Being Before Doing

What we are comes before what we do. 


 In order to produce good fruit, the tree has to be a good tree. If I  am not whole, integrated, and in touch with myself and God, the actions I take will not be satisfying.

Being abstinent is more important than anything I can do. Through abstinence all things are possible. I still have to make choices, deal with frustration and conflict, and accept some defeats; the difference is that I am  coping with reality rather than escaping.

The best things I do are those which God does through me. I must simply be ready and available, a sharpened tool which God may use. I may not see the ultimate results of our actions but I trust that what I do will be acceptable and according to God's will.

May I be what You intend.

The Answer to ALL My Problems

I got this little gem from my counselor in rehab. Can't recall how many times I repeated to myself "Acceptance is the answer to all of my problems today." It's no secret that the philosophies that guide recovery can be applied to life in general. Take out the word "addiction" in the paragraph below and replace it with whatever you might be struggling with...it might make your day a little easier.

Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation – some fact of my life – unacceptable to me. I can find no serenity until I accept that fact of my life as being exactly the way it’s supposed to be at this moment. Nothing happens in God’s world by mistake. Until I could accept my addiction I could not stay clean. Unless I accept life completely on life’s terms, I cannot be happy. I need only to concentrate on what needs to be changed in me and my attitudes. 

Thankful

Becoming clean is a beautiful demonstration of realizing God's salvation in a deeply personal and incredibly personal way. Getting clean is the price of admission to a program that teaches one her weaknesses, tragedies, and desperate need for a Savior.

Seven months and twenty five days ago I started my journey of recovery. I stopped living in denial and started learning how to make living amends for what I had done.

I am thankful for sobriety and the many people who have helped (and continue to help) me achieve it.

Most importantly, I am thankful to God for enabling me to break the terrible cycle of addiction. Ultimately is was only through HIM that I was restored to sanity.

Sanity and sobriety are two things I am thankful for every single day.

Chasing the Why

A few weeks after I got clean, my mother began to suggest that perhaps I would benefit from counseling or therapy in order to get to the root of my problem. In essence, she encouraged me to seek help so I could understand why I became addicted to pills. Her advice was well intentioned – she simply wanted me to get better and like so many other people, she assumed there had to be some reason I needed to get high. There had to be a reason her educated, reasonable daughter turned into an opiate addict.

Those in the business of helping others recover from addiction call this “chasing the whys.” They also tell you there isn’t much benefit to be had in trying to pinpoint a reason for one’s addiction. Addicts are highly skilled in denial and diversion. If it were regularly taught in rehab or 12-step meetings that in order for a person to overcome their addiction they must identify all the reasons WHY, many of us would never stay clean. We could get hung up in a blame-game or we could potentially deceive ourselves, preventing or stunting sober living. Another reason chasing those “whys” leads nowhere is because sometimes there simply isn’t a solid reason for the addiction. In rehab I learned that there are two reasons a person takes drugs or drinks: to get high/drunk or to change the way they feel. It’s that simple. So simple that it seems…complex.

My addiction to pills was primarily to change the way I felt. Not only did opiates make me feel better but they often provided the motivation I was lacking to accomplish tasks at work or home. I was WAY more productive when I was riding the high. Opiates often cause feelings of euphoria or well being…it’s no secret why I felt better on them.  I also used pills to help me feel better when I was sad or cranky or tired or whatever. Basically anytime I didn’t like the way I felt, I popped a pill to get back to that place where I felt good.

I have spent a good deal of reflection on my addiction, how it started, and where it led. I gained valuable insights about my habits and triggers. That reflection helped me better understand how my disease progressed and the things that accelerated it. Understanding those things helped me change destructive and/or unhealthy behaviors. But dwelling on the past doesn’t always encourage forward movement. As of this writing I’ve been clean for seven months and nineteen days…and I STILL don’t completely understand WHY I have the disease of addiction. At this point the important fact to remember is I have a disease that I must manage. If I don’t, it will kill me. I urge anyone in the beginning stages of recovery to not worry about why, but make that choice every day to stay clean. Like Dory from Finding Nemo sings, “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.”

Knowing what I now know about my addiction doesn’t change the fact that I have an incurable disease. It doesn’t change the way I deal with daily struggles. This disease doesn’t go away once I stop taking opiates. I’m still in the process of breaking the mental cycle of thinking I need to take a pill to help me get things done, help me feel better, help me sleep, etc. Even after almost eight months of sobriety, often my first instinct sometimes is to reach for … something to help me through.

