Dealing.

I’m not here. Not really. There’s a lot going on, and none of it is for this space, for public consumption yet.

Couple of things though:

I went completely off the rails with my clean eating/no alcohol this weekend. Consider this my confession.

Forgive me.

The way that I deal with crisis always involves food and alcohol.

Here’s what I’ve learned.

After 20 days of sobriety and clean living, I have absolutely no control over anything remotely resembling moderation.

Tamales made and sold by tiny Mexican women who come to your salon will maybe save your life.

When your soul sister brings an Igloo of Mexican coke, ice cold, and a sonic cup of ice, it also saves your life.

Pizzahut boneless wings are pretty damned good. Eat them as soon as you get them. The pizza is good cold.

When you’ve cried so much you can’t quit, take a xanax.

When you wake up and think you’re back to eating clean, don’t eat two more pieces of pizza. Just throw it all in the trash immediately.

I’m actually relieved that I’m back on the wagon and back watching my calories.

I’m watching Sons of Anarchy. I’m on the final ep of the last bit that’s streaming. My cousin Steph is saving my life by getting Season 4 into my viewing soon.

I have reading to do. Finishing up some Fitzgerals and starting some Aphra Ben.

Going to go to the grocery store, stock up on clean things, and get a little facetime with the PseudoSisters tonight.

These cards that have been dealt…well. I guess we’re going to play them.

Dealing.