Get Quit: No good at math

Today I received from Get Quit, the spiffy online-support system provided by Chantix, an email which congratulated me for having been with Get Quit for six whole months.

Let's see.

I signed up for Get Quit on August 1st.

I tried to quit smoking on August 8th.

I didn't actually quit until August 20th.

So... how, exactly, does January 25th qualify as a six-month anniversary of anything?

Well, I shouldn't split hairs. I mean, I did quit smoking, after all. And I still haven't smoked yet.

I dreamed that I smoked two nights ago. I'm going to Las Vegas on Monday to visit my beloved sister Amy. (She quit smoking using the nicotine patch because she is Iron Woman.) (*I* tried to quit smoking using the nicotine patch THREE TIMES. And I never got anywhere close to succeeding.)

Anyway, I dreamed that I was smoking, and when I realized I was smoking, I felt bad. I worried that if I smoked, would Amy pick it up, too? Augh!

Later on, I woke up and realized it was a dream. OH! That's something worth noting. I, personally, feel that my dreams are still quite vivid. I've not taken Chantix in a month, but the dreams... still feel vivid. Maybe I just got spoiled. I always loved the vivid dreams.

So I dreamed that I smoked, but I felt awfully guilty about it. And I didn't actually smoke just because I dreamed about it.

Tonight I was in Knoxville, and I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to pick up something for my dear husband. Wesley smokes cigars. He has never smoked a cigar in the house, but he does enjoy a good cigar and he has, in fact, belonged to a cigar club for... well, I think about 7 or 8 years now.

I'll be honest, I do not like the smell of cigars. I just don't. I never liked the smell of cigarettes, either, but I put up with the smell in order to get the nicotine. Anyway, Wesley smokes cigars.

He asked me to pick up a humidifier thingie for him from Leaf & Ale, a shop in Knoxville where you can get tobacco and home-brewing products. I happened to be in the neighborhood, so I stopped in.

And dang it, there were people smoking cigars in there.

I could hardly stand it. The stench and the smoke were just *thick* and choking and *awful*. I tried so hard to be polite and not gag or cough, but the whole time I was thinking, "Oh, please, let this be fast so I can get out of here and breathe some clean air."

I made it out. I didn't gag or cough, and I *hope* I didn't look too hysterically desperate to the guys in the shop. After all, I do still support people's right to smoke. Tobacco is still a legal substance. I would still be smoking... if it weren't so darned expensive, and if Chantix hadn't been such an effective helpmate in my effort to quit smoking.

Whenever my six-month anniversary really is, I hope I start feeling like a real non-smoker then. Part of me is concerned. I'm flying to Las Vegas. I'm landing at an airport. Every other time I've flown to Las Vegas to see my sister, I've gone outside to have a cigarette while waiting for our luggage to get to the luggage carousel. If I don't have something else to occupy my time... and my hands... what will I do?

I don't know. But I'm looking forward to finding out.

Here's the thing, dear Chantix readers: If you found this blog because you're starting to take Chantix, then read all the posts on this blog. But if you're reading because you became accustomed to my take on things, then you need to switch over. I'm going to be posting my trip report -- as usual -- at Bay's Travel Blog. It was my original, and my favorite. Bay's Travail Blog has served its purpose. Time to return to business as usual!

Smooches, y'all!

Chantix, the sequel

I had this fabulous idea today.

I'm hoping that some scientist already had this idea and is already working on the next version of Chantix.

What the world needs -- other than a pill that helps you to quit smoking -- is a pill to help some of us eat healthy.

I'm not saying "a diet pill," because that's not what I mean. I mean, wouldn't it be fabulous if there were a pill we could take that would re-wire our brains so that we didn't looooooooove chocolate and butter and cream and things with sugar in them? Wouldn't it be fabulous if our brains were programmed to think that raw carrots and celery were yummy treats? Wouldn't that make it so much easier to eat right and lower our cholesterol?

If they made a pill that could make me stop loving cigarettes... how far are "they" from making a pill that convinces me that potato chips are not the delicious crunchy delights that I think they are right now?

The thing is -- if they *do* invent a pill like that, I would like to be able to stop taking it now and then. Like, on my birthday. And on Independence Day. Because honestly, one should be able to have apricot nectar cake or big, sloppy chili dogs loaded with cheese *occasionally*. I mean, that's just fair.

Isn't it?

So scared!

So. My sister called me and told me to go see "I Am Legend."

In her defense, she knew I already was thinkin' about seeing it.

Against her, though, she knows I'm a total weenie when it comes to scary movies. I cannot tell you how many scary movies I've walked out on because I was too scared to keep watching. I walked out on M. Night Shyamalan's "Signs." Too frickin' scary. I had to wait until my husband watched it on DVD, and then he had to tell me EVERYTHING that happened in it, and even then, I kept pausing it and running away and crying before I could finish it.

I just realized... I am a huge weenie.

("The Exorcist"? I didn't see it until I was 12 years old. AND! That was the edited-for-prime-time-TV version. No cursing. Very, very clean. And I still slept with the lights on... through all of 7th grade.)

(Not kidding!!!!!)

So, OK, my dear stister tells me to go see "I Am Legend." I take my 19-year-old daughter and my 15-year-old son. We are seated in the second row, and there's a teenager three seats down from me who talked NONSTOP through the whole movie, even though her own friends were whispering, "Shhhhh," and "Hush now," at her.

I saw that movie on Wednesday.

It scared the wubba out of me.

I didn't walk out, but only because I didn't want to traumatize my own very delicate children.

So.

On the night that passed between Wednesday and Thursday morning?

I had nightmares every hour or so. I walked around the house, looking for zombies. I was very, very worried about the mutating zombies who would expose themselves to daylight. I tried to hide in closets. In my dreams.

I am ... *such* a huge wimp.

Darn it, my darlin' husband wants me to see "I Am Legend" with him on Saturday night.

Why can't we go see a romantic comedy???

At least, no matter how freaked out I got? I never did smoke a cigarette.

Next time, remind me to blog about how irritated I am with the lack of black markets. I paid $130 for my last box of Chantix, and I only used three-quarters of that box. Seems like a huge waste of moolah! On the other hand, I'm not spending $11 a day on cigarettes. So I guess it all evens out!