Life in the slow lane,,,

Here I sit, with my big red cup full of fresh-brewed Ethiopian coffee, happy beyond words. Sixteen years ago, I was nursing a horrid hangover and a huge heaping of remorse. Little did I know that would be the last time that happened in my tiny life. And things were not looking up, oh no. My partner was in the process of moving out, leaving me to stew in my own juices. And I was terrified, with a lot of dandy things to contemplate in the future, like court and some pretty big fines. Yes, hitting the bottom, alcoholically speaking, is not fun. Getting sober isn't, either. It's just better than the alternative. I honor that poor broken woman on this day every year. She is not me anymore. And that is because I did the things I needed to do to change. Ooooh, there's an ugly word. Perhaps it is more that I kept to the high road, and somewhere in that process, I was transformed into something new and improved. So this week, I get to make the rounds of meetings where I show my face regularly, and give back the medallions that say XV, and pick up new ones that say XVI. Sweet sixteen. That's me. Again.