Mocking

The word "mocktail" tends to bring about an involuntary shudder.  Hey guys, don't worry about not drinking - you can enjoy a syrupy, grenadine filled, sugary mess.  Still, TOH and I enjoy cocktail hour - we play a bit of backgammon, read, put something on the record player, and enjoy whatever we've learned to make recently.  Of late, it's been a Sazerac, a decidedly alcoholic beverage off limits for February.

My wariness was mislaid, however, when it came to the Mellow Yellow from the ever reliable Tasting Table.  Despite the unpromising name, it was tangy, refreshing, not at all sweet, and echoed the complexity one gets with a well made cocktail.  And its tastiness was worth the reward of going through ones usual cocktail rituals - our beautiful, boxy red coupe glasses chilled in the freezer, the cocktail thoroughly shaken in an art deco inspired cocktail shaker.

Of course, conversation led to which spirit would go best in the drink.  I thought a bourbon, but TOH's suggestion of mezcal seemed even better.  We'll let you know but, for now, this works beautifully.

Drybruary VI

This year sees me embark on year SIX of No Booze in February (TM).  As per usual, I am looking forward to it providing me with a chance to explore other sources of entertainment during the month.  This year I am hoping to make it to the members' preview of the Kehinde Wiley exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum, Into the Woods, and my new favourite thing that I discovered last year - seeing the Oscar-nominated Animated Shorts and Documentary Shorts, which I'll be doing in a mega evening this upcoming Friday. 

Otherwise, it's a chance to catch up sleep, reading, tv, and do a lot of cooking.  Not much more exciting than that, but that's part of the point - a calm, slow month in which I hunker down and take advantage of the excuse to say no to going out, no to socialising, and yes to recovering some energy and zest for the rest of the year.  With six weddings, significant family birthdays, and other traveling obligations, it will hopefully carry me through those with a little more pep.

The Good Life (Sort Of)

It's Memorial Day Weekend here in the US of A, and we've spent it jollying around on a boat, eating and drinking a lot, and indulging in the sunshine that has finally emerged after a few weeks of rain.  This is after several weeks of visitors and overindulgence generally.  It's not been particularly taxing except on our bodies, which are feeling a tad flabby and underexercised, and our psyches, which are feeling tired and flabby and slow.  So, despite several events that we're already committed to in the upcoming weeks, a month of austerity - financial, physical and emotional - sounds good, if only to provide a contrast to the previous month in which I've been a little out of control.  

So my aim is, for each week:

• Exercise: two boxing classes; one yoga class; and one football match (or equivalents).
• Food & drink: No processed white carbs (i.e. bread, pasta) during the week; no beer during the week; one glass of wine per day maximum.
• Reading: each day I am to read all of one way on the subway (as opposed to procrastinating and listening to podcasts).
• Movies: one a week.

EEEEEEK.  I'm sure I can do it.  Surely.  

The Morning After the Night Before

So, I drank last night. The first drink was at one of my favourite bars in Brooklyn, and it was a strong one: the Aviation, a combination of gin, maraschino liqueur and creme de violette. I did have a couple more drinks over the space of the evening - a michelada at Caracas, a purveyor of gorgeous arepas, and then something called a Honey Bear. They were nice indeed, although the michelada was the drink I enjoyed the most, I think. I have to learn how to make a good one.

This morning I did not too clever, I have to say. I paced myself last night - three drinks in four hours. Lots of water, lots of food. But this morning I felt rancid. Stomach churning, head hurting a little. But it wasn't those things that bothered me the most; instead, it was the fuzziness, impreciseness, forgetfulness. I am not good in the mornings at the best of times, but this morning I had to go back to the house twice: once to change my coat (mine was covered in goodness knows what stain - from arepas sauce, I think), and then again to pick up my work pass. I really feel as if I've been clearer-headed in the past month. Having not had any for a while, it was fascinating to fully experience the effect of alcohol in much greater depth and detail than one does if one drinks a lot.

It's only an initial foray back into drinking, so I should not make grand pronouncements. But I think a potential lesson is that quantity for the sake of it is not worthwhile. Certainly not on a school night. But, also, no need to overreact, eh?

