Mulling In A Mowhawk

It's just before 9 in the morning and I've put a cheesecake in the oven (which set off the fire alarm halfway through writing this post, only to have me find the cord of dearest one's nearly new electric skillet heating itself up by being caught in the oven door!)and the makings of chicken stock in the crock pot. I'm also still in my pjs with my mowhawk morning hair waving to and fro. I can tell how much I toss and turn in the night by how big my mowhawk is in the morning. People who can get out of bed and comb their hair and be ready for the day - I envy them.

I've been awake for several hours in the night for 10 days in a row now. It's nigh impossible to wake up rested, no?

Today is youngest son's birthday. You can read about how his birth changed my life here and here. However old he turns is the forerunner of my sobriety birthday 3 months later. Sometimes I forget how long it's been since I had a drink only to think about how old he is and then I remember.

I've been mulling. That's the best way to put it. I can't seem to think of a darn thing to write about and neither do I have the urge to mull out loud here. I sent several of my blog posts to an old friend a few years ago. She told me that some of them sounded like they were written in persona and some sounded like my authentic voice. I used to spend 2 or 3 hours crafting a post. Now I dash them off and go on about my day. There is part of me that thinks not having anything to say is a good thing. But I miss the writing.

Sometime in this past week I clicked on this link which felt like playing Russian Roulette. The last time I wanted a saint for the year it hit way too close to the mark.

This year I got this guy. The original little blurb said he was the patron saint against drowning. Fitting considering the previous day I'd told my sponsor that I am scared in water over my head. The immediate thought that came to me when I read about his patronage was that I needed help not getting in over my head in the coming year. There are lots of ways to drown other than water. Such as the pile of papers on my desk.

Although if I feel myself going down hopefully it will be after a night of major tossing and turning. That way my mowhawk will be the last thing to disappear below the surface and you'll know it's me.



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