Therapy in a bottle

I prefer a cocktail over any drug around.

I have mastered quite the girlie drink and - I know that I am a drunk because I can find any ol' bottle of booze and make it taste good. Pineapple juice is an amazing additive.

I am such a drunk that I notice when booze is missing from my bottles.

I work two doors down from a wine distributor. The other day I smelled the lovely fragrance of wine, mixed with asphalt. Only to sniff it out to see that they had spilled a caseload all over the parking lot.

It was a sad day - such a waste.

I remember when everyone seemingly had a cocktail and cigarette in hand. My old dentists fingers smelled of nicotine and soap while he worked on my mouth. I am actually surprised that he didnt have it dangling from his lower lip a la James Dean - letting the ashes drop into my gaping mouth.

I liked it that everyone had cocktail parties. I beg to have them. Everyone is either recovering and on a twelve step program or pregnant. So I drink alone.

I get the look from HB - but I see no crime in a cocktail when you come home.

My Mom had the ever handy jug of wine and my Dad had the ever present bottle of J&B.

I can honestly say that I never drank when I was younger. Although - I did like this Southern Comfort punch that my Mom used to make for her parties when I was little. She always let us have a glass. But - punch bowl glasses are small - so there was never any drunk kids around.

I probably didnt drink because - wine is gross when you are a kid and if you have ever tasted J&B and could still breathe....well....it's twice as gross.

That was all there was in the house. Well - that and a bottle of some sparkling wine that my Gramma always gave my folks for an anniversary. They kept it in there if she ever visited and let her drink it.

Yes - it may have been sour fermented grape juice by then - but my Grammas drink of choice is a Manhattan. I think thats Bourbon, wine and a splash of coke with a cherry. Now - if that wasnt invented by a drunk mixing the last of his bottles....

I find it to be a quite legal and relaxing activity. I pour myself a tumbler of this and that and go sit on the porch. I stroke my new cat Moochie and watch the flowers grow. Seemingly for that moment the whole world goes away.

I feel a little better. A bit more relaxed and I am able to face the inside of my home for a few more hours.

I don't have to talk to anyone. I prefer that I don't for that moment. Its me and my plastic tumbler.

Some people say it's not healthy and I should walk around the block. Or possibly join a gym. Maybe even hire a therapist.

I went to a therapist once or twice. I talked and talked and talked and talked. Then he would ask...

"So how does that make you feel?" Then I would talk and talk and talk and talk.

I would be so drained by talking and crying that I would leave there with the urgent desire for a drink.

I would then pour myself something upon arriving home and it was odd - I automatically felt better.

It had nothing to do with the talking and crying. That just made me tired and worn out. And sad.
I would hate to send out the wrong signals. Many of you that read this blog have never met me and I don't want to seem like a lush.

But is there really anything wrong with a drink a day?

Studies show (sometimes) that a glass of wine helps keep the pipes to the ticker clean and is actually beneficial for you. I long to be that woman that dies at 101 and that her claim to fame was she smoked unfiltered Camels, drank red wine and ate chocolate every day.

But why is there such a stigma to it being utilized as a sort of therapy in a bottle?