One Giant Leap Back for Womankind

Today is February 29. It is a significant day for three reasons.

First, selfishly enough, it is important because it marks the last day of my month of abstinence. I'll reflect on that after my weekend which will involve drinking, I think, but I feel this month really has been different from previous years' efforts. Second, it's the birthday of various people whose birthdays only come every four years. Yay to you, Joss Ackland!

Third, more significantly, it's the traditional flip of tradition, given that someone years ago decided that today would be the day that women ask men to marry them. It's led to an astonishingly depressing set of conversations on FB about how only men should ask women and lots of expressions of horror at the thought of a woman asking a man. It's hard to start expressing my unhappiness at the tone and positions behind it. Needless to say, I disagree, but I also dislike the whole you-have-to-wait-for-someone because obviously you as a woman are desperate to get married. Ugh. Also: gay proposals. Men get asked; women do the asking. It's not sex-specific and it won't kill you or your relationship.

I keep thinking that my views are fairly common, that it's normal to decide together because you're both so in love and you're planning together to share your lives and all the legal obligations and benefits that come from that. Instead it's about him deciding, but enough people have written about that, and it's not just bad from that perspective. Recently I've been talking to people whose friends have planned increasingly ridiculously elaborate proposals. So now there's a shedload of pressure on him to come up with something special, something to tell the kids, something to post on bloody facebook. It's like weddings - the pressure to create something special, to basically be the star in your own movie or fairytale, seems ludicrous, expensive, and overwhelming. I wonder what it is that's making us feel we all need that, that the normal/everyday can't be special. Weddings are fun - I love them, absolutely - but there's so much pressure on them and given that divorce rates are so high, why not just concentrate on how wonderful is to hang out with the person you love, and to choose to spend the rest of your life with them - whether or not you legalise it?

Bah humbug. I probably just need a drink.

Promises Made, Promises Broken*

Yesterday, February 15, I did indeed break my something green every day resolution. It just completely slipped my mind. Because I had soup for lunch instead of a salad, I went home fully intending to eat a veggie burger and spinach, but, for some reason, the need for comfort food and self-indulgence took over. So instead I ate leftover paella (cooked from scratch by a rather lovely friend) with leftover aioli and gorgeous red cabbage braised in stock (another friend**). Oops. I really did just forget. It was only today that I remembered that I hadn't eaten anything green at all. Gah. So it's double duty today - salad for lunch, spinach for supper. Still, usually the problem with nothing green is that I eat nothing healthy at all. Whereas yesterday I had vegetable soup for lunch and a LOT of cabbage. So that's something.

In other news, I'm over halfway through the month of living abstemiously. This is the first year that I'm attempting no days off whatsoever. Of course, this is inconveniently the first leap year that's happened while I do the abstinence thing, so it's extra torturous. Except, of course, it's not that bad at all. I had to nix the idea of wine tasting in RI this weekend, but otherwise it's not really affecting my life too much. It's boring, but that's ok. Early nights and lots of reading works for me and, in particular, my bank balance

* This is the title of a Tiffany song. No, really. No judgment, kids - it was 1987 and we all loved her. I remember my Dad being HIGHLY unimpressed when I bought the album (tape cassette, obviously) in Our Price in Lewisham Shopping Centre. I am unwilling, even now, to concede he was right about how rubbish it was, despite clear evidence to the contrary.

** Saturday was the best dinner party ever, in that we had friends over and they provided all the food and drinks. All we had to do was a dip and provide the space, plus the washing up. I like dinner parties like that.

Testing, Testing

I've probably remarked on it before, but the main tests of abstinence are not the big nights out; it's relatively easy to avoid going out for drinks if you're not drinking (surprise!). What are difficult are those nights after a long, cold, wet day when you could really do with a glass of red wine; or, like today, when I wandered around a cold, snowy London, and saw people huddled in gorgeous old pubs, and I experienced a serious yen for a whiskey mac, with its spice and warmth.*

But the biggest test in all four days was likely to be the biggest test of all this whole month: getting on a plane last night. TOH and I are now, for our sins and for a horrible carbon footprint, experienced overnight flyers, and one has to have a set routine to maximise sleep. One has to take it seriously and treat it like a military operation. The steps are simple:

• Make sure carry on luggage contains a sleep mask, a neck pillow, noise-reducing headphones and a pre-arranged sleep inducing playlist.
  
