Less is More

Okay, so my self imposed 40-day stint 'on the wagon' ended after just 72 hours.

I will say however, that those 72 long hours were useful for proving a number of things:

1. I can go days (plural) without alcohol. A special skill not tested since 1998.
2. I can survive parties in NEW JERSEY absolutely, painfully sober.
3. Regardless of one's relationship to the devil drink, I still believe it to be sacriligious to toast the arrival a brand new baby (Niece number 2: Veronica Amira Handley, 10 September 2006 - check me out!) with a latte.
4. At restaurants, my friends NEED me to perform the pretentious wine testing ritual. Really, they were lost without me!

But the really sobering revelation that came about during my abstinence is that I have without doubt entered a world of busy, and the journey back to the land of lazy champagne filled afternoons seems to be a protracted one.

So, in the interest of my sanity and not having to make any more grand AA style pronouncements, I am contenting myself with a the following.

There will be vino, as there has always been vino. Just less. Which I think is more than enough!

40 Days and 40 Nights


I once joked (over a chardonnay no doubt) that I would never allow my drinking habits to reach alcoholic proportions, because with my luck some well meaning friend would take it upon himself to stage an intervention, and I'd be forced into rehabilitation - a fate that seemed worse than saying no to the ninth drink.

Well, yesterday one such well meaning friend sabotaged me over a Friday night out at one of my favourite restaurants in the Village. ("Voyage", check it out, they do a great White Cosmopolitan). Now I think this turn of events probably has more to do with the change in my living arrangements than in my drinking habits. I now find myself in the grand old US of A, and I think our cultures have slightly different definitions of what actually constitutes a drinking problem. (For example, for Mr. X, it's a problem that I don't always remember everything everyone says. For me, that's a bonus.)

So while I'm not overly perturbed, it happens that the sermon I received over dinner (and my fifth glass of wine) last night, coincides with a sharp increase in the amount of productivity and output required of me over the next five or so weeks. The first week back at school has left me with a list of reading and rehearsing that requires some sharp focus, something vanilla vodka tends to inhibit.

And so, I thought I would try an experiment. Now that I no longer have the excuse of the tedium of life in Laconia for keeping my BAC at a solid .05, and now that I no longer have access to my brother's fine wine cellar in Seattle, and now that the shoe budget is completely diminished, it seems prudent to assess what may reasonably be defined as an 'essential' part of the daily ritual.

In light of all these things, I am electing of my own free (if extrememly frightened) will to take a walk through the liquorless desert of Manhattan for the next forty days and forty nights.

As I write, it is the end of day one. I just survived 4 hours at a housewarming in NEW JERSEY (where the alcoholic beverages were both chilled and free!) with nothing to drink but iced water. Side effects as yet don't include the more traditional shakes and sweats, although there was certainly some glazing of the eyes during the afternoon of sober conversation.

Wow, stay tuned. I can tell this is going to be one wild ride. (Yes, I can see your eyes glazing over... you might want to bring a bottle of pinot to the next installment).