Pleadings from George…
George’s letter yesterday was pitiful and morose. I so want to rescue my friend and get him home so badly. “You’ve got to get me out of this place!” he wrote me. “These motherf@ckers are nuts! This place is so dangerous!” I wrote a long letter back of encouragement that soon he would be out of jail and enjoying all the benefits thereof. “Hang in there!” I wrote. “We are coming to your parole hearing! We are getting you out of jail!” I worry about my friend. I can’t imagine being incarcerated in such conditions. It reminds me of the many mental wards I have been locked in over the years. I am very well versed in being locked up for “abhorrent behavior” mentally. I was on enough drugs to anesthetize an elephant.
A Picnic to be Remembered…
Stacey loved her picnic and was so surprised. The only mar on the day was the heat, but it wasn’t nearly as hot as it has been. I am finding dating to be very taxing, though – the guy is expected to do and plan everything. I have tried my best to be the stereotypical Southern gentleman. I think the dogs had the best time, though. I gambled and let Maggie off her leash and you should have seen her run. She ran circles around us until she was tired. I have never seen a dog more jubilant to be let free. We ate our pimento cheese sandwiches and potato chips, and then I fished for awhile in the grand ole Chattahoochee. I caught two medium sized bass using my favorite lures and filleted them and put them in the freezer for a fish fry at a later date. I can already taste the French fries, hush puppies, and that fried fish.
A Drinking Checkpoint?
Dad stopped by late yesterday afternoon surly and mean as usual. He was checking up on me. My new life is driving him virtually crazy. “I don’t like that woman drinking in your house – my house!” he told me forcefully as Stacey was sitting on the couch drinking a glass of wine. “It’s none of your f@cking business,” I said brusquely and tersely losing control as I stood in my front yard. “I am tired of you meddling in my life dad!” He huffily hurried to his car and drove off after saying he had other measures of controlling me and I better watch out. I told him to do his best. I am tired of that crap and he better watch out as well. I am no longer the quiet, complacent, milquetoast Jonathon I used to be. I can get fighting mad now these days and will not give up easily. There is no way I am going back to the misery that was my life a few months ago.
Should I Cut Off Ties?
I called dad this morning and told him I didn’t want him coming by the house uninvited – that he would never do that to my brother and sister respecting their privacy. It would be different if he came just to see me and spend time with me, but he is checking up on me like he would do a child. I have reminded him countless times that I am 38 years old much to his chagrin. My aunt Pam didn’t speak to her mother or much of the family for four years. My grandmother was a mean woman known for her terse and biting words. Pam grew tired of this and just cut off all ties with her. I wish I could do this with my father, but he still controls so much of my life these days. Every week, though, I gain more and more control of my life. One of my last obstacles is to get my disability in my name and I learned today that all it takes is a letter from my doctor stating that I am mentally competent to handle the responsibility. I will debate over getting her to write this letter for a few weeks – thinking I may be ready for the big plunge.
I was weighing the costs and benefits of having a few glasses of wine this morning and I have decided it’s just not worth it – not worth it at all. I feel like crap after drinking three large glasses of wine last night under Stacey’s strong urgings that I “lighten up”. “Where are you going?” Stacey just asked me as I crawled out of the bed with a splitting headache early this morning. “You know me,” I said. “I get up at 3:30am on the dot. I need some Aleve.” She turned over and went back to sleep. She never seems fazed by what she drinks. I don’t see how she can drink four glasses of wine like she normally does and still function in the morning. I feel like crap after only three. It is hard to believe I used to drink a case of beer everyday. How did I ever do that and why? I was in so much pain emotionally, though, after my divorce. My, have I grown soft. I am just not the drinker I used to be and I certainly don’t like the “out of control” feeling I feel when I drink. It is a good thing I don’t have to work today as it will take most of the day to recover from my drinking over exertions last night. I plan on not drinking at all for as long as George has his alcohol monitoring device on his ankle as a show of support. It will probably be the best thing I ever did for him not to tempt him as not drinking is going to be very hard on George.