hat, my large array of walk-alongs (water bottle, iPod, cell phone) spread out on the ground beside me. "You OK, Lady?" Nice people in that community. "I'm grand, Sir. Thank you."

Yes, I know Osama bin Laden is dead and (maybe, according to some news reports) we're supposed to cheer about that. Ten years, and all. But I'm not paying attention to that right now. Maybe never. I'm not required to. I'd rather reminisce and learn something new.

Flower photos: Leslie Morgan, 2010