So don’t chase the whys; just keep swimming! The longer you stay sober the better you will understand your disease and how to manage it. As they say in rehab, if you want to stay clean all you have to do is change everything. 

Bittersweet

My six-month mark was September 29^th. I can’t tell you how many times I wished I was there already, when I only had days or a few weeks of sobriety. I wanted to move forward, I wanted to be past all this. I wanted it to be over, because those who have traveled this same road kept telling me it gets easier the longer I stay clean.

Recovery is a gift. But it is a gift I had to work DAMN hard to get. And the part you don’t realize for awhile is that it’s a gift you have to work for each day. It’s something you must intentionally choose each and every day. It gets easier, yes, but I wouldn’t say that after six months this shit is easy. It’s not and I hold no illusion that it ever will be.

In the weeks leading up to my six-month mark I thought I wanted to celebrate. This was a well-earned milestone. But then I found out someone I went through rehab with had relapsed. Not only had he relapsed but I learned that the rehab, the meetings, the contrition, had pretty much been an act to help him avoid jail time. This was his fourth DUI and he was already on probation. We met in rehab and became friends. (It’s kind of hard not to when you spend six hours a day, five days a week for three weeks in a room with a group of drunks and druggies.) I believed his story. I really thought he’d stay sober, but sadly he did not. We stopped talking soon after that.

I was devastated and scared. He and I received the same education in rehab. Why him and not me? How is it that I’m living sober and he isn’t? My intense emotional reaction was exhausting. I felt dirty and terrible. I hated this ugly thing in me that I could barely control. Suddenly the thought of celebrating my six-month mark seemed…sacrilegious, disrespectful. I was humbled and didn’t want to toast my “accomplishment” when I knew of so many others like me who never made it to six months.

September 29^th came and went quietly. I spent the day reflecting. There was no special dinner. I didn’t even go to an NA meeting to get my six-month key tag. I don’t really care about that anymore. I decided to put my efforts into waking up each morning and choosing a sober life. The fact that I have the ability to decide such a thing is a gift. My recovery is a gift; one I will fight to the death to keep. I am thankful I made it to six months, but I never EVER want to visit that milestone again. Once was enough for me. 

Smells and Memories

I remember reading how a specific smell can bind with a memory or phase in your life. Whenever you smell that smell it will conjure those memories as well. Is that ever true.

The smell of Hugo Boss cologne reminds me of my friend Russell from high school. He always wore Hugo Boss and was one of my few high school crushes. Whenever I get a whiff of Hugo Boss I suddenly feel very nostalgic.

The smell of Hempz lotion reminds me of another relationship of which I not proud. It takes me back to a dark time in my life when I struggled to get past some things that were incredibly difficult. To this day I hate the smell of that lotion.

The unique smell of coffee and books (read: Barnes & Noble) reminds me of my boyfriend. We’ve spent a lot of time together in bookstores. In fact, when he’s gone (which is quite a bit considering he’s stationed overseas) I don’t like going into bookstores - the smell makes my heart ache a little. 

By accident I learned that the smell of my wet hair and Biolage conditioner sends me back to my days spent in a Florida detox facility. I had been using Biolage products at the time so that’s what my Mom brought me the day after I was admitted to Lakeview Mental Health. I don’t understand why that smell takes me back to my detox days; I’ve used Biolage for years. But it does and with it comes an avalanche of feelings.

When I arrived at Lakeview I hated it and everyone there. I didn’t want to be there. But after six days that place I despised turned into a warm little cocoon of sorts. It was a place to protect me from the outside world…and all the wreckage my addiction had caused. My prison turned into a haven. It helped me sort through the many emotions. It forced me to face those emotions sober – something I hadn’t done in a long time.

That weird smell reminds me I’m different. It reminds me of an awful time in my life when I betrayed all the people I loved the most. It reminds me of the very first time I said out loud “I have a problem.” It reminds me of how my mother dissolved into tears when I looked her in the eye and told her I was a drug addict. It reminds me of how I felt real hope for the first time in a very, very long time.

Most of all, it reminds me of the day I got sober and of the choice I make every day to stay clean. Addiction is an undertow that never completely goes away. And the thing about addiction is that it never ends well because eventually whatever it is that gets you high stops feeling good and starts to hurt. 

