the 11:11 club

We meet at The Landlord's casita on Tuesday nights after dinner at the homeless shelter. Well, I have dinner there; the others all volunteer at the shelter: The Landlord, The Yoga Teacher, The Italian, The New Tenant. Other people stop by The Landlord's on Tuesday nights like The Dancer (who is now in Mexico for the winter) but a lot of times it's just me and the three guys, my three amigos.

When the Tuesday night gathering first started up again after a brief hiatus we wound things up around 9:00 or 9:30. Then one night we glanced at the clock on the microwave and it was 11:11. "Do you guys know the significance of 11:11?" I asked. When no one did I said, "I'll often glance at a digital clock, like on my computer, and it'll be 11:11. It's freaky the way that happens. Those are winks from our angels letting us know they're around." This led us to a talk on numerology and we all did our birth numbers. (I really should be saving our notes from those nights, like the flow chart I did in an effort to track everyone's marriages--or near-marriages.)

Now we don't end the Tuesday night gatherings until after 11:11. Last week, at 10:26, The Yoga Teacher made a move to go home but then changed his mind, figuring he could last another 45 minutes.

Needless-to-say, most of us are pretty hung over the next day from drinking Tequila all evening because once we make it to 11:11 we're usually good for another hour or so. But something strange has happened to me as a result of those Tuesday nights: I've given up my daily adult beverage.

I don't think it's a stretch to say that every single day for the past ten years I have had a cocktail or a beer or a glass of wine and I think that's okay. But lately if I opened a bottle of wine at night, I would drink the whole thing. Or if I went to hear music on Saturdays I would drink three gin and tonics and get schnockered. I didn't feel comfortable about that level of drinking so I just stopped. And it's been surprisingly easy. I mean, I couldn't fathom spending a whole night in my trailer, bored to tears, without a cocktail. Now I drink tea or snack on a few almonds. And here's another thing...when I met The Poet for happy hour on Friday night I had one shot of Maker's Mark with a little glass of beer as a back. And that is all I drank the whole night. It was great. The next day I could remember most of our conversation, I wasn't hung over, and I had spent only $6.

So, pay attention to your clocks. You never know what kind of messages you may be receiving from the 11:11 guardians.