As I write this, I'm at my cousins' house in Eagle Rock, attending a party for all the birthdays among various family and friends for the month of May. Everyone is drinking except Mom, Dad, and me.
Even my brother and sister Laura have been splitting 11-ounce bottles of Smirnoff Ice. Laura is starting to feel the effects of the Smirnoff; she and Joe are starting to have those minor semantic arguments of the mildly intoxicated. Namely, they are mildly arguing over how much they've had to drink.
As we speak, a group of my cousins are partaking in a beer-enhanced game of Uno.
Frankly, I'd rather walk the two-and-a-half mile round trip to the Tommy's down on Colorado Boulevard for a Diet Pepsi than work the six feet to my left to grab a beer. I just find drinking alcohol too distasteful a habit.
The one and only time I've tasted alcohol was for Laura's twenty-first birthday in 2004. We went to the Macaroni Grill and Laura decided she wanted to try some wine. Being only nineteen at the time, I asked if I could sample some of it as well. The wine Laura selected had citrus essence in it, so when I tried it, it tasted like rotten orange peels. It is and was the most vile thing I have ever tasted. I have not tried any alcohol at all since that time, and that was ten years ago now.
It's telling that the only time I've ever been tempted to drink was right before I got saved. I was at a very low point and in absolute despair. I wanted to just stop feeling so terrible, and for the only time in my life, I was tempted to drink. I thank God that He stopped me from yielding to that temptation. Too many of our relatives struggled with drinking and I just don't want to be a part of that.
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