News fast

       Give yourself a gift: Take a day off from reading or listening to the news. No MSN, NBC, or CNN. No Public Radio, no local headlines, not so much as a whisper of who is campaigning for what office or why the economy is destined to tank. Let your brain dedicate itself to gentler pursuits. Read old Calvin and Hobbes comics, watch a '40's screwball comedy. Or tilt your head back, close your eyes, and don't think about anything at all.
        I have no idea whether the world is going to hell in a handbasket or whether it's business as usual on the global scale. I do know that there has always been poverty, bipartisan rancor, disease, and horrifying crimes committed by soulless individuals. Lately it all feels bigger, louder, and even more irreparable than in eras past. But is that truly the case, or does it only feel that way because of our 24-hour, every single second, multimedia access to it all?
         In my recovery program participants are encouraged to accept the things we cannot change. I cannot accept the rich getting richer on the backs of their workers. I cannot accept the unashamedly bigoted bleatings of racists and homophobes. I cannot accept human beings slaughtering other human beings in the name of... anything. I can accept that there is little I can do to change these unacceptable goings on. 
          I can vote. I can speak out for what I believe in. I can pray. I can try to make my own little corner of this life a warm one for all who cross my path.
          And once in awhile, for the sake of my sanity and peace of mind, I can turn the world off. There will be new headlines tomorrow, some solemn (Ebola), some silly (Kim Kardashian's sisters are more popular than she is!). It's not that I don't care about what's happening in my city, state, country, or world. It's that sometimes caring costs me more than I can afford to give.
           Join me, won't you, in a one-day news fast. We'll play video games, or go for a walk along the lakeshore. We'll give a dog a belly rub, or make silly noises for a toddler and giggle along with him. We'll eat cookies, blow bubbles, sing along with an old song on the radio. We'll appreciate the quiet in our neck of the woods. The world's teeming chaos will be there tomorrow. But just for one day, we can pretend it isn't there at all.
 

Weather you like it or not.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the snow I cannot change, the courage to shovel the snow I can, and the wisdom to not pout about it.
Whenever I complain about winter (which is frequently), someone will invariably comment on the irony of a warm weather lover such as myself living in the center of the snow belt. Yes, ha ha, I will reply, it sure is ironic.
It's not really ironic, it's just life, that thing I've spent 20-some years learning how to live on its own terms. I became an alcoholic because I wanted my life (read: me) to be different and had no idea how to accomplish that.
I think it's safe to say I've made progress. I accept responsibility for my own actions, I accept that things won't always go my way, I accept that people aren't always going to behave the way I think they should, even when I know exactly how they should think, act and speak. That goes for everyone from the president on down to my kids. And my pets.
And the weather? The icy knife wind, the stinging blasts of snow crystals, the slick roads and sidewalks?
I'm working on it, ok?