Another Chance

Everyone has asked, pleaded, and outright begged for another chance at some time or another. Screwing up is just part of the human experience. In my experience, addicts seem to have cornered the market when it comes to needing yet another chance. Those who have never witnessed addiction (personally or second-hand) can easily assume the addict lacks willpower, that if only she just made up her mind she could quit. I used to be one of those people. I scoffed at the notion that addiction was a legitimate disease. I used to believe that those people could stop, they just didn't want to.

God, I was so wrong. Humble pie, with or without the crow, is never easily consumed no matter how cold or warm it is.

They tell you in rehab that addiction is cycle of being unable to use (i.e., consume your drug of choice) but unable to stop. That circular reasoning can drive anyone mad: I need to stop, but I can't stop but I need to stop, but I really can't stop. Repeat that a couple thousand times a day and you get the picture. It is a cycle of insanity that the addict is powerless to break.

I recently read about "the gift of desperation". One doesn't think of desperation as a gift, but for the addict it really is. I remember that "Aha!" moment where I reached that place of desperation. It was my second night in a state-funded detox facility. I had been placed there on a psychiatric hold for losing my shit the night of my 29th birthday...the same night my mother, sister, and brother-in-law did an intervention. Needless to say, I didn't respond favorably as I ended up in a place called Lakeview Mental Health covered in dried blood and a myriad of bruises from handcuffs and my brother-in-law's (very effective) headlock. Not my finest moment.

[Side note: For the record, I think interventions can be very effective. However they can just as easily backfire and get ugly for the simple reason there isn't much reasoning to be had with a strung-out addict.]

My second night while at Lakeview I spoke on the phone with my mother. I was so, so sick. I was still fooling myself into believing I had a stomach bug. Um, hello? I was in full-blown withdrawal and sicker than a dog. While on the phone with my mom, I suddenly felt ill. With no time to make it to a bathroom I vomited right there in the hallway. There I was, laying on a dirty floor, a pool of vomit next to me. When I told one of the techs I threw up, he pointed me to the towels and instructed me to clean it up.

That was my "aha" moment. I hadn't showered in four days. I was wearing dirty clothes. My head was pounding and I was so sick I couldn't even keep anti-nausea medication down. And in the midst of all that, I was mopping up my own vomit in the dirty hallway of mental health facility that I couldn't leave. 

It was at that moment I became desperate. The scales began to crumble. I started to see what I had become, and I didn't like it. I was desperate.

What a gift that moment, that feeling, really was. I had finally reached a place where I was willing to try ANYTHING to get better. In retrospect, I am so thankful I had that moment. Little did I know at the time, but that moment became the fulcrum for my recovery. It hurt enough to elicit a desire for real change. It was my gift of desperation.

I never have thought this at that time, but I am thankful my detox experience was painful. I am thankful it was so awful. Some things need to be grim and scary and painful. Kicking an opiate habit needs to hurt.

That gift of desperation has enabled me to not only beg for another chance from those I love, it gave me the strength to stick to my recovery and stay sober. It has kept me honest and, most importantly, it has enabled my loved ones to begin to trust me again.

Desperation is a gift for the recovering addict.

The Ripple Effect

They tell you in rehab that your addiction will have lasting effects on everyone you love. You believe them, but you also feel so dedicated to changing your behaviors you can't help but hope your loved ones will see the change in you and forgive.

Sometimes that happens. Sometimes it doesn't.

They tell you that in an effort to "clean up your side of the street" you must own your shit and apologize for whatever part of the mess is yours. They also tell you that it's not your job (as the recovering addict) to help clean up the other person's side of the street. Again, you understand what that means, but sometimes you can't help but try to take on your loved one's problems out of the guilt and shame you feel.

When they tell you not to do that, believe them. You have enough shit on your side of the street, for heaven's sake don't go looking for more. I know from experience you end up making a bigger mess of things.

After I got clean I apologized to those I hurt the most: my parents, my sister, and her husband. I was living with my sister and her family when my addiction reached its boiling point. They forgave me. In fact, at first I didn't lose anyone I loved because of my problem. I was relieved. But just as recovery is a process, so is forgiveness.

Two months after I got clean, it became apparent my sister was resentful, bitter, and angry towards me. I can't blame her - I did terrible things under her roof. But her unwillingness to let things go and forgive (which she has the right to do), drove her to seek her pound of flesh from me. As a result I have lost my relationship with her.