• Arrive at airport fairly early, early enough for a big, carbo-loaded dinner, such as burger and fries. Nothing light or energising - something heavy and greasy that will send me to sleep fairly promptly. Add a giant glass of red wine.
• Once on plane put on that eye mask and use the neck pillow and just fall asleep. Seriously, I'm normally asleep by the end of take off.
• Don't panic when waking up shortly thereafter. I usually wake up about 45-60 minutes into the flight. Don't be tempted by the food/movies available, as this is often the time the entertainment system kicks in. Make self comfy, get the blanket out, put on playlist/noise reducing headphones, go back to sleep.
  

And that's it. No big secrets, just try to fall asleep and don't get sidetracked by waiting for food or movies. This method doesn't guarantee a huge amount of sleep, but I usually get about 5 hours on a 6.5 hour flight, which is more than most people.

Except, of course, last night I didn't have any wine. I'm afraid I cheated somewhat, in that I took cold medicine that I specifically chose for its ability to cause drowsiness. And it worked. And, bonus, my sinuses feel not too bad today. But I really was worried that I would have to crack last night. Luckily, it worked and I got about 4.5 hours. Not perfect, but probably more than most people in economy.

God, this post is dull. I blame the tiredness and not drinking. Off to catch some more sleep.

* Whiskey and ginger wine, for those who don't know - an absolutely glorious winter warmer that was apparently, strangely enough, invented in the Raj - at least, it was if you believe wiki.

The Month of Living Abstemiously: The 2012 Edition

No drinking in February tends to come at a most opportune moment. Today it feels most welcome, having spent a weekend overindulging at friends' nuptials in the Caribbean. That was terribly indulgent, and Sunday my body utterly rebelled at the thought of more booze for supper; this, of course, came in response to drinking rum most of the early evening while on a catamaran. Ahem. So I'm very much looking forward to it, along with trying to keep up with some healthier living i.e. exercise. I've not done much of that at all.

I've also failed utterly at two of my four resolutions - walking home and a movie. But:

• Tonight I am going to see a friend for dinner and I'm going to walk the three miles between work and the restaurant to meet her, so that's a start.

• I watched two movies on the plane to and from the nuptials - Moneyball, which made me really want to read the book (and delight in the badarsedness that is Brad Pitt), and Crazy Stupid Love, which I liked a lot more than I was expecting - although given that that was about zero, it's not saying much. Julianne Moore is just lovely, but it really would have been nice to have seen the movie flesh out why she wanted a divorce, but that wouldn't have fit with the narrative. Instead we got a lot of Steve Carrell (who I'm still on the fence about) and Ryan Gosling, who is nothing but a pleasure to watch, for many reasons.

And as tomorrow starts February off to a no-drinking bang, it's all go for seriously maintaining the other resolutions. I have had something green every single day, and it's been pretty easy, although I've had to go out of my way a couple of times to make it happen. It's been good for me so far, I think.

March Mehness

A frequent question during my month off drinking is "Why February?" January makes more sense to a lot of people - the excesses of December need to be shirked from one's body and I have quite a few friends who do choose January. But January is cold, bitter, and (most importantly) TOH's birthday, so I can't choose January. Plus, why go cold turkey? Foolish.

My usual blithe (and honest) answer is that February is the shortest month. Yes, I give myself a day off for VD so that TOH and I can enjoy a bottle or two of plonk. So, in fact, it's only 27 days. But that seems enough for me.

Some people suggest March, however, little preparing themselves for the horror that suggestion inspires. Frankly, March is already dreadful enough without prohibiting myself from a warming glass of bourbon, a comforting spicy red wine or something along those lines. I have grown to loathe March since moving to the US. At home it's nippy and windy and rainy, it's true, but it's somehow offset by the blossom and blooms and sense that the year really is progressing to warmer, nicer weather. By this time of year the magnolia tree on my road is in near to full bloom, Mum and I hopefully will have already had a trip out to see the bluebells, and there will be crocuses and daffodils everywhere, with the air often heavy with the smell of hyacinths.

