An Essay

I am sorry for the long post, but this is important stuff. This is an essay I wrote recently for my English 121 class. I would like to share it with you and I would like you to share it with someone who may need it. (Not those in English 121 please...) An English 121 Essay One can find them lying slumped against the wall of a building dressed in disheveled clothing and reeking of booze, looking far older than their 65 years of age would suggest. They did not start that way; many were professionals, some were fathers and others mothers. Unfortunately for them, they realized too late that they were part of the 14 million Americans who are considered alcoholics. Luckily though, they are alive; often alcoholics die young like my father who succumbed to the disease at the age of 46. Of course they too will eventually die due to complications from their illness after having lost everything they hold dear for their friend in the bottle. So why didn’t they stop? Why could they not come to grips with their drinking problem? Descent into alcoholism worsens exponentially. That is to say, they could tolerate the effects of the disease for a long time and during that time it was easy to deny they had a problem. Then alcohol began to assert its control in greater and greater measure. They lost their jobs. They began to lose friends. They tried to hit the brakes, but it was too late; they lost their wives and hit rock bottom. If only they had sought the help of a professional substance abuse counselor when they first thought they might have a drinking problem, perhaps they could have learned to live with alcoholism as I have. If sought early enough, professional counselors can help those with a drinking problem by diagnosing their problem, convincing them that they have a problem and recommending an appropriate treatment program to start them on the road to recovery. The first way in which professional counselors help those with a drinking problem is to help them recognize the warning signs of alcohol dependence. I began to suspect that I might have a problem when my drinking began to interfere with my personal relationships. It seemed that I was always arguing with my wife, usually about my drinking. I mentioned to my family practitioner that I thought I might have a drinking problem and given my family history, he recommended that I seek a professional’s opinion. On his recommendation I set an appointment with the counselors from a local aubstance abuse center. First, we discussed the frequency of my drinking and the amounts of alcohol I consumed at a sitting. At my worst I was drinking six to eight alcoholic beverages five to six times a week, a sure sign I had a problem. Next, we discussed other indicators of alcoholism. Had I missed time from school or work because of alcohol? Would I skip meals to prevent the food from ruining my buzz? Was alcohol causing problems in my personal life? Did I wake up the next morning and need an eye-opener to get me going? Had I ever been angry that someone has mentioned my drinking to me? Did I have feelings of remorse or guilt associated with my drinking? Did I have more than one or two black outs, being unable to remember what happened the night before, in the past year? Did I drink alone? Despite my best efforts to evade the questions, I had to answer yes to most of them. Because I answered yes to two or more of those questions, combined with the amount of alcohol I consumed, I was officially diagnosed a problem drinker. The second way in which professional counselors help those with a drinking problem is by convincing them that they do, in fact, have a drinking problem. It seems that alcoholics are very good at denial. Despite all of the signs, we believe that we are capable of stopping any time and that any misfortunes are more likely due to bad luck than anything else. They pointed out the fact that I had probably made many promises to myself to cut back drinking, but had been unable to keep them. I had, and I couldn’t. I would slow down my drinking for a week or so, but it was not long before I was back to my regular drinking pattern. They mentioned I had probably even promised myself that I would quit. I had. Yet every time, I came up with an excuse as to why that day was not a good day to stop, telling myself I could quit anytime I wanted, so why not start another day. They pointed out that I likely had difficulty knowing when I had had too much to drink or had difficulty stopping after just a few drinks. That was true too. I had made many promises to myself to have just a couple of drinks, only to find myself three hours later slurring my words, unable to walk a straight line. They pointed out that more than a few blackouts are a huge red flag for alcoholism. I had had my fair share of mornings waking up in fear, not remembering if I had said or done something I would regret or not knowing how I even got home. They said I probably made excuses to drink or was uncomfortable in social situations where alcohol was unavailable. True, I looked for any reason I could to have a drink and when I knew that alcohol would be unavailable at a social gathering, I would make sure that I was prepared by either drinking beforehand or sneaking some in. The professional counselors pointed out that the guilt and remorse I felt was directly connected to those unkept promises, fears and needs. True, and with that knowledge I was able to accept the fact that I had drinking problem The third way in which professional counselors help those with a drinking problem is by recommending an appropriate treatment program to start them on the road to recovery. Every problem drinker that enters treatment will be at different stages in their progression down the slope to rock bottom. Some will be gravely ill and require 24 hour supervision and special drugs to deal with their withdrawal symptoms. Others will be near rock bottom having tried to quit several times. They will require lengthy inpatient services that limit their access to public spaces where alcohol is readily available. Others are young, their descents proceeding so rapidly that the state or those who care for them are forced to intervene. They will often need special attention due to child abuse or other mental disorders. Many patients are in trouble with the law for DUIs or other drinking violations and are forced to attend substance abuse programs as part of their sentence. These problem drinkers are typically still in denial and attend programs only to fulfill their mandated sentence of a certain number of substance abuse classes. Because I sought treatment on my own terms and given the progression of my disease, I was placed in an outpatient program. I attended sessions three times a week for a month and a half. It was the best $3,500 I have ever spent. Looking back after nine years of sobriety, it is easy for me to say that I made the right decision, but at the time, I was very afraid about how life could continue without alcohol. I could not have imagined it would be so much better not having alcohol pulling the strings. Fortunately, I sought the help of a professional substance abuse counselor early on who was able to recognize the warning signs for alcohol dependence, made me realize that I had a drinking problem and could recommend an appropriate substance abuse program. I would strongly urge those who think they may have a drinking problem to seek the guidance of a professional substance abuse counselor. Otherwise, I may one day pass them sleeping on a park bench, covered in newspaper for warmth, clutching their only friend: that bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag.

