the patio

the patio

Insight to who I am? Well right now, all I can think of is a cigarette smoker – recovering.  I know that sounds horrifically small – but it is what it is for now. Yesterday afternoon, I smoked my last cigarette – so this morning is my first morning without a cigarette in just about 3 years and it sucks! As I began typing this blog, I looked out onto my patio and saw a dirty, wet cigarette butt and it actually made me want one – ewwww, how gross (pause) – that’s not true, I don’t actually think it’s gross – it caused a “stir” in my body, a yearning of sorts – nostalgia.

So rather that focus on the entirety of my life – I want to focus on my life since 2013. My apologies in advance, the task of writing this blog is exceedingly difficult because in this very moment I’m going through nicotine withdrawal – my thoughts are an uncharacteristically scattered and there’s sort of a foggy, shadow lingering in my mind.  My nose is running non-stop, my ears are ringing and I’m having a hard time swallowing due to the thick layer of phlegm coating my throat, what is worse, I just can’t seem to sit still and focus. This is going to be tough – I’m searching for the “right” word – nada! I’m digging for wit, some humor, again, nada! So, I decided to just be transparent, to give you what I got right now – raw.

I married a co-worker. In 2011, some seriously extenuating circumstances (Divine intervention)  led us to work together on an emergency assignment.  Up unitl then, we hadn’t noticed each other even though we were in the same department! Needless to say,  the assignment changed my life forever.  

One fateful night, we were sitting on our patio. He with a beer, myself with a cocktail. For some unknown, sh*tty reason (yes, the reason must have the stench and look of feces) I asked to have one of his cigarettes (I’m still baffled at my utter stupidity).  Right, so a bizarre moment, one in which I totally suspended all rational judgment, I decided that I wanted to try a cigarette. Wild moment, just wild. Why in the world at 39 would I decide to pick up a dangerous, arguably one of the most despicable habit’s on earth? I don’t know, but it went down on my patio.

So what makes me…me? What makes me tick? My passion? You tell me…

I absolutely love going to the driving range, indeed swinging a club and hitting a ball is a great stress reliever for me. The “ping” of the ball as the club makes contact instantly settles any anger I may hold. The moments leading up to the swing, the planting of my feet, you know, getting them just right. Rolling my shoulders, ensuring I’m completely relaxed and loose. Rotating my wrist and head circles. Oh yes, golf is a passion of mine. And you know what really makes it special? The drag of a cigarette, slow…slow, take time and inhale slow and watch the smoke slowly form a cloud around my dry, cracked lips. Slower now, savor the moment.

Indeed, I love golf.

Driving (without traffic) brings me unspeakable joy – as I child, my dad and I drove around aimlessly enjoying the ride, looking out the window and taking in the scenery. Now, I drive as a form of pleasure.  The window being my time machine, I search for buildings that I believe to have a story – old run down buildings surely if those walls could talk, would tell stories. Architectural unique homes, a century old church –and abandoned baseball field – all have stories and I love dreaming about their story, I like to envision of what once was and what will be. And you know what adds to the intensity of my pleasure drive?  The sound of the flickering of a lighter as I light the tip of a “fresh” cigarette. The initial inhale of smoke as my lungs expand to hold the smoke, the tapping of ashes out the car window as I allow my imagination to run wild with what could be.

I love driving.

I can’t think of anything else I spend more time on than reading. I read everything, from the random to the very specific.  That started with my mother.  As I child she would make me read the backs of cereal boxes during breakfast. What started out in childhood has carried on to adulthood. I read everything from billboards to menus – front and back.  You know what makes reading extra special? Sitting outside on a cozy bench on a warm sunny day. The air full of the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass ---- and a newly lit cigarette. Oh the joy of reaching in my pocket for a pack while holds a book in the other. The sweet sound of birds chirping and the sizzling sound of the paper burning as the cigarette get smaller.

Reading is what I desire.

Farmers market, flea markets, hand made gems – oh my! Strolling through an open market – of any kind really – is so much fun to me! I especially like homemade goods and quirky artifacts.  I spend hours on end wandering around open market places, it just never gets old. I ask myself questions about people’s extreme abilities, interests and motivation. I seem to enjoy it more now than during any other time in my life. The sheer appreciation I have while there can only be amplified while smoking a cigarette – what greater reward can there be than that of a swirling of smoke on my tongue as I gaze upon, in many instances, one-of-a-kind artwork, genuine, original expressions of oneself.  Inhale, exhale, inhale, and exhale….

An open markets is paradise.

As I write this, I’m sitting on the patio, thinking about all the things I love to do.