Quitting: Day Three, Pill Three

I'm on my third day of Chantix. Just finished my breakfast and pill. I don't know that the meds are working but the mindset is right in that I smoke, but I find it less satisfying.

Sam was upset thus morning about going to preschool and wanted to come home. I made him go in but it's very upsetting when the easy thing is to let him come home and play.

The one thing that has gone right this morning is that I come home and turn on BBC and there's _The Doctor's Wife_ episode playing right at the hero moment. And that makes me smile.

Who am I kidding? Lots of things make me smile. I have a lot to smile about...

Quitting Day 2

Thursday Nov.20. 2013

Today I'm putting into motion the end a 25+ year affair. I don't think that my mistress even knows it's happening. And I hate to blindside her, she's been there through some of the roughest and some of the best times. But it's not out of spite that I do this. She's just no good for me. 

Bacon biscuit, bottle of water and my first Chantix pill. 

Here's to me not climbing a bell tower.

______________


That's how my day started yesterday. I'm quitting smoking. I'm taking Chantix to help me along on my recovery from this addiction. And believe me, it's an addiction much like any other. You can argue that this is way easier than recovering from or just plain out quitting drugs or alcohol and I would argue that you are wrong. This particular flavor of addiction is easier to stay with because it's there and easy to grab. I live in a community where just walking into a liquor store is something that would be seen. I used to drink quite heavily and one of the perks of moving back home is that I'm always in view of everyone.So no more worries of alcoholism getting to me. I'm on the straight an narrow as far as that is concerned.

Somehow the same doesn't hold true for smoking. It's more accepted for some reason as just something that happens. I wish it was just as shameful for me. 

As I wrote yesterday, smoking has been there for me through the rough and the good times. I do enjoy smoking. But it has come time that we part ways. It's expensive, it's unhealthy and I just don't want it anymore. 

I'm done. The medicine hasn't had time to kick in yet, but I already don't want to smoke although I have. 

I think it is going to stick this time.

I know it's going to stick this time.

I'm taking my second pill as soon as my biscuits I've just cooked have cooled off and I can slap some bacon on one. 

No vivid dreams or feelings of depression yet. No mystery aches or pains. It's all in the mind.

Here's to "clean" living.

Saturday

This past Saturday was the wife's birthday and she wanted to do something special. Not shopping, no big dinner, no trip to the theater. She's just not that kind of gal.

She wanted to finish the dam at Lake Murray near Irmo, SC.

If you Munzee, you know what these power trails are like. Walk and scan, walk and scan. It is time consuming, it is quite a walk and it's fun!

We started this particular cluster earlier this year, just before what I like to call the Great Undeployment of '13, which I know is a sore subject for some folk but it does play a part in this story. So be patient.

I started in Munzee when it first came around. I didn't think much of it at first. It tool a while to grow on me. I was still heavily involved in another geo hobby and was reluctant to change. Things and people get old and after a decade of the other hobby I decided that I would change. I still do the other hobby but if I continue in it as heavy as I was, I wouldn't have any joy left for it. So here I am.

One Sunday, when the kids went with my parents after church, we were in Camden,SC to get the weeks groceries and have lunch. She was playing one of those mindless games like Candy Crush or some such, one of the ones that keeps me awake at night due to the glow from her iPad on the other side of the bed and I was grabbing a few Munzees in between stops. She asked what I was doing and I grabbed her phone and installed the app. In a few minutes she was hooked. (See this post.) And so we found a hobby in common that we could enjoy together again.

We aren't really ones who Munzee for points. The only competition is between us and our friend Wally. I have never really worried about points in any of these games. I just want to get out and enjoy myself.

Which brings my back around to the point of this story. The dam at Lake Murray was a thick cluster. Some of the Munzees were four in one place. There weren't many that were there alone and I was dreading hearing that buzz of "archived" all day long. I really tried to find somewhere else that we could go and something else we could do for the day, but she only asked for this one thing, to finish that cluster. How can you say no to a gal on her birthday?


I could just imagine how long it was going to take for us to make it down the damn. And I could also imagine how frustrated I was going to be about halfway through. I hate when things like this happen and it dampens my enthusiasm for whatever game I'm playing. I only ran one power trail while I was deep in geocaching. It was 108 caches on New Years Day of 2012. I swore to never do it again because halfway through I had a "I just want to get this over with" mentality. I had fun with my friend that was with me, always did no matter what. But it was mind numbing to hit cache after cache. 

I was prepared for Saturday to be like that.

I was wrong.

