Yesterday was a bit rougher than I had hoped for in terms of accomplishment, although I still felt on track. I worked for a few hours in the morning, spent a few hours with my lovely wife at the museum in the afternoon, shopped for necessary household items, conducted my weekly ritual of cleaning of the cat boxes, read research articles, read the newspapers, and then ate dinner and relaxed.

Today I am off to a grand start in terms of my early rise (5:30) and have been working through items since roughly 6:00am. In one of my more quiet and philosophical moments this morning (as I waited for the department's coffee machine to brew my first cup of the day) I thought about how my beautiful briar pipes are true and literal friends, almost a furtive mistress for me. In numerous ways, my pipes have assisted me, satisfied me, nurtured me, and loved me. In many ways the embrace I have with my pipes is akin to making love to a mistress. I gently coax the lovely nicotinic nourishment from her bowl with the gentle kiss my lips have upon the stem. The hairs of my moustache and beard quietly surround the stem in affection as I gently, but firmly grip her stem between my teeth. Between each loving puff, I hold and massage her body - the bowl, in the palm of my hand, feeling her warmth permeate into my body. Even the leaf in her bowl fits the analogy I envision in my mind's eye. As I meld fire with leaf (the fire being energy, the leaf being our consumable self), gently coaxing the blessed and magical chimera to form as a glowing red ember of smoky nourishment, I feel as utterly spent and satisfied as if I had coaxed my own lovely wife through a lovely, passionate session of bedded bliss.

PipeTobacco