On the Road to Moab

Here is a picture taken from the road to Moab. Picture yourself at 9,000 feet coming down a steep 6-7% grade heading into this... Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Now add in enough snow to make the road treacherous with slush, cars off the side of the road and big trucks whizzing past. Seems like a pretty bad drive, right? Nah, as any parent knows it can get worse, much worse... Sure looks happy in this picture,eh? Just imagine Our Youngest sitting next to 77 year old Pappa... Puking! With Grandma from the back seat and Mom from the front desperately trying to help contain the mess. What a riot... I looked at my beautiful Wife and said I'm not stopping, she said I know. Won't soon forget this trip... This is the picture I took as soon as we could pull off so I could relieve the pressure on my white knuckles while Mom and Grandma cleaned up poor Dasher. Fresh Fallen snow. Beautiful! ************************************************************************ posted by Cal: While hubby did a splendid job of conveying the stressful first half of our trip to Moab, he failed to tell the whole story..... Nah, Just blocking from memory... ; ) Hubby took the first possible, safe exit he could. Unfortunately, there happened to be NO SERVICES at said stop- just a parking lot. Making the best of it that we could, we parked the van so AW was on the lee side and started to undress him and clean him up. Keep in mind that we were still at 9,000 feet, just beyond a snow storm on a windy afternoon- AW was miserable, he had just gotten sick and now he had to sit in his car seat naked, covered with goose bumps. I felt so bad doing that to him, but had no choice at that point. We finished getting him dressed, gave him some anti-nausea medicine and set off again. This time, I was next to AW. And I tend to get car sick, too. Especially in the back seat. And with the smell of vomit in the car, I was a nice shade of green to begin with. AW and I were twins. How sweet. Then it happened again. AW's belly refused the anti-nausea med I gave him. That worked well now, didn't it? Now, you have to know that basin duty is near impossible with him. All you have to do is put a hand on that bucket and he starts yelling "No bucket! No bucket!" while thrashing and pushing the bucket away. So here's the picture: AW is puking, I'm trying, in vain, to hold the basin under his chin with one hand and grabbing his hands with the other. All while looking away and gagging. And Grandma is on the edge of her seat in the way back, her arms wrapped around AW's seat comforting and helping with the basin. It was quite a scene. And of course, every time AW made the slightest off sounds, Grandma and I would both flinch and reach for the bucket, adrenaline pumping fast, ready for the next episode. Which came from an unexpected source: HL. Great. Now both kids are car sick and all four adults are stressed and, well, not in the best of spirits. Got the kids cleaned up and found a store at which we could procure some dramamine. Yes, they did have dramamine, all sorts of choices in fact. Except for chewable- the one option we needed. We bought a box anyway and decided to at least try. No go. The pills were absolutely disgusting and could not be masked or hidden- the boys were on to us. We finally found some chewable dramamine at a gas station and that's where the trip turned uneventful, except for the stress of anticipation, that is. It took us nearly eleven hours(for a seven hour trip), countless grocery bags, and a bit of cussing, but we made it. Finally. And I learned that dramamine is my new best friend.