I want to take a moment to praise the Munzers in that area. Either a very dedicated Munzer or a large group of them have gone through and removed at least 80% of the archived Munzees on that dam. No trash. It's a pleasant cluster full of active Munzees. This made me smile. I've seen archived power trails with moldy pieces of log left on their own in film canisters all over the east coast. I am very pleased to be associated with folks who take a certain pride in the game so as not to put a bad public face to it. It's refreshing, even more so because I found this in my home state. If I could afford it I would send most everyone that has a Munzee on that dam a diamond or a mystery just to say good job.

This is why I play these games. It gets me out and active. It lets me see the world. I get to see the history of the area, I get to meet other players. Occasionally, I get to tell people about whatever game I am playing. We had a gent download the app in front of us on the dam Saturday so that he and his boys could start playing.

We have our problems occasionally. Undeployed limits, clusters that don't follow the few rules we have to the letter, etc. But in the end this is all about fun and getting out there.

And this is why I play.

This morning...

I dropped Sam off at school and was going to run by the bank to pay a bill. I thought they would be open at 8:30 but 9:00 it was. My original plan this morning was to do the bank thing and head over to the track at our church to get some walking in. I ended up walking in town and figured out that the six miles from Saturday with Mags really did a number on my left ankle.

I walked a mile+ this morning and checked on my Munzees and played Ingress while doing it. I grabbed some AP and made a small field and I'm happy.

I got in some exercise which will increase in the next  few weeks so I'm good.

It's my blog, I'll write what I want.

Ghost Stories: A Visit From PawPaw

I knew him all my life until he was called home when I turned fifteen. He was one of my first teachers and probably my first friend. His name was Henry Criminger, but I called him PawPaw.

He and MawMaw (another story) lived on farm land that they leased from a lady in the community. The family didn't inherit it after they passed on of course, it wasn't theirs. But the old home place and the outbuildings still remained decades after. They had running indoor water but still used an outhouse. They had electricity but no switches on the wall, all the lights were the bare bulb, pull string lights. They farmed and had a few animals. We killed a hog every year, picked vegetables from a garden plowed with a mule and had Sunday dinner there most every week when I was little.

PawPaw used to try to scare me and my cousin Pat by making a sound that I can only describe as a wounded cow, only spookier. A maaaaaaawwwwww. Very guttural, very loud. It always spooked us.

I went back there after I separated from the army, nostalgia I guess. I wasn't into photography then, I wish I was. The house sat at the end of a long dirt and gravel drive with four huge oak trees on the property. Maybe more, it has been a long time since I've been there or thought about it. I went into the house to have a look around. It was falling apart of course. I don't know that anyone lived there after MawMaw moved out (she lived with Mom and Dad for fifteen years after PawPaw passed.) 

In the kitchen was some of the old free standing cabinetry, stuff that antique collectors would kill for. Old cabinetry with porcelain counter tops and the old sink and spigots that would be stripped from a deserted home nowadays for the metal.

And there in the middle of the kitchen sat MawMaws old table. Kudzu had made its way in through the floors and entwined its way up the legs of the table and chairs. It wasn't spooky, I wasn't scared, I was sad. If you only know how many biscuits I ate at that table. A lot of family meals and Christmas dinners, Thanksgiving and Easter, etc. You could still smell the smells and hear the sounds. Well, I could anyway.

 In one of the cabinets there was still a stick of peppermint candy in an old box. I still like that stuff. They always had peppermint candy. The powdery, stick kind.

I walked out onto the back porch where the old freezer used to be. There was one of the old string lights. I pulled the string more to hear the click than expecting it to light up. One of the ice boxes was still sitting there. Along side it was a Pepsi crate with a couple of old, glass long neck Mt. Dew bottles. I think PawPaw started a lifelong addiction to the stuff for me. I still love it.

I walked out into the backyard and down to the old barns, past the dog pen and old salt box house. I was just wandering and remembering. He had a small blacksmith shop and chicken pens. They really had most everything they needed to live there. Some of the grape vines are planted at my parents now. My daughter has eaten some of the same grapes I used to.

I was standing there just lost in thought when I heard it.

MAAAAAAAAWWWWWWW!

My skin went cold and my knees went weak. The hair stood on the back of my neck. 

I knew that if I turned right then I would see him standing there on the back porch grinning with his hands cupped around his mouth, the sun glinting off his glasses. In those old overalls that always make me think of him when I see an old man at the grocery store wearing them. Looking back on it I wish I had, but I was frozen in place.

When I finally turned around the string light was swinging just a little and I could swear I saw a shadow just flit away.

But maybe that was the sun and shadows playing tricks on my eyes. And maybe it was just a memory playing over in my mind.

I guess I'll never know.