I wish I could say it ended there, but sadly her bitterness has spilled over. She is now aiming her anger towards our mother and has nearly destroyed that relationship too. While I know I can't try to sweep her side of the street, I still feel guilty and shameful that the ripples my addiction caused are reaching my parents' relationship with my sister. My parents, especially my mom, are paying a price for my sins. They could very well pay a higher price than me considering they may not get to see their grandchildren if my sister chooses to sever ties with our parents.

They don't deserve that. They have stood by me, supported me, cheered me on, believed in me, and most shockingly they have begun to trust me again.

It's true what they say about the lasting effects addiction has on the loved ones. That is one of the most painful parts of my recovery right now: seeing with fresh eyes the damage, destruction, and chaos I caused.

I am owning my shit, each and every disgusting turd. But it kills me to watch the ones I love the most have to own it too.

Living Amends

I donated blood today. I've never done that before. Not that I hadn't tried...I was always rejected for one of the following reasons: I was underweight (god, how I wish I still had that problem), I'd recently taken antibiotics, or I'd had something pierced in the previous 12 months.

After that, any time I could've given blood, I had too much stuff in my system. Like opiates.

Giving blood today was one of my ways to make a living amend.  The past 10 months I've been rather busy taking anything and everything I can from basically anyone. Moving past that time in my life is taking time, but today - on a whim - I decided to give back.

I wanted to give a part of myself to someone I didn't know. For the first time in awhile, I've actually been healthy enough for someone to want a part of me.  It was exciting. I can't believe I was so elated over getting harpooned in the arm and drained of about a 10th of my blood.

I hope my time of only taking is over. This small thing - insignificant to everyone but me - is one of my milestones. A beautiful, bloody (okay not really, but it sounds cool) milestone.

Oh, and today is 65 days.

I want to go back

I found a bunch of old photos last weekend. Pictures of my sister and I when we were kids, pictures of me as a teenager, pictures of our family from years and years ago. Looking at those photos, I so desperately want to go back. I want to go back to those days as a carefree kid. I want to go back to my teenage years and be nicer to my parents.

I want to go back to August 2nd, 1999, the day before a good friend of mine was killed in a car accident, just to tell her how much she meant to me.

I would go back  to when we lived in Hawaii when I was eight year old just to experience my family the way it used to be. The way I used to be. Free. Content. Happy.

I would go  back to my years as a teenager and make better choices. I would cherish my time as a kid, I would be more grateful to my parents who sacrificed so much to give my sister and I a good life.

I just want to go back to being that gawky, skinny kid I used to be and for just one day be her again. Back when life was simple. Back when I didn't have to worry about things like bills and working at a job I hate.

I don't want to be me. I don't want to be here. Some days it takes all that's in me to get out of bed. Some days I don't even  want to live. I feel like I'm living a lie. I'm going through the motions...for what?

I want to go back.

21 Things I've Learned In The Past 3 Weeks.

1. I often take things way too personally.

2. My tolerance (read: gag-factor) for all things disgusting (read: cat vomit, poopy diapers) is decreasing the older I get.

3. If/when I have children, said tolerance level will make for an interesting year. Or twelve.

4. Infidelity is never justified. It's just not. If you don't like it, leave. If you feel obligated to stay, then shut up and make it work.

6. I get bored quickly when shopping for furniture.

7. Shopping with my mom is never a dull experience.

8. Item 6 + item 7 = 4 fantabulous hours with mom at Nebraska Furniture Mart.

9. I heart my new couch. And my awesome leather rug. (Will try to get a picture. It's so cool.)

10. Having a child get super-excited at your arrival, run, and leap into your arms is one of the best feelings ever. And a true hug from said child includes his legs wrapped around you middle.

11. I think we should hug like that more often. But, you know, in a non-sexual way.

12. Dentists aren't always scary. Especially when they prescribe ativan and percocet.

13. I really hate grocery shopping.

14. Without self-tanner, my skin would forever be the color of peeled chicken. (What can I say, I'm Scot-Irish.)

15. Ice cream makes everything better.

16. I do not like clutter.

17. But somehow I'm okay with a messy bathroom.

18. I love living alone. In fact, I like it so much I worry if I'll be okay with "sharing" things like the closet and the bed if I ever get married.