Days like today solidify my loathing. It's extremely gloomy; the clocks having changed made no odds this morning with the murky light barely penetrating my windows, making it seem as if I were up at half five instead of closer to eight. It's just above freezing, and raining, although we're promised by the weather people that this will all clear up this afternoon and be positively warm starting tomorrow. But, not trusting March, I can't quite believe there won't still be some sting in the tail, some snow left to come. The mini gardens along the route to work are still scrubby and brown, there's hardly any foliage anywhere as of yet. There are daffodils poking their green shoots out in the garden but they won't arrive fully for another couple of weeks yet.

Many people complain about the "summer" in Britain, whether from there or overseas, but for me, it's a very close run thing as to whether I'd prefer the NYC summers (which are often filled with disgusting humidity, thunderstorms and insect bites beyond belief) or an earlier, longer spring, rather than the four weeks we get in April/May before it becomes sweltering.

Pros & Cons

Things that are great about not drinking:

• No hangover. Although I'm tired, it seems I do sleep more deeply than if drunk (actually getting some decent sleep) and thus while a lot of being hungover is the tiredness, even the curtailed sleep is better when not drinking.
  
• Eating better. Not just while drinking but the next day, too.
• Lots of exclamations of admiration at one's willpower and determination and falsely modest disclaimers from me in response.
• Resistance of peer pressure does not come into the equation. I can't get talked into "one more" because I'm not having any, so my personal control doesn't really matter.
  

Things that are not great about not drinking

• Boredom with drinks (and everyone else's boredom with my boredom with drinks - last night's grapefruit & soda water was quite nice, and then I had a gingery lovely concoction at this place, complete with preserved ginger, which I loved).
  
• Having to repeat conversations because the people who were drunk don't remember it all
• Realisation that when one is drunk, one is rather less together, smooth, sophisticated and funny than one thinks one is. Collective drunkenness is clearly an enhancer.
  

Water Everywhere

One of the bonuses of not drinking alcohol is the increased intake of water that I experience. Or, rather, it should be. Instead, I am bored of it. Absolutely, mindnumbingly bored of it. Yesterday I drank it with orange juice; during the week I had limes and seltzer.

I'm sure my skin will benefit, particularly given that the frigid winter outside means a lot of time indoors with central heating at full blast (New York buildings don't tend to do heating or air conditioning by halves). It's all well and good being hydrated, but it's dull when there are no options. Fizzy drinks aren't exactly a great option given the ridiculous amount of sodium I would consume if I let myself. I can't take much caffeine, but I am resorting to a nice cuppa in the evening. It's not (yet) affecting my sleep, and is a refreshing change. Thus I found myself having one at a dinner party at 11 last night.

The not drinking is, in itself, actually fine. I've not really felt any desperate envy or unhappiness at not being able to drink, despite going to a concert, a club, and a dinner party with good friends who enjoy their wine. Perhaps it's the fact that roughly at the halfway point, Valentine's Day, I get to have a drink, but it really feels like less of a hardship than doing something slightly out of my usual routine, my normal comfort zone. Take yesterday, for example. Any other month of the year I would have rocked up to the office party (we get wine and a variety of nice foods on Fridays from 5.30), eaten and drunk, and then headed to my monthly wine club. Instead, I booked myself into a bikram class and sweated out the week's stresses and headed for a relatively calm dinner. It's not better, or preferable, even; it's just good to try something different and feel that I'm taking advantage of not drinking rather than feeling like I'm depriving myself.

So what I'm trying to say is so far, so good.

