Happy Fourth of July

It's the fifth of July and I have spent the last three days at pool parties with heavy drinkers. And you know what? I didn't have to drink! I did consume my weight in diet coke's, but I didn't have to have a touch of alcohol. At some point someone spilled a beer on my leg and I felt like Lindsey Lohan, ankle bracelet a buzzin.

I'm off in a minute to another party, and I know that I can have a great time and stay sober no matter what.

July is a kind of tough month. My grandpa died two years ago on the 11th. Grandpa, you say, but they are supposed to die before you! Yeah, but he was really special. He was my rock. He was the one who protected me from the worst, and yet plunged me into difficult situations. If I were a guy, I would say he's the reason I became a man. He made me strong by giving me responsibilities, and he held me up through the toughest spots in life.

At his funeral, I was a mess. I wept more than my mother did.

And after, my whole alcoholic family got shitfaced together. I drank with them all, and when they retired to their hotel rooms I went and sat in the bar. I wallowed in my scotch until Adam called and offered me a ride home. As usual, he always knows when to call. I sure needed a friend that moment.

And now, two years later, I can celebrate my grandpa by doing something good for myself - by being a better woman. I know this would make him proud. I know he's smiling at me from wherever the good men go, and thinking I'm finally making good choices for myself.

I love you Poppa.