Campfire Confessions

Spent a weekend away from the home with some friends. Was the perfect setting for drinking around the campfire. Made myself into a nuisance drinking everything in site then stumbled across a full bottle of vodka and, yeah, the rest is history.

Always delightful waking up the next morning and trying to judge by the looks of others what actually happened between drink 30 and the time I actually passed out somewhere. By all accounts I was compliant and went to bed when I was told to, without falling into the fire.

Shared some meaningful moments during the day with the kids and friends, walking through eucalypt plantations and exploring the rockpools at Seal Rocks.  Water was cool but startingly refreshing and cleared the head.  Always love walking through a rainforest trail being told by my wife how much of a dick I was the night before.  Even though my cheeks were burning with shame, I knew I would do it again the next night, and sure enough, I did, although on a smaller scale.

At some point during my nightly lectures I let slip that I actually have this blog and that I am writing on it about my struggle to move towards sobriety.  The first time I have had crossover from the blogosphere to the real world.  So if you are reading this, from the wekend welcome...
More on that next time.