My name is...

Trying to get HL's attention, I kept calling "H****!" "H*****!!" Still no response. Last try: "H*****!!!" And I hear, "Mom, my name is Luke. L - U - K - E, Luke. Call me that." Silly me, I should have known better than to call my son by his actual name. (If you read me regularly, you know that my sons like to pretend we all live Star Wars land. HL always plays Luke Skywalker.)

Posts

It's funny, as a blogger, I find that I often see/remember life as posts- kind of how, as a photographer, I see the world through the lens of a camera. I experience things and almost immediately my mind says "there's a post in that." The progression from there is usually questions of myself such as "What did you learn from this?" or "Why do you think that happened?" Sometimes, though, the thought in my head is as simple as "I really want to remember that." Since I've started blogging I find that, a majority of the time, I go through life with numerous posts all racing around in my head. If only I could find the time to actually create them... Here's my current list: 1. EM's birthday weekend 2. The "Trip From Hell" 3. Al's (B-I-L) significance in my life 4. HL's protection of his brother 5. My admiration of my sister's willingness to play 6. AW's new "tricks" 7. HL's name 8. AW playing dead 9. My Hubby the freak (b/c he loves accounting so much) That's enough. You get the idea.

Was she speaking directly to me?

Her words, her sentiment in this post are so relevant to me and my life. I wonder, was she speaking directly to me? There is such solace in reading other's people blogs and learning that there are so many others who struggle with the same internal issues you do. I love this quote by Theodore Rubin she shares with us: "I must learn to love the fool in me—the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool." And it's even more comforting to learn that one can grow to accept their inner fool and need only a reminder: "This is to remind myself of who I am when operating with all the world. To reiterate that I should continue to open up and experience, to trust and to love, without need or expectation of return (or even understanding)." Thank you, Yummy Teece, for sharing and inspiring!

Moab, #1

As we were leaving Moab, we took a little side trip into the Arches National Park. The only one in the van that had been there before was Grandma. A little ways in, HL started telling us how he had been there before and this huge rock formation we were driving by is called the Great Wall. His story was entertaining, informative and full of detail (as is usually the case with him), but just a story nonethelss. Or so we thought, until Hubby informed us that HL was indeed describing the rock formation named "The Great Wall". Gave us all goosebumps....

Did I mention that I like the exercising? Notice the pleasant shape of the thigh, and those slender legs, well defined arms and the way the pendant highlights her alabaster complexion. And... despite her denial, her cleavage is quite pleasing. Because of her effort, even after two kids, my wife is shapely. I really appreciate her beauty and all the effort that goes into it. What a lucky man I am.

Gifts

This morning, Hubby asked me if there was anything I wanted for an anniversary present. I wasn't sure at first. And after pondering the question, I have discovered that the things I wish for aren't even things, per se. Here's what I came up with: 1. A clean house (has anyone created a self-cleaning model yet?) 2. A romantic weekend getaway, just me and Hubby, in the mountains (it's been over 5 years- far too long!) 3. Tune-ups for our bikes so we can take rides together (especially now that HL can officially ride his bike!) 4. To take a class with Hubby, something that interests us both (such as woodworking, martial arts or photography) 5. More free time with my family I'm sure there's more, but you get the idea. I'm discovering that I'm at a point in my life where objects are losing their importance. I would much rather learn or experience than have, right now. And I'm finding that it feels pretty good to be free of wanting things....

Happy 9th Anniversary, Babe

Dear Hubby, I love you.... ....because with you I feel safe ....because your patience is (outwardly) endless ....because you stepped between me and Tim so many years ago ....because you have the strength to be a non-practicing alcoholic ....because I feel truly listened to when I share with you ....because my children adore you ....because you're a great hugger (and your kisses? Even better!) ....because the corners of your mouth point down when you smile ....because you whistle (I would be lost without it) ....because you have stayed by my side even though I am at times terribly difficult to be around ....because I can trust you wholeheartedly ....because you understand me ....because you're a good packer (I can trust you to pack for our family when I'm working before a trip) ....because you are a safe, conscientious driver ....because you cheer me up ....because without you to calm me, I would be a panic-stricken mess ....because... well, because you are my soul mate, my everything. Happy Anniversary Honey!!

