BE HAPPY, BE WET

A friend whom I and a few others remember banging his head on the floor and rolling from side to side during a meeting of our local organization -- because an invited 'new prospect' had such wonderful ideas which she would not stop explaining to us at very inordinate length -- became a rabbi a number of years back, married the girl of his dreams, and, this past week, became a brand spanking new father. The afternoon he became fed up at the 'new prospect' was not captured on video. Cell-phones weren't as advanced then. A very great pity.
But that's okay. We'll tell the kid all about that episode.

The kid will do all right. His father is a terrific scholar, as is his grandfather, as well as many of his kinfolk, males and females. It's a family of literate people. Not all of them express their howling frustration with idiots quite so ..... 'evocatively', however.

My friend and his father both smoke pipes.
So this will prove quite interesting.

English/Balkan blends?
Or Virginias?


After hearing the good news I headed out into the rain for the last pipe of the evening.

I had loaded a pipe with HH Rustica, but just in time I remembered that last Sunday I had a full bowl of that at work, and was by no stretch of the imagination sane the rest of the day. It's got a higher nicotine dosage than other tobaccos, and consequently can do weird things to the mind. So instead it was red Virginia flake in a different pipe. I'll save the bowl of Rustica for Monday morning, after my house mate has left for the day and I can smoke inside. Pacing myself, and controlling my intake. It seems like a good thing to do on a rainy morning.

At the intersection, a person with bare legs holding an orange tarpaulin over her head dashed by, possibly regretting her clothing choices for an evening on the town during rainy weather.
I was in a good position not to regret her choices. Though I do think her choices, in many matters not just Saturday evening habiliments, may have been somewhat iffy.

No, I do not know if she was wearing a mask.
I sure hope so.

She could've caught her death of pneumonia out there.
It had been raining heavily for several hours.
My feet felt like crap when I returned.
But I was in a happy mood.


As you can tell, I do not need an overload of nicotine to be off-kilter myself.
Going out into a downpour is not, strictly speaking, sane.
Even with the right clothes and an umbrella.
Totally worth it, though.

TOBACCO INDEX


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