And So it Goes....

And so it goes....
It was the big 3 day weekend here in New England. I think it may even be one of those that ONLY New Englander's are privy to. Patriot's Day. Right. For the first few year's I was on Cape Cod I secretly had myself convinced it was a holiday for the New England Patriots. Just another day the banks are closed. Columbus Day is the other. This is for the most part is a paid holiday in New England. For me though, it was a different sort of holiday.

As some of you know I had the big "hot" date with the big "hot" photographer Saturday night. A nice lad who I had enjoyed several meetings with coffee...even a walk on the puny beach here in Portland. ( A beach by the way that if you don't keep an eye on the tide... you best know how to swim!) But this was going to be the date. The one that would include being swiped away in his convertible Saab out of the city, up the coast, and to his waterfront home in Brunswick, Me. There I would be fed lot's of smoked meats and fine wine's and the like. I would then be treated to a first hand look at this lad's world famous photography. This to was exciting. There were photograph's of Queen Elizabeth, Steven King, and then some real artsy stuff as well. I was very impressed. To say the least. I then spent the rest of the evening soaking in a hot tub, over looking the ocean. A straight shot to Portugal. I have not been doing much dating since Steve and I split up...but this one will go down as one of the best ever. Until the next morning.

I was not really expecting the other shoe to drop. I knew it was a bit imaginary. But, as I savored my final bit's of the Soufflé style Omelet loaded with fresh veggies...I felt like I was in a dream. And I couldn't wait to get back to the hot tub and enjoy the nice brisk morning of ocean scented sunshine. Then, I take my plate to the kitchen. My brilliant worldly photographer had excused himself a few seconds earlier. SO I thought I would take a lead and at least rinse my plate before I dash back to the hot tub! I couldn't believe my eyes. The kitchen looked like gale force winds had recently swept through it. It was an utter mess... It looked like days and days of mess. Food everywhere. Food on the floor, half empty snack bags scattered about. Pot's and pan's I was sure had not been used during my over night stay there. I was sure I would have noticed this earlier. In normal circumstances I would have had to stop my entire life right then and there and launch a full scale investigation. And make sure any unanswered questions I had were explained with reason... and then formulate a solution. But this was not a normal situation. I was getting back to that hot tub with a fresh cup of coffee and a cigarette come hell or high water. I knew he was entertaining guests later that day so I just excused this mess with that. Sure that was it, he just got up much earlier than I and prepared all the food for his afternoon delight and everything was neatly stacked covered in colorful plastic wraps in the fridge. And that any minute the maid would arrive to clean it all up, then offer me a fresh topping of hand whipped cream for my coffee as I basked in the hot tub. Indeed.

About an hour later I snapped out of sleep that ended no sooner than it began with my coffee mug twirling around to the jet streams in the tub. I looked around and there was still no sign of my host. So I grabbed another smoke and forced myself to sit still and not investigate his where abouts. Even though I knew the time had come. And at this point I was slightly aggravated... so I stood up and flicked my cigarette into the ocean. Impatiently I slipped on my guest house coat, and began storming through this mini mansion. I started at the master bathroom where the door was locked shut. I heard water running and classical music and felt relieved. SO I descended back down stairs to the kitchen. Fixing my hair all the while so that I looked proper for the maid when I introduced myself. The maid never came. But there was a new addition to the kitchen counter. It was the turkey that had been smoking out side all night. The thing is...It was shredded to bits.
"God Damn sea gull's are relentless" I said. Either that or there is now a fabulous turkey salad with cranberries and walnuts joining it's counter parts in the fridge.

