Sober and Happy

Well, not really sober in the sense of AA, but for me, for The Beach, and for this lifestyle. After my encounter with the witches from Salem exactly one week ago, I decided to pull back a bit. YOU try drinking Shawn Porier under the table, chasing rum with tequila shots, and you will find all sorts of demons. Witches, of course, aren't demons or in any way associated with Satan, but rum is, and the following day found me in the most distressed way.

So, I summoned up my strength and had a relatively clean week. (A little wine with dinner assured that my body was not going to go into seizure.) And this is what I accomplished this week:
I did not ruin one piece of clothing.
I planned out the opening of our new bar on Friday.
I took my beloved dog, KiKi on a day trip.
He slept by the pool and I drifted in it, not afraid of the sunlight.
I agreed to work with du Barry on a benefit next March and began searching for a space.
I didn't fall into the arms of any men of disrepute, except for those of the ever-loyal, Johnny.
The holiday weekend has been planned out like a fascist train schedule.
and,
I sent a check to my "ex" just because I felt like it.

Now, before my friends begin to suspect that this is not really me ("It looks like Alexis, but it's NOT Alexis), I am going to put this big pod I woke up next to last Thursday morning in the garden shed and go have some cocktails at Twist's 12th anniversary Party.