Still... quit.

I have so many thoughts.

I don't blog as often as I think of blogging. Is that a conse-
quence of being busy, or a conse-
quence of being in denial?

First of all -- Vivid Dreams:
I have had some really strange, really vivid dreams in the last couple of weeks. Dreams that I thought about writing out. Dreams that could be movies, they're so darned weird. But I didn't write them out, and I didn't go knock on my neighbor's door and get myself shot. OK, I'm lucky.

Vivid Dreams, Part II:
My children tell me I was sleepwalking one night last week. Did I already confess this? I picked up a towel and said "sleepy" several times.

Vivid Dreams, Part III:
I dreamt that I bought a pack of cigarettes, opened it, took one out, lit it, and smoked it, and THEN I thought, "Oh, no! I'm not supposed to be smoking! ... Oh, well, I guess I"ll finish this pack. Don't want to waste the money." Then I felt guilty when I woke up. That's how vivid these Chantix dreams can be. I *really* thought I smoked, for heaven's sake.

Celebrations:
I have not smoked in more than 8 weeks. To celebrate 8 weeks without cigarettes, I went to the dentist for the third time in as many weeks and cried over how much work needs to be done on my teeth.

Temptations:
Friday night, I attended the theatre. I would love to post a review of the play I saw, but no one would read it or believe me. I saw a production of "Major Barbara" by George Bernard Shaw at the Clarence Brown Theatre's Carousel Theater in Knoxville. I thought the hardest part would be intermission. I have always run outside to smoke during intermission. The hardest part was actually keeping myself in the tiny, tilted chair. It tilted forward so that you have to brace yourself against your legs to keep from sliding out of the chair. "Major Barbara" was produced unedited and uncensored, so it was more than 3 hours of Shaw rantings. And only a fraction of the actors could actually pull off those rants and raves, so I was gritting my teeth, digging in my toes, and trying *desperately* not to spill out of my chair for more than three hours. When the play ended and the audience finally stood up to run away screaming, a woman three chairs down from me collapsed into the aisle because her legs were exhausted from the exertion of keeping her in the chair for more than three hours. That has nothing to do with smoking or quitting smoking, but it bears commentary, because apparently Chantix quitters are not the only people doing weird things to get through a day.

Ahem. Also, I really *did* want to smoke during the intermission. But I didn't.

And Then, Part I:
Tennessee really has passed a "no smoking" law. I heard somewhere that someone is challenging the constitutionality of it, and I say, more power to 'em. However, after the play when we stopped at Waffle House for a very-late-night supper -- I was relieved not to be around smoking. I am always iffy on how I'm going to react if someone smokes near me. Right now, I think cigarette smoke smells *delicious*. I just want to inhale it like mad. But I don't want to smoke for myself.

Keeping Busy:
I made 16 scrapbook pages this week. I should sell them and make some moolah, because even though I'm not spending more than $10 a day on cigarettes, I'm absolutely poverty-stricken. My teeth are going to cost a small fortune to fix. At least playing with paper and stamps keeps my hands busy and keeps me from thinking about smoking.

And Then, Part II:
I keep wishing we would go back to Cades Cove to go hiking. It's so ridiculously warm, even here at the end of October, I can't believe it. What would Abrams Falls feel like now that it's really autumn? I wanna go swimming!