Monday, July 13, 2009


I found myself craving alcohol yesterday. Poured myself what was left of a bottle of wine at exactly 5:04 p.m. I was so proud of myself that I actually made it till 5:00 since it was a particularly lonely day. Alan got on a plane to New York around 10 a.m. I wasn't motivated to much of anything. It's so freakin' hot outside in this miserable Texas summer heat. I feel like a prisoner in my own home at least during the day.

I spent the majority of the day drawing with pastels. I find that putting my anxiety into a creative project helps quite a bit. Not that I'm some great artist or anything. I just love working with colors. I do best with kind of abstract pieces. There is no right or wrong when you work in abstract. In fact, I textured the entire downstairs of my house with glaze. What I loved most about doing it, was that there is no wrong way, no mistakes. It would be great if life worked that way.

I called my dad yesterday, which is an exercise in hilarity. It takes a lot of strength lately to pick up the phone and call him. You have to prepare yourself for a certain amount of bullshit. I have to admit that he does always make me laugh. He finds a way to put in these digs about my brothers and sisters and how he never hears from any of them. He make outrageous accusations about their personal lives, which you have to take with a grain of salt and just laugh. Then you wonder what he is saying about you when he's talking to them.

We will be going home to L.A. for a visit soon. My boys can't wait to see him. They love him unconditionally, without judgment. I love him because he is my father and he did contribute directly and indirectly to the person that I have become. I tribute my love of music, my sense of humor, the calm and outrageous sides of my personality to him. I will allow the boys to spend time with him with mixed emotions and angst over what he will say to confuse and damage them. Some of my siblings have given up on allowing their children to spend time alone with him. I figure the boys don't get to see him often, and as he is 80 years old, we never how much longer they will have him in their lives. Besides they get a kick out of all of his cursing. They don't get to here it much at home.

My second drink was an unsatisfying margarita, which made me think I should stick with wine. The high is much more mellow. So I went to the store (to get eggs) and bought another bottle. It was a leisurely Sunday after all. Besides, it would go great with the pizza I picked up. I refused to cook for my little ungrateful heathens. Unfortunately, the bottle wasn't cold enough so it went unopened last night. I was actually proud of myself for going to bed without it. I confess...I did however make and partake of a lemon ice-box pie (my grandmothers recipe) that I don't plan on sharing with anyone if I can help it.

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