Non-Practicing

My beautiful Wife asked me the other day why I always say non-practicing alcoholic instead of recovering alcoholic. To me the answer was easy, since I will never recover from being an alcoholic, there is nothing to recover from. I can either choose to abstain from drinking or practice the art of alcoholism. From the Alcoholics Anonymous website alcoholism FAQ: The mere fact of abstaining from alcohol for months or even years has never qualified an alcoholic to drink "normally" or socially. Once the individual has crossed the borderline from heavy drinking to irresponsible alcoholic drinking, there seems to be no retreat. Few alcoholics deliberately try to drink themselves into trouble, but trouble seems to be the inevitable consequence of an alcoholic's drinking. After quitting for a period, the alcoholic may feel it is safe to try a few beers or a few glasses of light wine. This can mislead the person into drinking only with meals. But it is not too long before the alcoholic is back in the old pattern of too-heavy drinking - in spite of all efforts to set limits for only moderate, social drinking. The answer, based on A.A. experience, is that if you are an alcoholic, you will never be able to control your drinking for any length of time. That leaves two paths open: to let your drinking become worse and worse with all the damaging results that follow, or to quit completely and to develop a new pattern of sober, constructive living. I know this to be true. I had a personal example that I rue to this day. I had stopped smoking for six months and was feeling pretty good about it. Then one day I passed by one lone cigarettee sitting on a table at work. The cigarettee was convenientlyy located by a nice clean ashtray and nestled up to a book of matches. It was perfect. Before I knew it I was firing it up and puffing away. I thought to myself, ah it's just one smoke it won't kill you. Well, the next day I had bought a pack of smokes and smoke to this day. So in fact, maybe that one smoke will kill me. (hopefullyy not, I hope to quit soon) That is better than what lies down the other road though. If I had picked up that conveniently placed beer on that hot day thinking, ah, it's just a beer it won't hurt, instead of that cigarette, I could be dead right now. I'd most certainly be without my Beautiful Wife and kids, living who knows where, doing who knows what practicing that vile art. If that one smoke helped teach me that I can never again down a cold one, then I don't begrudge it a thing. (well, maybe a little)

Exercising

Baby E and my Hottie wife from our recent excursion to Moab for his birthday. I like her exercising too. Makes her look even hotter than before. Keep up the good work. It's great for your energy ya know...

PC

We've lately been noticing that our eldest, HL, says perfectly innocuous things that could be perceived to be rather non-PC (Politically Correct). For instance, when he watches sports he refers to teams by the colors they wear. That's innocent enough. The problem is that he only uses the uniform color, ie "the white guys" or "the black guys". You get the point. To make matters worse, he chooses a team to cheer for and commences by calling them the "good guys" vs. the "bad guys". Just the other day, he was cheering for the team wearing white and exclaiming how the "white guys are the good guys and the black guys are the bad guys." Now you see the problem. We are working dilligently on getting him to say the "white helmet guys" or the "white jersey guys", but have not had much success yet. As if that wasn't bad enough, he watched a game with the Green Bay Packers with daddy and made up a team of his own to cheer for: The White Packers. Okay. No problem there. Except that when he says it, it comes out "White Peckers". Not good. Especially when he openly cheers at our friends' houses for the "The White Peckers", and how he really "likes The White Peckers." Oh, what our friends must think of us.......

Plea

I have been trying to gather things for a garage sale we hope to have next month and I came across a big toy monster truck that never gets played with (and I mean never- as in totally forgotten), so I stuck it out in the garage. The next day, that truck is back in my living room. Apparently HL saw it in my sale pile and promptly brought it back in, saying something to the effect of "you can't sell this! I love this truck!" So this morning I got to listen to a (seemingly) never-ending plea, why we must keep this truck. "It is so special to me, mommy," he says with his hand on his heart for emphasis. "It's a thousand special." I was told that it was a prize-winning truck. I also got a list of all it's attributes; "it has giant wheels- look how big they are!" And "see, it has a combat engine under it." Or "look how bright the lights are, mommy. See, they're right here on the top." "And look how fast I can push it!" I'm not kidding. He went on and on and on, just like the Energizer bunny. So sincere. So endearing. So the truck stays. Much to my chagrin.

