ABSOLUTELY A THING OF BEAUTY

In discussion with the bookseller yesterday evening, I mentioned that I owned over a dozen Comoy Blue Ribands. The last time those were produced there were only a handful released world-wide, and they were considered rare. Company promo literature stated that less than one in a thousand blocks of briar was suitable for a Blue Riband pipe. Three of them came from my father (I had lusted after them since my teens, he gave them to me in his last year, they never leave the house, because I don't trust people and the outside world that much). Some of them I got via Drucquers, some via Marty Pulvers when he still ran his shop.
One of them is mine only temporarily, and has never been smoked.

I have promised it either to my girlfriend if I end up with a sensible woman who smokes a pipe and likes decent tobacco especially when she's made herself comfortable with a good book and a cup of tea, or to my firstborn when he or she graduates with honours from University. They'll be the first to smoke it, and break it in.

PLEASE NOTE THAT BOTH OF THOSE PEOPLE ARE ENTIRELY IMAGINARY AT THIS POINT; I HAVE NOT BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP FOR SEVERAL YEARS, AND HAVE DECIDED THAT AS A NON-TATTOOED SNOOTY DISLIKER OF LORD OF THE RINGS AND A CRUSTY DUTCH AMERICAN BESIDES THE CHANCES JUST AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH TO VENTURE ONTO THIN ICE.

And there are no children.

Furthermore, Dutch American women with a thing for Cantonese and Indonesian foods and languages, OR Cantonese American women with a thing for the Dutch are more than a little bit rare. The majority of Dutch American women have either religious relatives or outright Nazis in the family woodpile in any case, and too many Cantonese American women either have a shoe or handbag fetish, or a very Anglo attitude. And women of all backgrounds have dietary insanities like no gluten no meat no spices no icecream or cake no properly cooked food and no food fun unless it's in the approved of manner plus apple cider vinegar turmeric strange fruits from spiritual people in the Amazon and miracle honey. These conflict, you will understand, with my weird dietary habits, and make eating together virtually impossible.

That Comoy Blue Riband will never be smoked. Along with a few other lovely pipes set aside. San Francisco is a jungle. The rest of the country is a wasteland.

[Women I know socially here are all lesbians, or religiously observant, or transgender. Or coworkers. Or my ex. Or in stable relationships so off limits entirely, and possibly all of the above. So decidedly 'no'. Yeah, um.]


Anyhow, I shall be heading out soon to have lunch by myself. Something not healthy, and the nutritionist at the hospital would absolutely disapprove. There will be chilisauce on top of that. Then I'll light up a pipe (probably a Dunhill shellbriar filled with a Virginia blend), an action of which my previous regular care physician and almost all the ladies I know would disapprove, and go food shopping. Rice noodles, throat lozenges, a new hotsauce or sambal, cookies, and fresh vegetables. Might have a cup of milktea and a snackipoo afterwards, as a preamble to smoking another pipe (see aforementioned disapproval).


Is there such a thing as Hello Kitty Hotsauce?


When I get home I'll spend the rest of the evening reading Wikipedia, on-line dictionaries, recipes, and odd bits of history, while my apartment mate watches Father Brown (a British mystery series) or zit-popping videos. Tea may be involved. Also, in her case, a bag of cheesy chips. I do not want to hear about what's going on at her office.
But I'll be patient and listen. She works with dingos.



Might wander around the neighborhood with a pipe later before going to bed.



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