Don’t come home a drinkin’…From the Heart Series

         It seems like I’ve been fixated as of late on drinking –as in me starting to drink.

It all began last weekend on the way home from a day at Madewood Plantation, where we attended a crawfish boil hosted by Ameriprise Financial. The Friday evening was spent at a family gathering at a local restaurant in honor on Hubby’s father’s birthday, where maybe half of his family actually acknowledged that I take up space. Then, on Saturday, just as we sat down to enjoy our boiled crawfish, we looked up just in time to see my ex sit down at the next table.

Knowing that on Sunday we were attending a meet and greet of oldest son, Joshua, in-laws-to-be, and we’d also have to deal with Hubby’s ex, I may have mentioned to Hubby I was going to have to start drinking in order to deal with the stress. It was either that or start taking drugs. I thought drinking would taste better.

Then, I really got on a roll. I told him I was going to be a loud, boisterous, happy, drunk. And, as if that weren’t enough, I was going to be a loud, boisterous, happy drunk who told people what she thought of them. By this time, I was absolutely pomaded (French for laughing), so much so that Hubby even started laughing (he doesn’t always laugh at my tirades.) I was so into character that I started a performance of just what a loud, boisterous, happy, drunk (aka me) would do. To try to recreate my antics in writing would be impossible. You’ll just have to use your imagination. It went a little like this:

“Hey! (insert name) You wanta know what I think of you?” (Laughing)


“Oh! Sure you do! I’m gonna tell you anyway! (Lots of laughing, loud, boisterous.) …

You sorta had to be there, but believe me, if Hubby was laughing, it must have been funny. I am an introvert so far off the chart that I fell off the chart. I rarely tell people what I’m thinking because I wouldn’t dare want to hurt someone’s feelings. So, that’s why I decided that I would be a loud, slaphappy, boisterous, drunk.

Then, yesterday, as I was adding Vermouth to a pasta dish I was making, I started wondering if I consume enough Vermouth in the guise of “deglazing” to be considered a drunk. Maybe I’ve already started drinking and I haven’t figured it out yet. This dish makes me happy. Ummm.

So…what about you? What is going to drive you to drinking in your life? (You know you can tell me.)


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