Boys Being Safe

Went to a friend's house over the weekend and we were all out in their back yard. After a while, HL shouts "Mommy! AW and I are on Safety Violation Patrol!" My friend, L, and I look at each other, puzzled expressions on our faces. She asks the question on my tongue "Did he just say Safety Violation Patrol?" Yep, he did. Apparently learned it from his "safety show". So the boys proceeded, under HL's supervision, to clear the area of safety hazards. And so, it is now SAFE TO PLAY!

Exercise

I've been able to get a little more exercise in recently which is great, because I feel so much better when I get my heart pumping. I find it interesting that I know, without a doubt, how much better I feel when I exercise, and yet it is incredibly hard to take that first step. Here's a sample dialogue in my head: "I feel so tired and sluggish....no energy. Hey! Exercise. That'll make me feel better. I could do stairs or crunches... Well, maybe just a little walk.... Nah, screw it- I don't have the energy." So, I don't have the energy for the one thing that could give me my coveted energy. Silliness.

Collections

HL has been talking about the things he's working on collecting; Star Wars toys, dinosaurs, and Playmobil (knights, esp) are three of his collections that I can think of off the top of my head. So what do I collect? Hardback books, postcards, dust and cobwebs.

I hung my flag out today in honor of the victims of 9-11. I would have liked to have hung it at half staff, but that's not an option for my flag. Midway through the day, a storm rolled in, an unusual occurrence for us. If you know about American flags, you know that flags aren't supposed to be rained on, but I left mine out. It seemed a fitting tribute to those that lost their lives; to leave the American flag up in the rain, so I did... Tears from heaven to pay homage to those that died.

Hug

HL was climbing on me this morning and, feeling irritable, I did not care for it. When I told him as much, he climbed up on me again. I took a deep breath before scolding him, and in that time he reached my neck and wrapped his arms around it, tight. "I just wanted to give you a hug, Mommy. I know how much you like them." I do. And that was just what I needed. It completely diffused all my irritation and brought a smile to my face. It's absolutely amazing to me the power my children have over me. Within minutes, they can ruin a perfectly good mood, take me to the depths of irritation, only to drag me right back out again and lead me to joy. They have the ability to make me totally question my parenting skills, and yet also leave me terribly proud in the same day. But the greatest power they have is to keep my love strong. No matter what they do, no matter where I am on the emotional scale, I love them- through and through.

AW decided to give corn on the cob a try finally. Turns out, he likes it so much, he eats it cob and all!! No, we didn't really let him eat the cob, but he sure tried- and enjoyed it, too. So for dinner this night, he ate an entire cob of corn, toast, 4 scoops of raspberries, 4 scoops of watermelon, 2 slices of apple, and almost 2 fried eggs! Man alive, can he pack it away!

Sir AW the strong and rebellious, ready to take on the Three-headed, fire-breathing dragon coming up behind him... With two little boys around, the adventure simply never ends!

Here's a Favorite

Yoda on a Blanket The "My Picture" screen saver we run just popped this picture up. Thought I would share it with you. By the way...now that he is two, he loves to say "I'm Yoda. Daday Chewbaca, Mommy Princes Wee-ah, Bruder Wook."

Better

It's funny. My last post was going to be rambling about relative experiences in people's lives, but took a different direction. A life all it's own. A direction my subconscious mind apparently felt compelled to take me in. By necessity. I was indeed judging myself. And by simply typing that, the thought stuck in my head. I am now reminded that I've had this depression since my adolescent years and I've been told, for just as long, that the form I have is not incidental, it's biological. A chemical imbalance. A physical, medical issue that requires diligence and consistency- just as, say, diabetes or hypertension do. I feel much lighter already. Thanks, mind, for knowing what I needed to hear. Isn't the mind an amazing thing? Now, if only I could bring myself to listen to it closer, sooner....

