“Wait, wait, wait, Botsford. You
are from Wisconsin. That is basically your ambrosia. Your nectar of the gods,”
you gasp, panicky, grasping for something real to hold onto--probably a rosary, the couch upon which you’re sitting, and/or a cold brew of your own.
Yes, I understand the irony. I
think it is similar to when I told my folks I was a vegetarian. “But, but,
Katie, what will I cook for you when you come home?” Cold fear crossed my mother’s
eyes. Pretty sure my parents were more accepting when I told them I like to
date the womyns than when I chose not to eat meat. Regardless, I digress.
I am choosing to do this for
several reasons. I don’t really want to drink during Ultimate season. My body is
my temple, blah blah blah. In addition, I cannot exercise for an extended period of time due
to an injury, so I am trying to cut out alcohol and other foods that don’t
really serve a purpose to keep my sweet bod in beach condition. Just kidding on that
last part. But, I am trying to be healthier, and focus on paltry things like self-control.
ANYWAY, I would prefer not to
publically discuss why I am no longer drinking right now, but that I am not drinking. I
also wish to tell you a story about my last drink.
Once upon a time, there lived a
fiery lass from a sleepy hamlet in the northern reaches of an emerald island.
She thrived on adventure. Always climbing or running or moving forward towards
bigger and better places. Her gallivanting nature brought her to the land of
morning calm. She spent some time in the bustling metropolis then ventured
south towards the ocean front. She traipsed about the beach chasing and catching
flying saucers. She, however, had a secret magic. She made everyone around her a
faster runner, a confident catcher. She focused her energy into changing those
around her into stars.
People from near and far gathered
in hopes of training with her. There was one such girl—raw and new—who was
especially eager. Shy, yet anxious to please, she lurked around the lass in
hopes of learning by observation. Soon, the two women became acquainted; then their acquaintance turned to friendship. The lass’s magic pulsed through their
friendship making the girl into a better human. And, the girl listened,
learned, and taught as well. Together, they journeyed towards better ways of
living, of existing in their world.
After some time, the lass felt a
tugging, a yearning to keep her feet moving. Constantly moving forward.
Constantly growing in herself. She chose to leave the morning calm in search of
passion and vigor. At a last, last, last going away dinner, the women shared a
special soup, mandu, and mediocre beer—their favorite meal.
When the lass departed for her
train, the girl didn’t cry. Not because she wasn’t sad. But, because she knew
that the lass’s magic will continue to course through their friendship, and
someday their adventures will again be in the same place at the same time.
The end.
So, I guess what I’m trying to
say is that my last gamjatang with W seemed a fitting time to take a break from
alcohol. She taught me to stop bettering myself for others, and instead try
bettering myself for me. She walked with me on some pretty wobbly steps towards
being a healthier human, and now it is my turn to also grow in myself under my own
volition.
Thank you, dear friend. I will
see you soon.
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