19. I am always amazed at the confidence my friends have in me. They often have more confidence in my abilities than I do. I'm not sure that's the way it should be.

20. Sometimes people are wrong. That's ok. Rumor has it I've been wrong a time or two. Though this rumor has yet to be confirmed.

21. When it's 108 degrees and 99% humidity, the air is so thick it must be chewed before inhaling.

Unconditional

We were having dinner. He had come to the city to help me hang some pictures and set braces for curtain rods. I had promised dinner and we needed to pick up some hooks. Panera was conveniently on the way.

He told me he wanted nothing more than for me to be happy. I quickly looked down at my soup to hide the quick tears that filled my eyes.

How do explain to your father you don't feel like you deserve happiness?

I blinked away tears and looked him in the eyes. "Nothing would bring me more joy than to see you be happy," he said.

" I know, Dad." Happiness is about a million miles away. I'll settle for "not miserable".

"You know your mother and I love you. You are such a  blessing to us. You've made us so proud."

"I know. I love you guys too." It was all I could to not cry into my soup in the middle of the restaurant.

"We just want to see you happy."

"Me too, Dad."

I don't understand how I ended up with my parents. They are wonderful people. One of the few bright spots in my life. I don't deserve them or their unconditional love. I don't understand why they love me so much or do so much for me.

A text from my father later that night said "Enjoyed the evening. I always enjoy spending time with you."

Me too, Dad. I always feel better when I spend time with you.

Always.

Yeah, Me Too...

Have you ever had something troubling you and you wanted to talk about it with someone, but you really wanted them to ask? Which means you basically expect that person to have mind-reading super powers because how the crap are they supposed to know when you've got something on your mind.

Ever started crying and can't for the life of you pin point the reason why?

Do you wonder if other people put up with you and suffer your company simply because they're too nice to tell you to go away?

Do you sometimes wonder if certain people would still be your friend even if you weren't useful or interesting to them anymore?

Have you ever claimed you're not bothered by what others say about you, but secretly you ARE bothered?

Have you ever felt something shift in a relationship and suddenly everything's different? You know it's different and yet you can't figure out why it happened or how to fix it. Have you ever been too afraid to mention it to the other person?

Have you ever scoffed at or made fun of the very thing you secretly want the most? Or been ashamed to admit that thing you so desperately want is the one thing you can't seem to have?

Have you ever wanted to slap someone for complaining about their life when what they have is the very thing you desperately want for yourself?

Have you ever felt ashamed for not being content with what you have? (see above.)

Have you ever been disgusted with another person's actions, only to realize you've done that very same thing?

Have you ever come to a place where you just want to give up? As if everything you do and say is wrong?

Have you ever felt invisible?

Have you ever been so desperate for a change or to feel alive that you've done something incredibly stupid and/or dangerous?

...

You Are On Our Side

The orphan clings to Your hand singing the song of how he was found.
And the widow rejoices for her oppressor is silenced now.


You sit at the table with the wounded and the poor
You laugh and share stories with the thief and the whore.
And where You could just be silent and leave us here to die
Still You sent Your Son for us
You are on our side.


The runaway falls at your feet; You are what he has searched for.
The rich man is broken when he stands beneath a sky full of stars.


You sit at the table with the wounded and the poor
You laugh and share stories with the thief and the whore.
And where You could just be silent and leave us here to die
Still You sent Your Son for us
You are on our side.

This song, You Are On Our Side, by Bethany Dillon is based on the following scripture:

Psalm 147:2-3 (The Message)

GOD's the one who rebuilds Jerusalem,
who regathers Israel's scattered exiles.
He heals the heartbroken
and bandages their wounds.
He counts the stars
and assigns each a name.
Our Lord is great, with limitless strength;
we'll never comprehend what he knows and does.
GOD puts the fallen on their feet again
and pushes the wicked into the ditch.


Rejoice! For our Savior is born!   
I hope you and yours have had a wonderful Christmas holiday.
-Heather Leigh

Risk Vs. Outcome

Sometimes it is the element of risk that makes the experience meaningful.

That statement is so true. It speaks to the significance of risk, the thrill of the gamble, that moment of suspense where you’re waiting to see what’s going to happen.

