I know, that title brings up a million questions,,, Have I given up on my hair, being Robin Hood, the hope of the plumber coming back anytime soon to fix the holes in my fucking ceiling so I can FINALLY get rid of the garbage bags and buckets all over my house…?! Well yes, I kind of have given up on the last one, actually… It’s been months and I’m STILL waiting for him to come fix the holes in my ceiling and to give me a write up for the homeowner’s insurance so I can get some of the money back that I shelled out. I’m at the point where I’m going to start telling people that the garbage bags are modern art pieces and not just something I used as tarps to keep things dry while the plumber was cutting holes in my ceiling…

No no… What I’m referring to is so much bigger than the issue with the plumber (although that issue is pretty fucking big). I have news…

So two days ago, October 16th, pretty much out of the blue, I finally decided to quit smoking for no apparent reason whatsoever… Well, I can’t say it was out of the blue, really. I got the emphysema diagnosis a year ago, I’ve known I had to quit… I just couldn’t. Oh, I cut back and was doing awesome, but then something really stressful came up and I couldn’t handle it without my cigarettes, so I was right back to a pack and a half a day again. You’d think a diagnoses of emphysema and then one about 4 months ago of aortic stenosis would make you wake up and quit, but nicotine is such an addictive substance that people find it easier to get off hard drugs than cigarettes. Plus there was the length of time I’d been smoking. I started when I was 15 (not counting how much I’d gotten from my parents and their second hand smoke before that) and I’m 50. That’s 35 years… It’s become so much of my identity that I kept thinking, “If I quit and stop being a smoker, who the fuck will I be? Will I know who I even am anymore?!” Not something you want to do to someone who already has identity issues, let me tell you…

Monday was a bad day… I’d been seriously triggered by something that left me in a dark place. Then Morticia called me to push me over the edge from “dark place” to “omg, you can’t possibly be this fuckiing clueless!” But as I’m sure you’ve all figured out by now, yes… yes she fucking can. I was so upset that I called my one friend for some mental help. Somehow the conversation turned to the fact that she and a good amount of her family quit smoking by transitioning to vaping. I’d tried it before and I didn’t care for it (it hurt my lungs), but I was desperate. She told me of the reputable shops she has been going to for years and I thought why not. I was bound and determined to do this. I had my mind totally made up before I left for my guitar lesson that day that I was going to make the switch that afternoon. So once my lesson was done, I went to the shop, got a vape pen and some juice for it and off I went…

I know this sounds totally random and impulsive, but it kind of wasn’t… I mean, I knew I needed to quit. It was just doing it that was difficult. And for the last several weeks before I made this decision, there were times I would go for hours without a cigarette (something unusual for me) because I wasn’t feeling well when I smoked the majority of the time anymore and, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t even enjoying it anymore. So when we were having this talk I thought, “What the fuck, I’m going to quit, use vaping as my step down and then I quit everything completely.” I’m really committed to this as I bought two pens (one for my purse and one for home because I’m forever forgetting things if I run out in a hurry) and this bottle of juice that will last me forever. It’s strawberry lime flavored and it tastes really good!

I know what you’re thinking… Vaping isn’t safe. And you’re right; it’s not. This isn’t forever, though. Right now I’m on the highest concentration of nicotine from which I can slowly wean myself down until I’m not getting any at all. Actually, I’m not getting much now. I only take one small hit off this thing because more than that is too much. I’m used to ultra light cigarettes, so this hits harsh for me no matter what I do. So once small hit every hour or two? I should be able to cut back on my nicotine intake soon enough. And since I’m not keen on the feel of vaping, I don’t think that will become a permanent fixture, either. Even something like strawberry lime, which should be incredibly tart (hence the reason I chose this flavor) is actually a bit too sweet. It’s like you’re inhaling cotton candy… I’m not a big sweet, sugary fan. Good as it tastes, eventually I’ll get sick of it and want to puke from it and want to quit.