Relativity

Here I am, sitting on my ass, feeling too exhausted just from all the to-dos running around in my head to do a single thing about any of them. Depressed. Tired. Lonely. And yet, I have this more practical side of my brain which reminds me that, all-in-all, my life is actually fairly nice. I mean, it would be nice to have more money- being able to buy groceries and have some left over to pay bills is a fantasy of mine, after all- and having more time to spend with my children would be beautiful too. But, I do have two glorious sons, am married to my high school sweetheart, have a job that I enjoy, plenty of close family nearby, my health, a home in a safe country, ...... So why am I depressed and deflated? Why should I be so special as to have the permission to feel this way when I really have no reason to? Why indeed. It occurs to me that everyone's experience is absolutely relative to their own life. I feel as though I am not strong inside, can't beat this depression on my own. But maybe, were I faced with some catastrophe, I would find I am indeed strong. When I find myself irritated by other's complaining about something I find trivial, I need to step back, realize that I have no idea what has happened in their life before this moment. And not judge. And maybe not judge myself for being depressed either. Ah, there's something in that. I am terribly hard on myself. Need to be perfect. 'Cause who would like me if I were anything less? And yet, I don't see the same flaws in others around me. Guess I really do need to step back and not judge.

GRRR

Perhaps my recent bout of depression stems from the vacuum created by endless, mind-numbing housework. I swear, I simply do not get it. How in the world do clean-house people do it?!?! It must be a genetic thing. I try, I really, really do. And it seems that every time I pick pu the pace, the kids stay right there with me. Case-in-point: Not ten hours ago, I had just finished cleaning my disgusting kitchen. Not a single dirty dish, nor spill on the counter, nor even a crumb on the floor. And now? Now, the sink is spilling over the sides with dishes full of uneaten meals, and there are toys covering the whole expanse. Even despite my sincere effort at preventing just such a disaster. I wonder, is this what it feels like to "Go Postal"?

Update sadness

Just updated my previous post about AW wanting so badly to go to school with his brother and it left me terribly sad. Sad because, as his mom, I shouldn't have to hear from my hubby how AW acts day to day. This working full-time thing really sucks. Yes, I take great comfort in the fact that at least they're with their daddy, but still... So many moments that I miss. Never to be replayed. (For those of you who don't know us, I'm working full-time so that Hubby can go to school and get an accounting degree. He's at home during the day, at school in the evening.) Perhaps this is part of the reason I've been down lately. At least one reason for it is the fact that I am stuck taking a too-small dose of my antidepressant thanks to a billion-dollar-profit-making insurance company that is unwilling to pay a mere $60/ month for a poor person's sanity. I don't think it's so much to ask- I mean what are they going to do with another $60 a month?!? That's nothing more than a pebble of sand in their beach..... But anyway, back to me. I try not to write posts like this, I try so hard to focus on the good, but I am having a rather difficult time. For a while there, I was doing well- exercising, eating right, feeling almost good. But lately I can't seem to muster enough energy to do anything beneficial for myself. Which just serves to make me feel more guilty. Which makes me eat another couple M & Ms, which makes me feel even more guilty.... you get the picture. Here's hoping it's cyclical- as I have found most of my life to be- and I will swing back around to the healthy eating exerciser I was not too long ago. And hopefully that happens sooner than later. UPDATE: Hubby, I know what you're going to think of this post and that is not my intention in the least. I'm just venting my feelings, preventing an explosion. I agreed to this arrangement, and I plan to follow through. You deserve this and our family will be better off afterward. I understand that. It's just hard for me, is all. Please understand. And now, I hear a midnight snack of comfort food calling....

Letters

"A for A****"...."H for H*****"...."M for Mommy"...."D for Daddy"...."N for Nanny"....."B for Brother" AW's newest trick! He is also able to distinguish numbers from letters and is learning to identify some of both. While he has always enjoyed reading, he's lately stepped up that interest and brings us books to read all throughout the day. And HL, too, has recently shown even more interest in books than before (which is a feat in itself), but instead of bringing us books, he seems to prefer "reading" them himself lately. And last night, for bedtime books, AW picked a simple toddler's word book to read and HL piped up "I'll read that one to you, AW!" They sat next to each other and read the whole book. I loved it. UPDATE: (9/9/06) AW has added the following to his repertoire: O for Octopus, G for GG and Grandma, Q for Queen, D for Dinosaur, S for Snake, and "Die U" (W (doubleU)). The W one always takes me a couple tries.....