A toast, in memory of Marlboro Reds.

My decision to quit smoking did not arise primarily from health or financial convictions. Rather, I didnt want to walk to base to buy a fresh pack. To Laziness, I attribute this sacrifice. By the time I had the energy to pursue some smokes I had been off nicotine for a whole day, and considering that a significant head start, I decided to run with it. I was up for a fight. The first couple of days I confined myself to my room, sleeping through most of the physical withdrawals. If I wasnt sleeping I was crunching through a carrot or an apple and reading "Still Life with Woodpecker" by Tom Robbins. The book is, "sort of a love story that takes place inside a pack of Camel cigarettes." so I found it fitting.

Robbins writes, "Three of the four elements are shared by all creatures, but fire was a gift to humans alone. Smoking cigarettes is as intimate as we can become with fire without immediate excruciation. Every smoker is an embodiment of Prometheus, stealing fire from the gods and bringing it on back home. We smoke to capture the primordial spark, to feed on the marrow of the volcano. Its not the tobacco were after but the fire. When we smoke, we are performing a version of the fire dance, a ritual as ancient as lightning. Does that mean that chain smokers are religious fanatics? You must admit there's a similarity. The lung of the smoker is a naked virgin thrown as a sacrifice into the godfire."

I can see those words etched into the headstone of my dearly departed addiction. But before I am tempted to revive it, Robbins continues,

"You found a key to wisdom in the Camel pack...I mean, it spells it right out. CHOICE.  A persons looking for a simple truth to live by, there it is. CHOICE. To refuse to passively accept what we've been handed down by nature or society, but to choose for ourselves. CHOICE. That's the difference between emptiness and substance, between a life actually lived and a wimpy shadow cast on an office wall."

Im not quite sure why I quit smoking. Cancer and cost are two logical reasons and sure, I wasn't up for a walk across town for the cheap American cigarettes, but something else is there, something deeper and cleaner. I think I just wanted to change up my life, to shake my world, to prove to myself that I was alive and capable of change. and now that I think about it, thats probably why I started smoking in the first place.

I was having a strange dream about crayfish communities in the air vents, eating away at our kiwis. Sneaky little bastards. But finding myself intrigued, I hit the snooze button one, two, too many times; so I woke up with forty minutes to get to my drivers license test. I ran out of my room, suppressing the sound advice of teachers and mothers everywhere, "Eat a good breakfast before a big test." The walk was brisk, leaving no time for casual observation, just bee-line determination. Charging into Head Quarters I realized, "I forgot my checkbook. and my keys." sigh. But the teacher, an old German man with all black clothing, a gold guitar necklace, and sorta feminine boots, reassured me that all would be okay. I could pay later. The class consisted of me and the teacher. My co-worker, who is also required to get his license, was a no show. Probably hung over.  We watched a couple of videos. One was about winter driving in Michigan, and the other was about driving in Europe, narrated by a delightfully hokey German Police Officer who often pointed at the camera and stuttered while reading the English prompts. We then went over traffic signs. Then he vaguely gave me the answers to a few of the difficult questions. Score. The test was taken, passed, and filed so I headed home to grab my check book, praying that my roommate didn't lock the room.

On the way home I passed a man chopping wood in front of his house. Anyone who doubts the artistic value of hard work should take one look at a Bavarian wood-stack.  Organized by size. Painstakingly level . Simply speaking: perfect. I can't decide if these piles of fire wood should be considered sacred or insane. Maybe its both.

My roommate didn't lock the room. He must have seen my keys sitting on the table. Having an hour before I have to be back at HQ, I kick off my shoes and open the fridge. I cook up an Eggy in a Basket (I feel four every time I say it) and read some Moby Dick, sitting by the window of course.