My first AA meeting and struggle to say “My name is…”
The liquor store owner was certainly not fooled by my stories. Each day I wrestle with fabricated excuses as to why a nicely dressed, middle class, soccer-mom-type was buying two bottles of cheap, potent whiskey. “I’m having a party tonight,” I lied, “and we’re playing Whiskey Pong.” “I had lost a husband and a home … Read More