However, I wonder how many people would still agree with that statement if the gamble they took, so to speak, ended badly for them. I’ll be honest, when things don’t go my way, I have feelings of regret and disappointment. Sometimes those feelings are combined with rejection, be it perceived or real.

Is the risk still meaningful even if the result is failure?

I can think of one time (in the not so recent past) in which the risk made the experience meaningful, even though things ended badly for me. The temporary shock of rejection quickly gave way to strong revelations about the kind of person I was. Sure it was painful, but I learned important lessons. Like how I should always trust my instincts. That blood really is thicker than water. And how I should (and will) never apologize for who I am.

I learned that just because one person doesn’t like who I am, it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m the bad guy.

But let’s be honest: Risk without gain is kinda crappy. Risk that ends in failure IS crappy, even when you factor in valuable lessons learned, if any.

It leads me to this question:
Is it so bad to want to know the outcome before I make the investment and/or take the risk?

Would the investment mean the same thing if I knew, going into it, that it was a sure thing?

I don’t know.

I can tell you the suspense, the not knowing, the hanging around in limbo-land, sucks. It’s awful. You can’t really do anything, so you think. And think some more. And after that, guess what? You think a little bit more. There’s a term my friend and I use to describe this kind of thinking whilst dwelling in limbo-land. We call it mind-fuck.

Harsh. Certainly crass. But very, very true.

As your brain makes its feeble attempts to run through every possibility, every permutation, your emotions and desires unavoidably steer your mind to dwell on the outcome you wish for the most.

Thus begins the mind-fuck cycle.

Wait. Think. Hope. Think. Beg. Think. Promise. Think. Threaten. Think.

None of which has any effect on the outcome because there’s nothing you can actually do.

The funny thing is, if I knew the outcome before I made the investment (or took the risk), hypothetically the hanging-in-suspense part would disappear. It would simply be an inconvenient waiting period before achieving the known outcome.

That brings me back to the question I had earlier: without the suspense, without the risk, without some personal effort, would I still value the outcome? Or is it the blood, sweat, and tears? Is the journey what it’s really about?

I don’t know.

Things I May or May Not Have Said

“With your looks, your personality should be beaming.”

“I’m ready for my blankie and my baba.”

“Rolling your eyes is NOT an acceptable form of arguing.”

“I hope someone gets eaten by a shark soon.”

"The department of homeland security is making a mockery of the starfleet alert system!"

“My desire to take advantage of this situation is overwhelming.”

“This feels like a test.”

“I miss my pants.”

“Just do your thing. You know, skank it up a bit.”

“Keep your standards highs and your expectations low.”

“I am immune to charm. At least, that’s the official party line.”

"Here in Canada we have a special program to deal with the homeless. It's called 'winter.'"

"We have enough youth. What we need is a fountain of smart."

"I used to feel bad about pirating music, then I watched MTV's Cribs."

"I just need to hit someone."

"Man, you just pushed the geek meter right off the scale with the combined MS bash and LOTR reference."

"I want them to commit seppuki when they lose on Iron Chef."

"You know you're a geek when you run your webcam software to see what you look like instead of going to the bathroom mirror."

"They are my family and I love them. That's why I can't part with them for less than $20."

"Clearly FFX-2 is not a game I'll be able to play with my pants on."

"A alphabetically be in organized sentence should words."

"Intelligence is alcohol soluble."

"Are you sure you like boys?"

"You look a lot different with your clothes on."

"Name six animals which live specifically in the Arctic."
"Two polar bears and three four seals."

"I use AOL because it's free."
"So is gum stuck to chairs."

"There are two theories when it comes to arguing with women. Neither one works."

While discussing Smokey the Bear commercials:
"If an anthromorphic bear in a pair of jeans and one of those ranger hats comes up and tells me not to set stuff on fire, I probably already did".

"Silence is golden. Duct tape is silver."

"I don't like you. And if I met your mom I probably wouldn't like her either."

"When you pull the pin from Mr. Grenade, he is no longer your friend."

"I love my new computer. More than my girlfriend."

Morally Questionable Muffins

I was at the grocery store with my Mom this afternoon. She was looking at packages of freshly baked muffins in packages of four. She was fussing because they didn't have any packages with assorted flavors. Mom looked at me and asked, "Where are the loose muffins?"

I paused. It was just too easy. I replied, "Why would you want slutty muffins?"

Mom rolled her eyes, muttered something about how I was turning into my father, and walked off with a package of muffins.