Luck can be a fickle mistress. Last night, as I often do, I went to the prohibition room at the gold dome bank to listen to jazz. When I walked in, I saw a woman sitting facing away from me with dark hair, large earrings and a red dress texting furiously. I was sure it was the lovely Juliet, who I’d seen there before on rare occasion. I walked up behind and tapped her on the shoulder and when she turned around — Oh, my, but it was not lovely and it was not Juliet. I’ve been known to be pretty cheeky when greeting Juliet because I still love her so, but I was sure glad I’d been restrained. I’d expected blue eyes, a great smile, a model’s face, and what I got was … well, none of those things. Brrrr.
Yesterday was the 14th anniversary of my first AA meeting and I went to two meetings and got two chips. I’m lucky to have long term sobriety; few make it as far as I have and I can only tell you it’s a blessing and grace and not something I earned or gained by right.
I was also lucky with the music last night. About every time I would decide it was time to leave, a new player would join the jam and it would be too good to leave just yet. I’m often gone by 10:30 or 11 p.m. (school night, ya know?), but it was crowding midnight last night before I could pry myself away.