It' inevitable we will have deeply emotional memories after we quit smoking.
I was thinking of Christmas just now. More about how it was never going to be the same again. It was a melancholy realization.
My mom had 9 brothers and sisters and my dad 7.
Before we moved to the house my dad built when I was 11, we lived in a smaller house so we used to have two Christmas Eve get togethers. One for my dad's side early and then, one for my mom's side of the family.
After we moved my dads family started having theirs at one my cousins house but they had dogs that my mom was extremely allergic to, so, we had to stop going there. After we moved it was either at our house or my aunt's house.
We regularly had over 100 people at the latter. People would drop in for a couple hours so everything was fluid. Everyone brought a favorite dish, sweet or savory and there was always a huge punch bowl with ginger ale and orange sherbet that was constantly being added to. It was our once a year for everyone get together.
We had 40 Richfield (service station) Christmas carol books. We'd pass them out and I would play guitar or bass and my twin and younger brother would play guitar and piano. We'd go through every carol in the book and end the music by my singing O Holy Night for my mom.
She left us in 1999. Somewhere, I believe have a video of her doing a dance with one of her brothers her last Christmas. She knew it was her last and wanted that to be a special memory of her.
Her doctor had told her she had 10 years to live just 9 years earlier after she contracted a heart virus on a trip to Europe that had specifically attacked and damaged her heart. She first told us this in August of 1998, 9 months before she left.
Sadness does not require smoking. Happiness does not require smoking.
Life is both and we can live through both without smoking.
Merry Christmas, smoke free, in August.
I found the video of my mom dancing with her brother Byron.
Since I can't post a video to this blog I'm posting it in the following link.
Beginning when we were young, we used to go to camping in Yosemite for two weeks every summer.. One of the favorite things to do there besides seeing Half Dome, El Capitan, Yosemite Falls and the other natural wonders.
Some of the most fun was swimming in the river but there were risks.
Nature can create hidden dangers in the form of a deep holes where the river picks up speed and can suck you downward in a strong vortex.
This happened to me when I was about 8 and if my dad had not been watching me, I would have drowned.
My dad saved me from drowning but, I had to save myself when it came to smoking.
You have the power to save yourself by making an informed decision (the informer is you) and being willing to let time distance you from the ritual and addiction of smoking.
I gave it to him the first day (two different syringes) I was holding him down. while I tried to hurriedly inject it into his cheek. He spit most of it out and was foaming at the mouth.
I gave up for a couple of days.
I was frustrated and cursing the fact there might have been a one time injectable that would have saved me from this task twice a day for two weeks.
Yesterday I tried sitting on my legs with him in between but he just worked his way out the back.
What I didn't count on was our trust in each other.
This morning (after I cussed at him for not taking his medicine) I had the two syringes ready) I picked him up in my arms like you would normally carry a cat while you're walking across room and he was facing my chest and with the hand of the arm I was supporting him with, I grabbed the scruff of his neck gently and was able to inject both of them with my other hand without a fight or being clawed to shreds. (I was only wearing a T-Shirt and I don't cut his claws because he goes outside every morning.)
Third option worked. First two didn't.
This is what you have to do when you quit smoking, find the right option.
Thing's don't always go the way we think or turn out as we expected.
This is why we must be adaptable.
You must often look beyond what you expected to see the end goal.
I did a huge remodel in Brentwood. As I recall, we added 2600 feet and a three car garage. (This was the job I severed my foot on.)
There was one location in the middle of the house the weight of all the roofs converged. This weight was to be distributed by a post line from the roof to a new concrete pad 18 inches deep, and 3 feet square below the floor.
When we got to forming this pad, we discovered the ground was not solid. We contacted the engineer and he said we had to go down until we hit solid ground.
The area beneath the proposed pad grew to 4 feet square and 10 feet deep. We had two guys at the bottom with camp shovels digging and filling 5 gallon buckets and workers up top raising the buckets on ropes. As the hole grew deeper, safety rules required we shore the earthen walls with plywood and bracing.
After we reached solid ground, (10 feet below grade,) a huge custom rebar cage had to be fabricated and the hole required an entire concrete truck to fill.
You may not run into such a massive problem when you quit
I've been meaning to do it for a week even though I only do it twice a year.
Well, it rained lightly this morning and I thought since the "dirt lift" had begun and mud was already being manufactured, I'd get it done. It was still cool out a 7am.
I put other things off too.
Like vaccuming. :-)
Like my bar b que cart. I would have built it in two days if I was getting paid but, I'm in no hurry becauseI want the thing to be well thought out and a piece of art. Figuring out all the details of how it's going to work takes thought.