A nice stressful beach vacation

My drunk ass cousin just offered me a week in Ft. Lauderdale on the beach, free room and board. So tempting, though I hate Florida. (It's an irrational hate, I know.) She said we could sit on the beach and drink pina coladas. No, I haven't told her I joined AA.

There are two problems with that. What do you do when you're sitting on the beach soaking up the rays and used to drinking a nice fruity alcoholic drink? Is it diet Coke time again? Do you just order the virgin drink? I bet a virgin bloody Mary is alright. An Arnold Palmer actually sounds really good right now. Something sweet and cold. So I could totally do it, though I'm totally not going. If I go anywhere it'll be to my home city so I can see my family and friends.

The other problem: I need to tell her I stopped drinking so she doesn't try to wine me up at Christmas. She is a pusher, and she and I always get stupid drunk together. It's how we bond. And what we do when we're too sober to share our feelings on things. Ah, family.

I told her son this morning. We call him Nancy Reagan, he's so sober. He's always been that way, probably because he watched his mom his whole life, and she's a major drink and drug abuser. Classy. He was really happy. He said now we just need to get Diane to do it. Which will never happen. Well, miracles can happen, just probably not with her. She'll drink herself to death one day.

So when to tell her. She's going to be pissed, and try to talk me out of it. She's the kind of person who can cut you to the quick in an instant. She knows where all the chinks in my armour are. I need to be careful. So I'll wait until I'm more sober. Till my program really kicks in and takes over my being. I'll wait till I'm strong enough to resist her persistence, and can stand up for myself. I may have to wait years for that one.