What’s new? I’m really, really, really busy at work. But, as this is my day to lift weights and prance atop the elliptical for 30 minutes, you know what I’m going to do right now?

Go to the gym, that’s what.

I came to the realization long ago that my head stays as sober as my body stays fit. May not be true for everyone, but it is only too true for me. Going to the gym on busy days such as this one is just another of the lengths I must go to to stay sober.

Time to stop blogging and start sweating!

You know, weekends are easy for me. I hang out at home with Charlie, together we give the house its weekly cleaning, the two of us socialize a little with friends or do some relaxed shopping or maybe have a Sunday lunch date, I do my own writing and play with the cats. If there’s any stress involved, it comes only from my own propensity to manufacture it. And I’ve been sober long enough to recognize manufactured stress for what it is and give it the boot.

The problem with weekends is that they end. Now I love my job–really. I would almost pay to do the broadcast journalism I have the luxury of getting paid to do. But my job’s stresses are real, and they hit me the minute I hit the office. I have to work to keep my head from become dysfunctionally buzzy–and any person in recovery knows exactly what I mean by that!

Now this anti-buzzy-head work is, to me, different from any other kind of work I do. All the rest of my work requires effort–I have to do things to get it done. Anti-buzzy-head work simply requires me to relax in Alice’s company (Alice being the affectionate name of my partner in life, God). My partnership with Alice–formed over years of sobriety–allows me to get through days in functional emotional ways that I never could manage on my own. And keeping an un-buzzy head in the face of journalism’s deadlines is certainly one of those functional emotional ways.

Sobriety, in my opinion, rocks!

. . .not in the program, but a fellow writer. We had lunch, talked about writing and life, and I felt as comfortable in her company as I do in my own (which is, in itself, a gift of sobriety). One of the great wonders of sobriety to me is that I’m able to let myself simply like someone, without either making the relationship complicated or else worrying about what the other person might be thinking about me. In other words, I pretty much assume these days that if I like someone, the feeling is mutual.

My goodness, it feels good to be open to people without fear.

Yesterday was a beautiful day for both one big, important professional reason and many small, cozy personal reasons. The big, important reason was that I had an essay published on the “Lives” page of The New York Times Magazine about which I allowed myself to be flat-out thrilled. The small reasons were that Charlie and I celebrated by eating a big, unhealthy breakfast at a diner, having an orgy of football watching, and baking bread. Oh, and my daughter called, and we had our usual lively weekly chat.

Here’s the deal for me about wonderful things that happen. When I was drinking and using I got high on them–I needed wonderful things going on constantly to keep me feeling that I was somebody. I suppose I was, in some ways, addicted to wonderful things as well to alcohol and pills. I had no ability to sustain good feelings while having simple, normal, regular, pleasant days. I only felt as good as everyone else’s opinion of me, which meant I was constantly having to figure out what wonderful thing I could do next so that other people would think I was worth the space I took up in this sweet, old world.

Today–sober for quite a few 24-hours–I love plain, old, normal, pleasant days, just for being plain, old, normal pleasant days. I suspect today will be one of those days. I plan to get some work done, go to the gym, look after my ailing cat, and eat some more of that good bread. I don’t expect anything spectacular to happen.

Of course, I’m still thrilled about being in The New York Times. It’s a thrill I expect to enjoy in retrospect for a long time, without feeling the slightest need to repeat it.

None. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Zero.

However, today it was not because I was avoiding it, but because other stories took priority. As a sober person, I have learned to prioritize, particularly when what I put first is more interesting.

You can’t hear tone of voice in posts, but hopefully you’ve realized that the above is delivered with my tongue firmly in my cheek. Sobriety has also made it so much easier to laugh at myself.

I came into work this morning determined to focus on a story I’ve been neglecting, because it involves hours of tape transcription, and this, to me–Ms. Flibbertigibbe–qualifies it as the current Big Yuck! Then the phone started ringing, someone dropped by, a couple more interesting story possibilities reared their enticing heads, and here I am at 5 p.m. with not much done on the Big Yuck.

So, what does this have to do with sobriety. Progress, not perfection, that’s what! At least I’m willing and able to recognize my own journalistic shortcomings, instead of fooling around with the kind of stupid excuses for them that used to fool no one except me.

Tomorrow, as Scarlett O’Hara put it so well, is another day. The Big Yuck isn’t going anywhere. I will post an update on my actual progress at making myself work on it tomorrow.

I’ve been passionately, emotionally involved with the yearly doings of the Washington Redskins (American football for those of you who ignore sports) since the 1950’s. Pop, you see, had only sisters and only daughters; and, as the younger of the latter, it became my thing to watch–and play–sports with him.

Eddie LeBaron, the Little General, led the team back then–mostly to nowhere. In truth, except for two bright epochs under George Allen in the ’70’s and Joe Gibbs first tenure (’81 through ‘92), the Redskins have not done very well. Some years, in fact, they’ve been terrible.

But my passionate hope, belief, and loyalty to this team-as well as my forgiveness of its screw-ups–has never wavered. What I felt for the Redskins was for years, I think, the closest I came to unconditional love. After all, loving a football team was a pretty safe thing to do. The most hurtful thing it could do to me was lose a game or blow a season. When I was drinking and using, however, loving people was a pretty fearsome thing, and so I’m not sure I ever loved them quite as unconditionally as I loved the Redskins.

Sobriety has changed me. The more solid, less fearful I become as a person, the less concerned I am about getting hurt. Loving someone else now feels like a gift in itself. As for fear, most of the time I know down to my toes that as long as I don’t drink or use and I keep working those Steps, I’m going to be just fine, and so I have nothing to be afraid of. As sober time passed, I also noticed that once I took fear out of my heart, love just moved on in and made itself at home.

So, life is richer and better and more interesting today, because I’m no longer afraid to let go and love others pretty much unconditionally. Others, that is, along with the Redskins. . .

I just got back from my niece’s wedding in California. As I live in Virginia, that means my brain is still somewhere over Kansas. But who cares, for yy heart, –wherever it is–is very happy.

Here’s the deal: When I got sober I got my family back. It took time, patience and plentiful amends. It took letting past grudges go and giving up worrying about who was to blame for anything. It took recognition on some profound level that while none of us are perfect, we all have done the best we can.

This was the moment for me at that wedding. We’re all on the dance floor when Sister Sledge launches into “We Are Family.” I raise my arms in concert with my daughter and my sister and my nieces, and we all sing and dance together.

I’ve spent this morning in a frenzy of multi-tasking as it was both my first day back at work after winter holidays and my last day at work before I fly to California for a family wedding. So, I found myself doing such things as simultaneously reserving a seat on the Super Shuttle and posting an essay to my station’s automation system.

I was off for ten whole days and it was wonderful. I wrote, yakked with my family, played with my cats, worked out at a leisurely pace, watched a lot of football (go Redskins!), read books for pleasure, and–most wonderful of all–occasionally did nothing. Life was soooooooo peaceful and laid-back.

That ended, of course, at nine this morning. And even though the trip to California is technically a vacation, the pace of the next few days will be anything but laid-back. But you know what I realize and wanted to share? Thanks to sobriety and years of working the Twelve Steps, I may lose the laid-back reality, but I won’t lose the laid-back feeling that comes with it–or at least I won’t lose it all of the time. Add if I do lose it in the pressure of deadlines, I’ll know how to get it back

To me, one of the greatest gifts of sobriety is being able to deal with the frenzy of life without having it morph into the frenzy of soul.

Happy, peaceful, New Year, my friends.