Testing, Testing

Yesterday was the Super Bowl and although I ate my own body weight in wings and seven-layer-dip I refused to engage in that tempting brew of alcohol. It was... well, it just changed things, I suppose. The Super Bowl is often an all day drinkathon - which, given that I was to be up and on the 6.43 from Providence to Penn this morning, it's probably a good thing it was not. Instead, we went snowshoeing (which, by the way, is extremely hard work), cooked and ate but didn't go bonkers. It was fine, but it's always disappointing to find you've bought some lovely healthy looking lemon-flavoured seltzer watery type thing, all very European looking and sparkly and fresh, only to discover it contains more sugar than booze. So again this month may feature a lot of moaning about the alternatives to alcoholic beverages. I apologise in advance.

On the other hand, I thought it was a pretty good match last night, although I was increasingly stressed at and concerned by the Steelers' seemingly inevitable comeback last night. More power to you, Mr. Rodgers, I thought it was a thoroughly deserved MVP award and you were rather good.

Resolutions: January Update

2011's resolutions are actually going ok so far. Here's an update (other than this update):

1. Shooting, Shooting, Shooting: Take the camera off auto-settings. Well, I'm definitely trying this stuff. It's proving a little tricky - I thought it was just the shutter/aperture but apparently I've got to mess with the ISO settings as well, it not being a film-based camera. I'm still not sure how to change the ISO settings - I seem to change them but end up doing weird things to the menu, too. I've also been using the wide-angled lens and messing around with it. I'm not getting classic shots but, hopefully, I'm getting a little better. Most things are, thus far, overexposed. I'm trying to use the histogram feature to teach myself what the problem is and, thus, how to fix it. But it's usually overexposure.
   
2. Cooking, cooking, and more cooking. Doing well on this one. On Thursday (SNOW DAY!) I made a "peppery beef stew" from our Italian slow cooking book that was absolutely brilliant, with fresh bread and acorn squash lightly braised in chicken stock. Very easy and very tasty.
   
3. Reading, reading and more reading. This is the biggest failure so far. I got out The French Lieutenant's Woman and had to promptly return it unread to the library. Oops.
   
4. Looking, looking and more looking - at exhibitions. This has been the best kept resolution thus far. On Saturday I went to the Balenciaga retrospective with someone who actually knows about fashion and art. The structure of the exhibition was to show the influence of Spanish culture - religion, art, flamenco, bullfighting - on Balenciaga's designs. It worked extremely well, I thought. One of the most remarkable things was how he took traditional male outfits - cassocks for monks/priests, doublets for knights - and made them into a feminine design. And he was doing this well before trousers became truly acceptable, everyday clothing for women. I really wanted to steal half the clothing - gloriously structured suits with remarkable detailing, and one extraordinary dress with a train that actually had pockets so you could switch it up into a cape. Plus one that looked like a giant black truffle that you could just picture being worn by a mistress at a funeral of a famous Casanova or conductor or raconteur - that would make a serious statement.
   
   Additionally, we rejoined the Brooklyn Museum and had a look around the Norman Rockwell exhibition currently showing. It was extraordinary. Rockwell took tens to hundreds of photos for each of his paintings, and then selected odd little bits here and there to compose his actual painting. How he chose them is beyond me - that shows the real creativity but also mastery and control he exerted over the final version. Yet it seems strange that paintings that were supposed to be naturalistic snaps of everyday American life were so carefully controlled and thought out, so contrived. A strange juxtaposition. Seeing the covers of the Post, too, provided amusement at some of the stories - one featured Klaus Fuchs, the traitor at the Manhattan Project who was selling secrets about the bomb to the Russians; another advertised an article querying whether husbands should be used as baby-sitters to your own children. Also remarkable - the only people of colour were several black people used in servile roles - apparently that was editorial policy and ended up contributing to Rockwell's severing of the relationship. We also saw The Dinner Party and an amazing Kara Walker - I find her work constantly interesting and beautiful - so it was grand.
   
5. Solving, solving, solving. I've been getting back into these and while not completing them, I am - with some, at least - getting back into the swing of them and increasingly able to do them. But I need be a more devoted student with concentrated blocks of time rather than small snippets here and there.

