Some times we make bad choices. We're busted at a casino so transfer money from savings or pawn our grandpappy's watch. We meet a bar whore with scabs all over her mouth and we still take her home. We stop by for ONE beer and four beers later were trying to figure out how to get home.
today I made a bad choice and I will leave it up to you to decide which of the three choices most accurately reflects my situation.
What I can tell you for sure is that I am drunk. God am I drunk.
I stopped by a B&M right next store before I started drinking. It's not my favorite B&M but it's close so I go in. The proprietor is in her sixties and BIG. I have no idea why that is relevant but it is. She is also kind and if I flirt a little she will let light up on her back porch even though it is illegal. So I flirt...
[insert sloppy transition here]
We all have our "work horse" cigar. Right? Mine is the DR Partagas. Of course I love the Cameroon wrapper but it is just a damn nice smoke. I think there is something special about a company's flagship smoke. Here is not the time to experiment but to provide consistency. I live tatuaje and viaje but they will never be a Partagas or an Arturo Fuente. And that's not a bad thing.
I know, that no matter what life throws at me I will always get a good beer at my favorite brewery and I know I will always enjoy a Partagas.
I'm a week away from getting married and I am damn glad I know what I want (besides a ride home).
This post is a day late and it's my fault. I spent yesterday doing wedding related stuff which, besides work, getting the house ready for the soon to be in-laws, and planning the honeymoon, that's about all I've been doing the last few days. In fact when I was sitting in my favorite bar Friday night I spent most of the time writing a proposal for work on my phone. My sweet has been the same.
One of my better traits, I think, is my ability to focus. Thus, the proposal I was writing in the bar Friday night amidst "the sounds of drunken screams echoing in the night" I was able to write an important part of a proposal that when done will likely be funded at. $1,000,0000. And this is chump change in my line of work.
This level of focus, while good for my career, makes it hard sometimes to be a good father when I'm in "the zone." A case in point: last night as I was getting ready to start writing this post my son came up to me and asked if I thought I might have time to watch a tv show with him. I realized that while we had been in the same house all day I hadn't said more than a couple of words to him. I had been too damn focused on what I was doing and had neglecting the really important things: my family. "I'll do one better," I said. "Grab your jacket--we're going to the movies." So, last night my son and I went to see Gaurdians of the Galaxy, getting back a little after midnight. My sweet was still up when we got home and as I crawled into bed she whispered, "good choice." Good choice, indeed.
Day 24: LFD Cameroon Chisel thanks to BigShizza
Heroes
I'm a hero. Really I am. I've saved lives. Plenty of them. If I was a doctor or a medic like Rain, this wouldn't be hard to believe. In fact it might even be boring. But, hey, I sit at a desk all day and write and caculate. I'm known for my MANCOVAs and Chi Square tests not my heroic deeds. Yet I've saved lives.
Back when I was married before, my family and I were vacationing out at the Redwood National Forest. We were playing at the beach when I saw this young man screwing around on the rocks pretty far out into the water. I turned to my ex and said, "That dumb ass is going to fall and crack his head on those rocks." We watched him for a while longer then started talking about other things. Next time I looked up he wasn't there. "***," I thought, "the dumb ass DID fall and crack his head."
"Maybe you ought to check on him," said my ex.
"Perhaps I should," I thought as I slowly got up from the sand hoping that before I made it all the way up I'd see some proof of life. No such luck.
By the time I was standing up I heard the screams and I took off running. Sure enough, dumb ass had slipped on the rocks, cracked his head, and fell into the water. He was conscious but unable to swim so the tide kept slapping him against the rocks. One of my many jobs, though I'm not sure it made the previous list, was lifeguard and in lifeguard school they taught you to never go into the water unless you have no choice. I had no choice so clothes and all I went in, pulled him off the rocks and swam him to shore. Once on shore his dad helped me carry him to their car, strip him of his wet clothes, wrap him in a sleeping bag, dress his wounds aand get him to a hospital. See? I'm a hero.
Why am I telling you this? For thanks and praise? Well...actually...
