Bebe quits smoking...

errr, perhaps not.

Positive thinking??

I've been thinking about giving up smoking again. Although, before I go any further I should amend that, because I read somewhere you're not supposed to look at it as if you're giving something up. That'll make you less likely to suceed. You're supposed to call it quitting, or stopping. It's kind of a play on words designed to make you feel better about it. You're supposed to step up to the line and declare, I'm quitting. It's a positive thing. Giving up implies it's something you're likely to miss and this is no time to be wishy-washy. So... I'm (kind of) reluctantly thinking about (maybe) stopping smoking, again. (Sigh).
It doesn't feel so bad if you say it fast. It only actually starts to feel bad when, as now, I'm almost out of tobacco. I roll my own for economy. Some people won't leave the house without their cell phone. I won't leave without my leather tobacco pouch. I get a bad feeling if I go out without it. It's sad but true. And I get an even worse feeling when I'm forced to root around in its depths for the last few pinches of tobacco. I get like a mild panic attack, as if something terrible is going to befall me if I don't have a cigarette.
Stupid I know, but there it is. I've dedicated a large part of my life to rolling the perfect cigarette. I have it down to a fine art. I love the smell of tobacco in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or any time, actually. The self help books tell you to avoid situations where you usually have a cigarette. Well, they might as well nail the lid down now and have done with it as far as I'm concerned. The only time I don't smoke is in the shower or when I'm asleep. I don't smoke to excess. Not really. I don't think it's excessive. I can go six or eight hours, if I can't smoke somewhere, it doesn't bother me unduly. It's just the thought of never smoking again that fills me with unease.
Even now, when I haven't quite run out of tobacco, I feel this worrying sense of foreboding and dread for the future. I once read about this man who gave up smoking. He lived out in the sticks miles from anywhere. It snowed and he didn't have any smokes and he walked six miles through snowdrifts to reach a store and buy some. Stories like that do not fill me with confidence.
I know it's not good for me, but I like it, dammit! It's the credit crunch. It's only because I'm flat broke today that I'm even thinking, (not very seriously), about giving up. I mean, quitting. (Maybe).

The longest November in memory...

Seems like it's been 231 days since Halloween, and we've still got a week left of this goofy month before we get through it to December...

It seems I've spent an interminable length of time dwelling on whether or not the drugs I'm taking will stabilize my system, if every twinge signifies a dance with the fookin' reaper. I hate the feeling of betrayal by my own body, dammitall, and I don't like not having a clue what's ahead, or feeling like I really should go through all my scribbles and get rid of them now, even though I should never have left the shit pile up over the years like it has...who was that mythic hero who had to shovel out the stable....? I did go through one notebook of junk and really got depressed...it actually was page after page of drivel, meaningless notes, snippets, and things I don't remember at all. Have I actually been packing around a pile of swill ALL these years?

The scary hospital bills have all been taken into account now except for the ambulance...which apparently has some deductible attached to it...so THAT big bastard is still hanging up there over my head like a guillotine blade. For $1700 I could have bought a round trip to somewhere pleasant. Or hired a wino with a wheelbarrow...ah well, we live and learn don't we. What on earth do they bill you for air transport I wonder...Jaysus, that's really scary! The GOOD news is Medicare covered everything but $150.00 of the 2 hospital bills, including all their pricey testing and drugs. The bad news is they won't keep doing that if it happens again and again. The Medicare pocket is not all that deep if I'm recalling right. I really must find that book they sent me.

I don't know what I would have done without silly stuff to do this month to kill time. Moving to Multiply has been half an experience...I'm still not sure about the new place but I've neglected everything else to try and figure it all out. Surfed a bit looking for Irish themed sites but haven't found anything worth joining so far.

There's been no snow on our level so far, but I noticed a dusting on the hill I call Polaris, just south of us, and of course Silver Mountain and both passes have had some snow, but nothing worth noting so far. Maybe this week.

VERY pleased at the lower gas prices...I topped off a half tank the other day at $1.99, just before it dropped to $1.95. I heard though that most stations are adding a surcharge to motorists who use credit cards. Hope they differentiate between credit and debit cards...eek.

Enough bellyaching for one night. My brain is tired now. Hope somebody else will post soon. Maybe we could get a chat organized one of these days? I'm always around....somewhere...

An Experiment

I found another chat site, Lingr, and wanted to see how it works.