Just then my host came running into the room fully dressed but on a rampage. Tossing things about at his desk and rummaging through papers. "Get dressed" he said. "I need to go to my support group at once. And, I really need you to come with me!!! I need your HELP!!" To this I rolled around on the heal of my foot to look out the window. Are you fucking kidding me with this? I thought. We didn't even finish the second bottle of wine last night. So I shut my eyes and said to my self Joel. Don't forget about your new Deli Isle motto...support this man. Put your arm around him and walk him to the car. Even offer to drive. He clearly is beside himself. And I will not tolerate manic driving. So! I smile at him as I close my house coat. (guest house coat) And say, "sure, no problem, give 2 minutes and 30 second's. I'll meet you at the carport"

Three minutes later I am behind the wheel of what drives like a Ford but is called a Saab. The roof is down. The sun is bright. And I think the only thing that could make this moment complete is a 10 foot silk scarf tied around my neck blowing out the back of the convertible. Ah yes how lovely. Then I look over at my troubled passenger, and further think...then my fabulous silk scarf will get caught in the rim of the back wheel and yank me out of this vessel only to bring this wonderful date to it's violent and dramatic ending. Ahh yes I think. And smile.

And just think...the other shoe STILL has not dropped!!!

After following his directions. We arrive at what appears to be a rather large ultra modern church. Very unlike the one I attended on Palm Sunday. There are hundreds of cars in the lot. And of course this intrigues me. "This must be one hell of a support group" I say with a twinkling smile. Aswe approach the door. There is an easel with a dark blue sign on it. It reads..
Welcome FA. And in my sarcastic wit. I think oh great. Welcome Fat ASS. This proves to be the horror that I would have never EVER Imagined I was getting myself into this time. Once inside we approach a table with well dressed artificial smiles. My Favorite!!! YAY I think. Lucky me.
At the table I am asked to sign in and to write out my name tag...Hello my Name is "Fat ASS" I wanted so dearly to write instead of JOWAL. Yes I wrote JOWAL. Because I can't stand when someone reads my name out loud and can't even pronounce it properly. 90 percent of the time in my life I am called JOLE. Not JOWAL. (that is also the gauge I use when deciding if someone as smart as a doctor is good enough to treat me....Jowal not Jole)

Next, I am handed a folder and several Pamphlet's. It is on the folder that a sticker sticks. And reveals the meaning of FA. This is when I hold my head back and look towards the ceiling in hopes that I can catch the shoe that some terrible force of hatred towards me feels the need to hurl at me. I am going to catch that shoe...and throw it back at them. Then, I am going to run the fuck out of here. Steal the Saab. And get my ass back to Portland at nothing short of 90 miles an hour.

"Welcome to Food Addicts in Recovery uh, JOWAL, please take your seat here" says a very gay man in a bright green IZOD sweater with matching socks. He is thin and cocky. And all I can think is how much I do not want to sit next to him. I already knew he was going to try and coach me. And I was already developing my plan to snap his glasses off his face and toss them across the room so that he can no longer see. I did manage to compose myself and take my seat. I was even able to tune out most of the speeches and sob stories for almost 2 hours. Although, my Cambells soup commercial syndrome was in full force. Each time another person got up to speak I just agonized my dramatic fall to the floor for the invisible forces to drag me out the door. Then as if things could get no worse ever ever ever in life. It is announced that it is time to eat!!
This has got to be a fucking Joke I thought. A Cruel fucking joke to these people. I mean...do they do the same thing at AA?? Do they announce it's time to bust out the TaKillYA! Grab your shot glasses!!! What the Fuck??? It was no joke though. Suddenly all these hundreds of people run to their bags and pull out HUGE plastic Glad containers filled with lettuce and cereal's. Then they all formed groups each with their sponsor. UGGG

I run over to my famous photographer and remind him that we forgot to bring "lunch". And just as I had convinced him that we should really be getting me back to Portland. My Neon Green fairy hornet is by my side offering me canned kippers. I decline the kippers. And give the photographer a look. THE LOOK. Then my fairy in Green says how great I look. And that it looks like I only have about "10 or 15 more pounds to go. "Oh" I said. "I'm not really part of the program, I am just here to support my friend. I found him crying hysterically in the Deli Isle this morning and I just knew he had to get here right away!"

It was a long ride back to Portland. But that was only because I was no longer in the driver's seat.