Beauty

So this is all new to me. This contest crap. I don't enter contests. I have to be prodded to enter something creative into a contest. I'm just not an enterer. I don't like competition.

So WTH made me enter this More Magazine thing?? What was I THINKING?

I'll tell you what I was thinking. I entered because I didn't think I'd have the GUTS to enter. I never thought I'd have a chance at anything - I just wanted to try something OUT of the box.

And once I looked over the other entries and saw the amount of votes some of these women had I figured I'd probably land somewhere in the middle. Never thought I'd have a shot at the top 100. And the top 100 is the place to be. That gets you to the second round of judging.

At that point it's no longer a popularity contest - seeing how many of your friends and family you can nag, beg and bribe to vote for you. It's before the judges... and they choose the top 3 based on looks and story.

Well, imagine my surprise when today I tied for 95th place.

That means top 100. That means I'm IN it. That means this is real all of a sudden. And then this FEELING came over me. I think I feel...

COMPETITIVE.

Now I want that top 100 more than anything. I know I won't win - I'm not kidding myself. But I want that damn top 100. I need to hold my own until May 12th.

And this is the LAST time I'm entering ANYTHING. My nerves can't take it.

Like Pavlov's dog...

A little background. At my office I am in charge of recording the answering machine message. I do this twice a day. Once at lunch, and once before I leave. I press a button, the machine beeps and I begin my message... they all begin the same way - "Thank you for calling Dr. Vander Vliet's office...."

More background. For 21 years I've been calling prescriptions into pharmacies for my patients. I've never had any issues. Well, except that one time that I had to call one in for a patient with the last name of Dick. And yes - I burst into giggles while on the phone with the pharmacy.

SO... the other day I had to call the pharmacy, and most have the option to leave the prescription info on an answering machine.

I listen, I hear the beep and guess what comes out of my mouth?

Yep. "Thank you for calling ..."

I knew there was no recovery from that. I hung up on the machine. I laughed so hard I cried. I waited over an hour to call the pharmacy back just in case they knew it was ME. lol

That wasn't the worst part.

The next day I did it AGAIN with another pharmacy. Only this time... MORE came out of my mouth.

So there was no hiding. I just giggled my way through the prescription. I will NEVER show my face in RiteAid again. Just so you know...

All grown up? I think not...

I try to convince myself, (and others) that I'm a grown up. I mean seriously, at age 52 (almost 53 EGADS) I should be self-sufficient, right? I should be able to make conscious decisions that will better ME. Right? I should be able to stand alone and run my household and my body efficiently and in a healthy manner. Right?

Ha. Ha, I say.

Left to my own devices this morning at the early hour of 7:30am, I have gotten the following accomplished:

Drank some coffee.
Drank some more coffee.
Ate a yogurt.
Ate a cold piece of pizza.
Finally showered.
Surfed the 'net.
Surfed the 'net some more.
Worked on a scrapbook page.
Surfed the 'net a little bit.
Realized I was cold and started the woodstove.
Surfed the 'net.
Restarted the woodstove because I surfed the 'net too long and it went out.
Realized it was lunch time.
Ate another yogurt.
Decided I needed some protein, so I poured some nuts into a paper cup and then poured them into my mouth.
Picked up nuts from my carpet.

So there you have it. Left on my own, I got NOTHING accomplished, ate terribly, got nuts stuck in my carpet and socks, and a scrapbook page halfway done.

But I did surf the 'net. ;-)

That's what a normal grown up would do, right?????

Wine, wine... wine.

Day 246. I had an interesting conversation with my brother last night. He asked how I was doing with not drinking, and I proudly told him my day count. He asked if I thought I would ever just try to take one glass of wine, and keep my drinking to a minimum.

I laughed, and said that I knew better than that. One glass of wine a week would turn into one glass of wine a day, which would turn into three glasses of wine a day... which is where my story started. I don't have the 'want' to just have one glass a week. If I'm going to drink, I'm going to get buzzed. That's the only reason I would ever drink. That's the only reason I ever DID drink.

So then the interesting part of the conversation happened. He apologized to me for having 2 beers the last time he was at my home.

Nonsense, I said... I don't care if you drink in front of me - it has no impact at all. The husband drinks a beer every night. There is a bottle of wine in the cabinet.

He's not the first person to feel funny about drinking in front of me. And that makes ME feel bad!

My drinking was a very solitary act. Yes, I drank with friends, but rarely allowed myself to get too buzzed. I was always ascared I'd get sick. But at home? No problem. I'd suck them down until I couldn't walk straight. And my FAVORITE time to drink was alone on my deck, with my book, the sun and a large LARGE glass of wine.

So seeing someone drink in front of me holds no 'want'. And I can't say it enough to my friends and family - go ahead and drink - PLEASE! It truly doesn't make any difference to me at all, and WON'T make me fall off the wagon.

Only *I* can make myself fall off the wagon. And I'm clinging to that wagon with every breath I take.