Right, that's January. Midnight on Monday and I start the now annual No Drinking in February. I'm actually looking forward to it quite a great deal.

ps I also managed to go to the movies on Friday! I know! Have now seen THREE of the ten movies nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars - what an achievement. It was True Grit and comes highly recommended by me - surprisingly funny, tender and tense - I really enjoyed it.

Temptation, Thy Name Is...

... either Brasserie (well, precisely, cucumber gimlets at Brasserie) or business class complimentary drinks. Tonight I shall be travelling overseas for my first business trip and, alas, I will not be able to take advantage of the joys of free booze on a plane. It's making me very annoyed, actually. And last night, another Shirley Temple was required to stave off the jealousy at not being able to tuck into a cucumber gimlet - which also broke my personal rules for living - or a nice glass of Sancerre. Dagnabbit.

I will have to content myself with purchasing local liquor and bringing in a hipflask on Monday.

Obviously, that's a joke. Obviously.

A Nice Glass of...

... what, exactly? One of the problems of not drinking is it makes me realise how limited my beverage choice is. To whit:

• Can't have caffeine after 6pm (breaking that rule today, and I will pay for it later)
• Juice is full of sugars that are not good sugars (i.e. have turned to alcohol)
• Non-caffeinated beverages like ginger beer (NOT ale) and lemonade/sprite-type things are full of sugar - or are diet and full of nutrasweet which, frankly, scares me and also tastes a little like washing-up liquid when you think about it
  
• Caffeine-free coke is... well, it's just that I don't want to drink it, not that I do not like it
  
• Milk is yummy but again, full of fats and calories that seem wasted because a) they are not cheese or b) wine
• Water I love dearly, but I don't want to drink a ton of it and be up half the night. It'd be much preferable if shops in the US sold squash but, alack, they tend not to - or it costs about a tenner

So, you see, drinking really is the optimal option. Roll on March 1.

First (& Second) Hurdles

Onto week 2 of No Booze in February (NBIF). Thus far, I've had the first of my passes, for the Super Bowl. I'm afraid I drank beer other than light beer; I think I may have managed to avoid breaking the rule if we hadn't discovered that the wonderful Brooklyn Beer & Soda sells my favourite Tico beer, Imperial, for not much more than the bars in Costa Rica - which was, at least, impressively cheap. So I drank a few of those, and felt a) quite light-headed quite quickly indeed and b) rancid on waking up on Monday morning. Although the recovery was remarkably quick, interestingly enough.

Yesterday evening was the first real test, the real temptation, however. Because it was one of those casual, lovely meals with great foodie friends, who were salivating over the claret they had ordered - a Bordeaux Saint Colombe '05 which, apparently, was earthy and bloody (suitably enough for claret) and went extremely well with the incredibly good burgers we had last night. It smelt divine. It was a genuine test of my resolve that I passed, but by which I was saddened. Roll on March.

The Month of Living Abstemiously: The 2010 Edition

Tomorrow starts my annual giving up booze, given that it's the start of February. Last year I gave myself four passes - PLUS the Super Bowl. Ridiculous. This year, not so much. This year I plan to take it a bit more seriously. I was originally planning to give myself three passes plus SB, but have abandoned that and decided that this February I can have light beer while watching the Super Bowl, wine on Valentine's Day, and that's it.*

Because there are no passes, I'm attracting a little more attention this year - no Wine Club, for example, which makes me very sad as I've not been in ages. So I've had to explain my reasons. I think they are, essentially:

1. Just to see if I can. Alcohol is, for better or worse, an integral part of my life. There are the worse things (like my head this morning after last night) and the better things (a solitary glass of great, earthy red wine as I enjoyed with an unbelievable duck dish at Dovetail this week, or a small but lovely glass of nutty, earth bourbon after a meal). It's partly, therefore, a test of resolve and also partly a way to recognise how lovely it can be, and not to take it for granted by drinking for the sake of it.
   
2. Calorie consumption. Not just the alcohol itself, but I often eat far more than I need to both during and the next day. So a month of reduced consumption and more mindful eating is always good.
3. Change of lifestyle. It's nice to find alternate things to do - going to the cinema, museums, having a nice quiet night in with cocoa and a book. Just to shake things up a bit and try something different. Of course, it's nice to do those things with a good glass of wine, or a refreshing cold beer, but that's not the point. Early nights are much more likely, and given that I've not been sleeping brilliantly of late, this may help.
   

