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Why are you still smoking cigarettes?
That was the Subject line from an email from Wired magazine. I was tempted to snarkily reply, "Because you still have cigarette ads in your magazine." But since (a) I have never smoked and (b) I was sure there was no Sarcastic Reply button on the email, it'd do no good.
But after I trashed the email and thought about snarking about it on Facebook, I decided to go the email trash bin and read the email. Turns out it was for some e-cigarette device. Wonderful.
Gives you the warm fuzzies, doesn't it?
So I decided to blog about it instead.
Back In The Day
I grew up with a father who smoked. Cigarettes, at first, then a pipe. Over the years he tried different things. He was not above smoking "pretty" cigarettes marketed for women, if they were, in fact, lower in various toxic values. And frankly, he was right in the sense that pipe smoking slowed his smoking down -- it takes time to work a pipe properly and keep it clean. Alas, he cheated with cigarettes a lot.
In later years he'd smoke outside. He'd smoke his pipe in his workshop, which was a standalone building we had built shortly after we moved to Greensboro.
I remember the ashtrays around the house as a kid. I remember the smells of smoking. Today, I can barely tolerate any of that, even though we've banished smoking from the workplace, the restaurants, the movie theatres and within so-many-feet of the entrances to buildings.
Fast Forward To 2012
I'm always surprised when I see volumes of smoke coming out of a car window ahead of me at a light -- I always think "fire" not "smoking" at first. And since I usually drive with a window opened at least partway, I am stunned at being able to smell cigarette smoke from one or two car lengths away -- and feel my allergies cut in. The other month, while loading up my rolling cart to bring my things to the office, a tall slender young woman walked past. I'd not really have noticed her, except that (a) I got hit with the wavefront of cigarette smoke and (b) closely followed by a very strong hit with the wavefront of perfume, and I looked up. What struck me was that just for a moment, it was actually a rather pleasant combination. Huh. Then the allergies cut in again and the "magic" was lost.
My mid-50s self would never be able to tolerate the 1960s. Just a thought.
Dr. Phil
That was the Subject line from an email from Wired magazine. I was tempted to snarkily reply, "Because you still have cigarette ads in your magazine." But since (a) I have never smoked and (b) I was sure there was no Sarcastic Reply button on the email, it'd do no good.
But after I trashed the email and thought about snarking about it on Facebook, I decided to go the email trash bin and read the email. Turns out it was for some e-cigarette device. Wonderful.
Gives you the warm fuzzies, doesn't it?
So I decided to blog about it instead.
Back In The Day
I grew up with a father who smoked. Cigarettes, at first, then a pipe. Over the years he tried different things. He was not above smoking "pretty" cigarettes marketed for women, if they were, in fact, lower in various toxic values. And frankly, he was right in the sense that pipe smoking slowed his smoking down -- it takes time to work a pipe properly and keep it clean. Alas, he cheated with cigarettes a lot.
In later years he'd smoke outside. He'd smoke his pipe in his workshop, which was a standalone building we had built shortly after we moved to Greensboro.
I remember the ashtrays around the house as a kid. I remember the smells of smoking. Today, I can barely tolerate any of that, even though we've banished smoking from the workplace, the restaurants, the movie theatres and within so-many-feet of the entrances to buildings.
Fast Forward To 2012
I'm always surprised when I see volumes of smoke coming out of a car window ahead of me at a light -- I always think "fire" not "smoking" at first. And since I usually drive with a window opened at least partway, I am stunned at being able to smell cigarette smoke from one or two car lengths away -- and feel my allergies cut in. The other month, while loading up my rolling cart to bring my things to the office, a tall slender young woman walked past. I'd not really have noticed her, except that (a) I got hit with the wavefront of cigarette smoke and (b) closely followed by a very strong hit with the wavefront of perfume, and I looked up. What struck me was that just for a moment, it was actually a rather pleasant combination. Huh. Then the allergies cut in again and the "magic" was lost.
My mid-50s self would never be able to tolerate the 1960s. Just a thought.
Dr. Phil