And so here we are… It’s fall and the leaves are actually turning this year (something that really hasn’t been happening where I live for a while now). Isn’t this the greatest shot? Vibrantly colored leaves against a dull, stormy looking sky? This is why I love fall so much! But not this year… I’m really struggling with something and I don’t know what the fuck it is. I’m just feeling so damn down, I just don’t want to go places, do things… I don’t even want to go out and see the beautiful leaves changing or shuffle my feet through the ones that have fallen, hearing them crunch under my feet… Halloween is coming, which is tied with Christmas for my favorite holiday, and I just don’t fucking care… Normally I can’t wait to hand out candy and see all the little ones in their costumes and see how cute they look. Hell, I even give candy to the older siblings if they’re the ones taking them around. And these are the very kids in my “hood” that I can’t stand the other 364 days of the year because they’re little fucking punks, but on Halloween, I like them all, especially if they get in the spirit and dress up. But I don’t care this year…

Now, I know I was in a really dark place Monday, but I was really looking forward to my guitar lesson that day. No matter how badly I may feel about things, I know that I can sit down with, let’s call him Dan, and he’ll either teach me something new or we’ll just jam and I’ll feel so much better. In fact, during the time I’ve been taking lessons, Dan and I have become friends and I’m grateful to have such an amazing friend that can also play by ear, someone I can discuss weird music theory with and he gets it and is on track because he’s one of the few people that gets it, too.

So Monday’s lesson starts out as normal, I’m digging out my sheet music and talking about how I’ve been as Dan is tuning Constantine… He always jams a little once he has him tuned and always tells me, “I love this guitar…” with such a wistful smile of appreciation. I know he does. In fact, every guy that works there knows Constantine and loves him because he’s a DiAngelico (which is a fairly top notch acoustic guitar). Plus he’s a 12 string so he really sounds beautiful as opposed to a 6 string of any make. Anyway, I had thought about this several days before, so when he had made comment again, I said, “Good, I’m going to will him to you when I die.” Poor Dan, he seemed seriously freaked out and upset and told me not to say things like that. He knows I have health issues, which I think is why he was upset. But that wasn’t all how I meant it. I looked at him, cocked my head and said, “You’re going to be 37… Realistically you’re going to outlive me, Dan.” I’m going to be 51 in April. That made more sense to him.

Forgive my overuse of the teeth whitening filter.. You know, when the light hits thin enamel wrong… Well, your teeth just look terrible… Be that as it may, I thought this picture I took at Brickfest would be appropriate since, you know, I’ve been a bit on the Dark Side… They do not have cookies here, I’m sorry to say… I haven’t meant to be and I didn’t mean to upset Dan on Monday. It was just something that popped into my head one day that I wanted him to have Constantine when I was gone because he appreciates him so. And he had mentioned he was going to be 37 (so young!) which just made me think of it again, so I made mention, that was all. Let’s be real, here… I’m going to be 51 in about 6 months. I have a lot of health issues that aren’t good and I’m aging on the inside prematurely because of losing my ovaries. Inside, I’m like a 70 year old. I don’t see myself living a very long life. I’m just being realistic. And Dan is the only person I’d want to have my baby Constantine. That’s all…

So… my mom gave me a bunch of pictures the one day (you know, back when people used actual cameras that used film) and some other interesting oddities… This was one of the pictures in the stack. This is me when I was maybe 23 or 24 years old? I’m going to say 24… Christmas Day at my sister’s judging by the ugly Christmas sweater. But… I don’t remember this picture ever being taken or have a clue who would have taken it. I know I didn’t pose for it… So why does it look like I did?! I’m so completely freaked out by this picture, it’s not even funny. Who the fuck took this?! Why don’t I remember it?! Why did my mom give me a reminder of how I looked more than 25 years ago, knowing I’ll just feel bad because I don’t look that good now?! It’s the Tootsie Roll Pop effect: The world may never know…

However, I did get this gem in that pack of photos and other little oddities. It may not look like much to you except a blurry ass old picture with ugly decor and people in ugly clothes and why the fuck are those two kids dressed in the same outfit?! Hahahaa… This would be Christmas at my house! I have no idea what year… I look like I was 4, maybe 5? So 1977 or 1978 is my guess. The little girl on the left that looks miserable with such a shitty haircut? That’s me sitting on my favorite cousin’s lap. Then my grandmother is next followed by my cousin that inspired me to play the guitar (he’s passed away now) with my sister on his lap and my other cousin on the floor in front. No, my sister and I don’t look anything alike but neither of us are adopted and we have the same parents. And my mother liked to dress us up in the same exact outfits for Christmas, heaven help us… But why this photo is gold is the painting on the wall. I always loved it and my mom got rid of it decades ago. All I had was my memory of it to go off of to try and recreate it, which I was going to attempt. Then she gave me this! Now I can recreate it with confidence! As a weird side note, I still own the sunburst clock (it hangs in my living room now), the stand ashtray (between the sofa and recliner) and the coffee table… Don’t ask… I’m just a retro girl at heart I guess…