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There’s something missing from this picture…

There’s something missing from this picture…

There’s something missing from this picture…


The flaming wreckage is over the hill behind the ponies…
     My  friend Val says I look like an Air Hostess in this photograph.  I was visiting her in England recently – it was the first time in my adult life I had seen England without the benefit of booze.  I was sober as Stonehenge, people.  She took me to Dartmoor for a brisk walk and a pub lunch. 

    Why did I dress like this to stomp over mountains of icy heather and dried pony poop?  I look so official and quaffed with my navy-blue blazer and jack boots… Like I’m available to answer questions, or gather tourists together to expound on points of local interest.

    But, I also look dejected.  Like I’m the only survivor of the plane crash (burning out of sight) and I just don’t have the energy to BE STRONG and DEAL with it all.  As if I’d rather just stand there – having a stare-down with a feral, Dartmoor pony…

     That’s kind of how I feel. 

      My ex-husband quit smoking, cold turkey, many years ago.  He said that after he did, he was disinterested in drinking beer, or going to restaurants or parties, because without a cigarette, nothing felt right.  It felt like something was missing.  Val and I went on to a charming, country pub after our walk.  One of those low ceilinged affairs with a wood burning fireplace and horse irons hanging on the walls: the perfect setting to while away the hours with a Plowman’s Lunch and a glass of red wine.

     But, without the familiar glass(s) of wine, it felt like the pub lacked something.  Although I love Val’s company, and I was in ENGLAND for Christ’s sake, it was just food.  In a charming setting.  On a cold day.  


Today I’m not drinking because:  I don’t bloody know.  Remind me – WHY am I not drinking?  There’s something missing

How come you’re not drinking?

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