it only took ten years

but i quit smoking

Hello 2010

I am excited about this new year and this new decade. There is nothing quite like a fresh start. This one feels auspicious riding in on the tail of a blue moon and bringing a new decade as its traveling partner.

2009 was a difficult year for many. Been thinking of taking a carpe diem approach to 2010 and embracing the notion that it's all going to be great.

Personally, the challenges of the last few years have reminded me that I can trust my instincts, that I usually land on my feet, that I'm lucky in love.

I see a bit of skeet shooting on the horizon. I'll be throwing things into the air to take big shots at new things. And I'll try to enjoy the sport even if it turns out that I'm hitting clay pigeons.

Last, but no means least - I sincerely wish joy, prosperity, creativity, health and grace for my family and friends in this new year. May we all thrive and support one another, reach our goals and sleep well at night.

How I Feel Now

Childbirth and not smoking are the two things that have robbed me of my vitality. I yearn to be the clever, clear, agile mind and physical body I was not so long ago. Will somebody tell me that it's not lost forever? I have no edge - I am all middle right now.

Need to give RM a call. Blogging is fine but need the conversation.

According to my Quit Net Gadget (the image won't load) I have now not smoked 59 cigarettes (really only 57); have saved 10 hours of lifetime (I'll take that as vacation, please) and saved $13.35 (the exact amount I paid for French cake mascara at a Nordstrom's sale this weekend).

Easy come, easy go...

One Week and A Good Cry

Late last night I hit the week mark and had a much needed deep sob - by myself - while watching In Her Shoes.

Basil Gelato and Normalcy

If you haven't had the Basil gelato at Whole Foods then go get some because it's one of the five most amazing things I've tasted in my lifetime. I don't know why having Basil gelato instead of Irish Stew on St. Patrick's day seemed the right thing to do but it did. St. Patrick's Day always makes me think of the Annie Proulx novel - Accordion Crimes.

Yesterday afternoon I left work early and went out to Rio Vista to see Frankie ride. She took a first in jumping and a second in walking but also the coveted Horsewoman honor that she'd wished for so long. I'll need to remember to check the Maine Root website as the uncle of one of the campers created this organic rootbeer and brought a lot of it out for the girls.

Then Frankie, Nicolette and I headed back to town taking the Sixth street route so we could drive through the SXSW/St. Patrick's Day mayhem. It was some damn fine people watching with music streaming out of every doorway, balconies full of happy revelers, musicians hauling instruments in and out of vans. The girls enjoyed the excitement of it all. I did too and was grateful for the very slow drive down these ten blocks of color and noise.

Then we went to Whole Foods. Mostly I wanted to pee and couldn't make it all the way home. But I also wanted to see if I could function in the noise and crowds outside of my car.

I woke up feeling remarkably normal this morning. Took the dogs to meet their new vet and remembered my driver's license number when asked. Maybe all I needed was a day off and some Basil gelato. Maybe the worst has passed as this is my 6th day. Might go get more gelato tomorrow at noon to celebrate the week being wrapped. I owe Jack and Frankie a treat for putting up with me...

6:30-7:30 am is...

the hardest hour of the day because we all have to be so responsible then. Jack and I both realize this hurdle today. My performance during this hour makes or breaks my day. If I lose my temper I feel like shit all day. Without a cigarette the only way to manage is to slink out of the house and leave them to their own devices and let things fall wherever...

To be fair - Jack does most of the work during this hour - he makes the lunches though I always check for utensils. He feeds the dogs though I make sure the dog door is actually open because it's been left shut at times. He takes out the garbage and the recycling though I try to make sure a new bag gets put in the can. I follow behind and do the invisible stuff - I'm the checker and order barker - I hate this job but I seem to be stuck with it.

Do the dogs have water, is the stove turned off, did Frankie brush her teeth and her hair, are they wearing weather appropriate clothing, is the cello going to school today, is the electric guitar going to school, are cell phones recharged and in the right pockets - are we coordinated with one another on who is driving where and when...

I really hope none of this matters in another week when I may feel human again. But maybe just the fact that I am thinking about it right now is enough to help me shift a few things.

This morning I thought - well it's time to set a few goals and make a plan to achieve them.

A Slight Shift

Some of the anger is fading.

I've also noticed I'm not craving a cigarette ALL THE TIME. At first I'd be startled by little realizations. While eating dinner I might think how great that cigarette will be afterwards. Then wham - it hits me that I'm not getting one. I sink. Having slightly fewer of these now.

Bummed One

Walking across the parking lot I spot a guy carrying a pack of American Spirits and stop him dead in his tracks announcing, "I quit. Can I have one?" He laughs and hands me a cigarette. He is kind enough to talk with me while I light the cigarette and take one puff realizing that it is not having the expected effect. I am not enjoying it. His name is Patrick, he's a writer and like me, has quit before - will quit again. He validates the feeling I have of hating everyone right now. My part of the conversation is not linear and I am ashamed of this. I wish I could hide somewhere and wrestle with myself. Patrick and I talk about quitting and how like heroin this addiction is and he tells me a story about a friend who quit the needle and smoking at the same time. At the one year mark his friend put the needle back into his arm but said later he could do this but never have another cigarette. That he couldn't quit.