I made Peetle our spokespup!
Oh, and the password is craicers

Necessary Evils

Well, I got a new job!  BIG relief.  I don't start until January 5, since it's a new hotel and  doesn't open until March.  Plenty of time to get myself mentally prepared.  The thing is, though, that I am used to a relatively more casual style than this place will require.  At my previous place of employment, I wore corduroys or khakis, depending on the season, with sweaters or blouses.  Now, I will have to wear suits.  (Gasp, shudder.)  I'd bought a new black "interview suit" in August, but never expected to have to wear it for much else, beside the occasional funeral.  So yesterday, my cousin & I went on a shopping trip.  I needed the moral support.  Luckily, I can wear pants, not just skirts.  I would die a thousand deaths before wearing pantyhose every day til I can retire in thirty years.  We went to the Limited up in Fort Collins, where they, like just about everyone else, are having big sales.  I imagine I made my little sales person's day.  She was wonderful, by the way, as was my cousin.  We had a grand time on a slow Friday afternoon.  I ended up with two jackets, four pairs of pants, a fancy blouse & a nice top.  Everything is black, black & white, or gray!  It was funny to see everything heaped together on the counter in all of its monochromatic glory.  I would say I'm covered til summer now.  It was kind of fun, I must admit.

In other news, Seamus, my 12 1/2 year old orange tabby cat, had to go to the vet this week.  I was afraid he was in kidney failure.  The news is somewhat better - he is diabetic.  I began with his insulin injections today.  I was somewhat apprehensive about it, but the needles are so tiny, he didn't even notice.  In fact, there was so little reaction that I feared I'd not actually injected the stuff.  That was a relief.  I had visions of having to chase him around every morning and wrestle him to the ground.  Not a happy start to anybody's day.   Seamus is seen below, with Trevor, enjoying a sunny morning.

Doling it out

"I only know five of them," a woman said to me, standing head and shoulders above a shoal of solemn-faced ghouls and demons. "Those two, I don't know."

I smiled and dropped packages of horses hooves dipped in food dye into the proffered bags. The woman immediately went into Sergeant Major mode:

"Get your stuff and walk away! Get your stuff and walk away! Move it! Move it! Move it!"

The shoal turned and moved away with some mumbled "Thanks." "Those two" mingled with the crowd and tagged along. I went back to my supper.

Ding-dong!

Two rigid kids in plastic ghost masks standing between a young Mammy were mumbling the "Help the Halloween Party" mantra as soon as they saw me through the glass door.

"What?" I asked, as the door slid back. They snapped to attention, plastic shopping bags stretched taut in fright.

"Trick or treat, then?" the slightly taller one asked, quavering.

"I suppose I'd better give you something, so," I said, reaching out with two fat packages. You couldn't fit an empty envelope in the opening of the bags they were stretched so tight.

"Open the bag for the man!" Mammy said. The message was completely lost on them. I risked toppling out the door head first and leaning out precipitously used my free hand to open the bag a little, then dropped in the sweets. The kids stood waiting for permission to do whatever came next.

"Say thank you to the man!"

Two mumbled thank yous accompanied the duo being hauled back from the door. I wasn't sure if my promotion to being The Man was a welcome development.

A little later, two girls about 13 years old arrived, both of them dressed in black and white, one with ghoulish face paint, the other in a mask. They were just at the age where everything is mortifying.

"Hello!" I said, cheerfully.

They smiled and clutched their bags in mute embarrassment. The one without a mask didn't know where to look: The Man was saying hello!

I threw two packets of sweets at them. The packet for the one with the mask seemed slightly smaller: the luck of the draw. They both looked silently at it for a moment. I grinned and shrugged encouragingly. Wordlessly, they turned away and almost falling over each other in their haste, they scuttled out the gate and up the road.

No Halloween collection for them next year, I guess. They'll be too old and grown up.

The bonfire on the green opposite the house was a modest one. Herself and I watched the random fireworks bursting overhead for a while through the bedroom window, then we played with sparklers in the back yard until it got cold.

All done for another year, bar eating the leftover sweeties.

Couple things in my head today...

One was Longfellow's poem Excelsior, which I loved and memorized for some odd reason when I was a kid in school. You can look it up if you've a mind to...but don't bother if you aren't into poetry.

The other was this song originally done so well by the late Sam Cooke. I loved it! Then I heard Tina Turner do it in concert in France a long time ago...anyway I found it again tonight by both of them and a few others. It's a grand song, but I remember saying when I saw Tina do it I was just floored at her powerful delivery. "I think she's the only woman who SHOULD sing it". Apologies to Aretha, but sister, I think Tina knows that river....just a little better.