Misanthropes R Us

So much for yesterday's rant. Truth be told I'm a hypocrite. Once every year or two I allow myself the enjoyment of a good cigar (outside in the backyard of course). Quitting cigarettes was hard, very hard. I tried and failed many times until I hit upon the secret which would finally work for me. That was twenty-five years ago, before "the Patch". I'll gladly tell you, but don't expect miracles.

There"s one universal element common to all the How I Quit Smoking success stories - you have to want to quit, and if you don't failure is inevitable. Let's face it. I was doomed, and I knew it. Then one day it happened.

I'd decided to quit once more. I was doing good. No wait, let's keep this real. I wasn't really. It was the third day, and I was Jonesin' in the worst way for one drag off a Winston. A Marlboro just wouldn't do. One drag, and then I'd go cold turkey again, promise. Don't exactly know who I was making promises to, but that was part of what made my rationalizations seem okay. Suddenly Ronnie Boyce walked around the corner.

Ronnie Boyce was a dink. He'd played the court jester in the CYO play about Old King Cole and his parents had secretly gone out and rented a professional green silk and silver costume for him, complete with pointy shoes and belled hat. The rest of us had homemade costumes. He stole the show (guess who'd played the part of Ole King Cole?). Who ever heard of people cheering for a bad guy in a play? Now we were adults and he was dating my buddy's ex whom my buddy was still in love with.

"Hello, Andrew."

Hello, Newman, I mean, Ron.

"What's new, Andrew?"

Not much, Ron.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Cigarette?"

Naw, I'm trying to quit.

Hearing that encouraged him. "Go on, take one."

I looked at the open pack he held out, cigarettes thrust out in my direction. Kents. Not my brand. So what. Ya sure, I'll take one, and I pulled one out. And then I thought, why you assh... you'd love to see me light up, wouldn't you? I ripped the cigarette into tiny shreds.

Well, his jaw dropped, and the look on his face. It was priceless. You'd have thought I'd just run over his dog. I'd never felt so empowered.

He stomped off. I laughed. The smell of the tobacco was still on my fingers. After three days, your sense of smell is heightened beyond normal. It was satisfying. My cravings ebbed. Later on I borrowed another cigarette just to have around to smell. It got me through the first week, and the rest is history.

P.S. One month anniversary without lisinopril - BP after being out and about, 119 over 74, woo woo! Not out of the woods yet. Bought a blender two days ago and smoothies are now a daily staple - strawberry yogurt, OJ, bananas, apples, pears, lemon juice, cantaloupe, and the kitchen sink. Can't cut out salt altogether. Trying to keep within 1000 milligrams max daily.