Hello, my darling readers. What I have to say may shock you. No, even more than discovering that your new Kate Spades are locked up in the concierge's office. Even more than discovering that that unidentified object you just picked up off the carpet is a toxic frog. (Could I make these up? They happened, I swear! To real people that I know! But I would never actually name La Belette Rouge and Mama Zen. The torture masters of the inquisition couldn't pry their identities from my lips.)
But I digress.
Most of you know me only as the quietly pious girl I am today. But once, I was a sloppy, out of control, raging alcoholic. At 28, after ten years of addictive drinking, I was in extremely bad shape. I found AA in the telephone book and went to a meeting. And then little fairies cascaded down from the clouds riding bluebirds and I lived happily ever after. Okay, so I made that last part up. The truth is, every time I would get about six months sobriety, I would go back out again. It took me until I was 30 to have my last drink to date. That was on a September 29th, which makes today my sobriety anniversary.
I have raised a child, sober. I have been married and divorced, sober. I have come out and been outed, sober. Thank you, Goddess. You and me, right Babe?
I just wanted to tell all of you my happy news. Raise a diet Coke for me, won't you?