A New Dead Language

I read a lot. I find it sad that languages die because the native speakers of that language pass away. 

Dialects like Cromarty, a Scottish dialect, that died with this gentleman. 

Just think of the stories that are lost because there was one word that can't be translated into any other language. Think of the sound of that language, even though you or I may never have heard it. It was probably music to someone's ears as they came home from war or the first thing they ever heard as they came into this world. 

Today, here in the US, a language started its descent into history. My son underwent a frenulectomy to correct the fact that he was tongue tied. A simple procedure and we were in and out in less than two hours. A little discomfort and lots of pudding and Jello. He's okay. 

But he has already started to hit letters dead on that weren't there before when he speaks. He said his sisters name, Logan, properly today instead of Wogan. 

A language started dying today. It's last speaker is still living but just gave it up through necessity. I am the last person who could translate that language but I couldn't properly speak it if I tried. 

The language of Sam can be added to the list of dead languages. It is exciting that he moves on in life but I am going to miss that little connection that only he and I had. 

Blessings

I was at the grocery store picking up a few things. I happened to take my change with my from the jar on my desk because I am lazy and don't like to roll change. It's time consuming, change is dirty, I just plain out don't want to do it and other things can be done with my time. I usually get twenty to fifty dollars out of my change jar so yeah, that's groceries. Milk, bread, drinks, etc. Money's money. 

We aren't hard up for money. As a matter of fact when a lot of people around us were failing we were just fine. That's not a brag. We were lucky in that. We still hang in there and do great for all that's going on in the United States right now. Most all of our stuff is paid for, we don't carry a car note (although we may again soon), so we have a house payment, the regular bills, and taxes each year. No more than anyone else has to do. It's not a hardship it's life. But that's not why I'm writing this.

Across from the machine are the little quarter candy machines, you know, gum, hard candy, little cheap knick-knacks your kids are always asking for change for and there's a little guy standing there doing his thing, trying to figure out what he wants. No adults around, so no one to watch how he's acting and he's pondering his choices. Just a little fella, probably eight or so and clean cut, just a face in a sea of faces.

I put the change in a blue bandana instead of carrying my jar. No breakage and I can just fold it and slip it in my pocket. I'm self conscious at that machine. I know that most people think that you're broke and having to use your change to make due and believe it or not, I am not the most self confident guy in the world. I don't know that it's being self conscious or just the way I've been trained but I am constantly aware of most anything going on around me. I know how many people are in my area and what I can do to protect myself or my family. I know who's watching me and who isn't watching there kids. It's just a thing. Anyway...

I take the change and dump it into the hopper and make my selection for the service I want. I always go for the cash. Amazon and B&N cards are awesome choices but I can do the same with cash and pretty much buy what I need. I have the bandana and I'm folding it. It gives me something to do while I wait. I take out my cell and I'm about to check in with you fine folk on G+ when someone taps me on the shoulder. It's the little dude. 

"Here, you can have my quarter. I don't really need it. And you look like could probably use it more."

The Grinch's heart had nothing on mine in that moment except for the fact that mine melted instead of grew. Kids don't really have the concept of money, well, they have the concept but not the love of money that we as adults do. It was his quarter. He hadn't gotten anything from the machines and had nothing in his hand, I had been watching him as well. Apparently he'd been watching me too. Kids do that sometimes, they watch what you do.

I grinned and told him I was just rolling loose change and that I didn't like doing it at home. He said his Dad didn't either and motioned to the bench outside where a guy probably about my age was sitting. I told him thanks for the offer but I was okay and he walked out to sit down with his Dad. I imagine Mom was inside shopping.

After I got my voucher I walked out to where he and his father were sitting and praised that boy up and down. I also praised the father for getting it right. Such a little thing but that's the kind of heart I want my kids to show. I don't care that someone else might do the wrong thing with what they give people, I want them to have that kind of heart where it is giving freely for love of another human being.

This is how I was raised and how I will raise mine. Kindness.

You all know what a blessing is. I don't care if you believe or you don't. I've been a quarter short before and had to put something back. I've been out of house for my own stupid actions and decisions before too. This kid wasn't judging. He saw someone he thought was in need and he acted. He was a blessing sent tonight not cause I needed the money but because I've had a bad day and someone knew that I needed that smile put on my face.

I wish we could all be like him.

After I got my few things I pulled a dollar out of my change to give him when I walked outside but just as mysteriously as he appeared, he was gone. He was probably out pulling someone from a burning building or stopping a bank robbery. Okay, maybe not. But I'm sure one day he will.

Heroes don't stick around for thanks.

Peace.

S