Ice Cream: The New Beer

Today I am grateful for morning quiet after a couple windy days. I am also grateful for the ease of electricity and those who make it possible.

There has never been a picture of a beer on this blog before and don't expect to see one again any time soon. I was feeling both a little punchy and a little light-hearted as I took this picture. My ice cream. My husband Darcy's beer. 

I took the picture Friday evening. It's not unusual for me to get a little twinge of "wish I could have a cold one" on a Friday evening. I spent many, many Friday evenings in my drinking days doing plenty of imbibing. I had always racked up plenty of reasons throughout the week to justify some escape via alcohol.

Sometimes I still get a little ticked off when I hear people talking about their glass of wine or a drink after a busy week. Normal drinkers have this luxury. I don't. And by the way, I will never understand normal drinkers. A couple beers and then you're done? What? No point in that. Darcy, one of the "normies," will have a couple beers on weekend evenings and it doesn't bother me. Except when I have that certain "poor me" feeling. 

It is fleeting and passes quickly. It goes with the territory of being a recovering alcoholic. Don't worry, I don't plan to drink over it. The reminder of my powerful disease is needed. I have my own effective way of taking the edge off with my current preferred version of a cold one: a pint of ice cream. 

Not the healthiest choice, I know. But let's keep it in perspective shall we? I can drive just fine after a pint of ice cream; though I usually just go to bed. No blackouts or hangovers. No guilt for me either.

I don't drink anymore. I don't smoke anymore. Don't take my ice cream away.   

I am laughing a little as I write this. Laughter is good. And if there is anything I have learned in recovery it is to not take myself or life too damn seriously!