So here we go, like a sales force into the night. See you on the other side!



* Unless my very dear friend's divorce comes through, and then we're going for spirits. Because, really, what else is there to do?

It Makes Us Happy

Yes, I had tequila last night. It was... fine. And no real aftermath today, which is good. I had a g&t at a bar, and really, really felt it, so had a couple of pints of water. Then, a marg, another (2nd made by SS who is a marg-making genius, so it was much the better one) and a corona - which is effectively water, anyway. It was fine, not the wonders of a cold beer at the end of a hard day, but it was fun, and definitely revived a flagging me after catching the redeye back from CA on Thursday night.

So, slowly reintroducing myself into the world of booze, and I'm ok. I really am looking forward to a glass of red wine and a steak tonight. Just need to take it easy again.

In honour of the margarator:

Reunited

Will it feel so good? Tonight marks the start of drinking again and this weekend's activities are probably just NOT what the doctor ordered - a night with the margarator and a night with the biggest boozers I know, which will doubtlessly descend into a bar somewhere after a civilised supper.

Because what I have discovered about myself is that I can, weirdly, cope in the boisterous, big social situations that I thought previously would be horrendous - work dos, parties with dancing, etc. It's not ideal for me, but it's doable. You say you're not drinking for the month, people think you're weird and that's it. And you get to watch the madness of the drinking of others which can be mildly entertaining. I don't miss the huge nights - well, I particularly don't miss the mornings after. Sleeping alcohol-free is glorious.

What I have missed are the small pleasures that it brings. A glass of good red wine with a good Italian meal. A beer and a takeaway on a Friday night while watching multiple episodes of 30 Rock. That sort of thing. The message I'm taking from this month has been that I don't automatically have to have alcohol, and being more considered about my intake is a really good thing. But I really am not prepared to give it up entirely - I enjoy it far too much.

One thing that I must note, however, is that I really have done this mostly to say that I have done it. I couldn't bear the thought of caving, and so I didn't. But it was often predominantly a pride thing, rather than being convinced in the project's inherent worth. I don't know what to think about that. What I do know is that February will be dry from hereon. If I can. So it must have done me some good.

Tomorrow: Report on the aftermath of Pass # 3.

Passes used: 2/4.
Days without alcohol in February: 23.
Consecutive days without alcohol: 19.

So near and yet...

Saturday is officially my last day of abstinence. However, those that have read my previous post on The Month of Living Abstemiously will know that I had two passes remaining as of last week and, indeed, I still have them. They are to be used tomorrow in a reunion with The Margarator and on Saturday at a very generous (and belated) Bar-Passing celebration at a restaurant with a steady and cheap wine list. So although Saturday is the last day of February, my final day of no alcohol is today.

It's been... strange. I have wanted to cave but haven't really been that close to doing so. I did have a couple of (disgusting) non-alcoholic beers on Sunday after footie, but that's it. Never again - it's going to be full throttle next year, no substitutes. I'm going to reflect more fully on it this weekend, but just to let you know what I have survived/struggled through without le booze, I have compiled a list of some notable occasions:

• Three days with work people at a retreat surrounded by free booze.
• One birthday party which ran lateish and had serious dancing, with a ton of people I didn't know - and my partner in abstinence using one of his passes. Luckily, though, the birthday girl and her husband are both seriously off the booze (since October, the nutters), so it wasn't too much pressure.
• A Pure Romance party. NOT what I had imagined we were doing when a friend invited us over for cocktails. But that's for another day. Note: "Romance" means the down and dirty. Interesting how and when the two are conflated thus.
• Valentine's Day.
• A day of guitar hero at my house on the long weekend (Presidents' Day).
• Schmoozing on the west coast with tons of local, yummy wine at my disposal. Sigh. Thank God we haven't attempted to get to Napa. I'd cry.

Passes used: 2/4.
Days without alcohol in February: 22.
Consecutive days without alcohol: 18.