Today I went out foraging for mushrooms with a couple of friends. In the process the mother who was watching the two kids managed to get a little lost and I manged to find them. One of the young boys said "you're a hero!" And "you saved the day!" "I"m not a hero," I said. "A hero," I explained "isn't just someone doing the right thing. That's just what everyone should be doing. A hero is one that shows great courage even when they have every reason to be afraid."
Day 25. Davidoff Nicaragua thanks to Chuck N.
Birthday Boy
According to the Internet I have been alive for 17,659 days. Of these 48 have been birthdays. Interestingly, if we tracked years by lunar years I'd be almost 50. But that's a different story. Like most people, I suppose, I don't remember a lot of my birthdays. Not even all of the capstone ones. I remember my 13th birthday but not my 16th or 18th. I remember well my 21st birthday because a bunch of friends took me to a strip club where I drank way too much whiskey and had way to may complimentary lap dances from the kind of strippers that make their living right off a military base.
I remember don't remember turning 30 but I'll never forget turning 40. My grandmother had a stroke the day before my 40th birthday so I spent my birthday in the hospital with her. She died two days later. I still miss her all the time and especially on my birthday because that was the last time I saw her alive.
When I was growing up birthdays were never a really big deal which is, I guess, why I don't have a lot of memories about them. And of because of that, when my kids were born I really wanted to go over the top with my kids' birthdays. Even in the midst of the divorce, when I was broke as hell, I tried to give them each amazing--an memorable--birthdays. It's also why, with five days left until the wedding I spent a considerable amount of time planning a Nancy Drew Birthday party for my soon to be step daughter's 8th birthday the weekend we come back from the honeymoon.
Don't get me wrong, I've had good birthdays, and this isn't a compliant at all. But most of my birthdays, with a few happy exceptions, have been routine. But that is all about to change. When I was 47 I started planning my 50th birthday party. Here is the plan:
Step One: Book a suite at the Disneyland Hotel:
Step Two: Fly all my kids to Anaheim.
Step Three: Get one of those big buttons that says "Birthday Boy" and wear it all the hell all over that park. Step Four: Get my picture taken with as many of the Princesses as possible.
Day 26: La Palina "Mr. Sam" Thanks to OneStrangeOne
Pessimism
I'm a pessimist. It's not something I'm neccesarily proud of but I'm old enough now that I've come it accept it. For example, I was playing an slot machine game on Facebook and I'd bet $150 of fake money on each spin. Most people, or at least optimists, would generally say things like, "Wow! I won $100 on that spin" where as I would say, "Hey, I only lost $50 fake dollars on that spin."
It's hard to be a pessimist where you are surrounded by optimists. I have a colleague that is always so...so...cheerful. If it's pouring down rain she'll say something like, "Oh I love the sound of the rain!" Or, "the plants really need the good rain!" If she were the exception I think I'd be okay, but I am surrounded by happy, optimistic people at work. In part I suppose this is because they do amazing work every day and get to see the results of that work. Me, on the other hand, has the unenviable job of going about my day trying to find the bad news--the kinks in our armor, as it were. In otherwords, I spend my day trying to find out just how bad things are for children, youth, and families in my region. Turns out, they are pretty bad -- at least from my pessimistic eyes. My more optimistc colleagues disagree with me and point to all the good things that are happening. By I'm a pessimist and I'll have none of it, damn it!
When I was writing about birthdays yesterday I got to thinking about whether part of the reasons I don't remember most of my birthdays is because I tend to focus not on what goes right but what goes wrong. I'm just wired that way. Maybe, by most peoples' standard, I had amazing birthdays but I've reframed the experiences negatively. (I want a fire truck on my cake not a police car; I wanted to Star Wars Legos not the plain ones; etc). If that's true I probably owe my mom an apology.
The question remains, though can I, a pessimist extraordinaire, change my outlook and become an optimist? I'm not sure but I am going to try a little experiment tomorrow. As I go about my day I am going to try to find the positive in everything that happens. If I can manage it, my reward will be a cc: if I can't., them my punishment will be a cc. (See what I did there? If I'd picked a dog rocket as my punishemt then I would have doomed myself since the idea of a "dog rocket" has no place in an optimists vocabulary).
For those of you who were paying attention, I lasted just about five minutes.
Since I announced my engagement I've been asked well over 100 times if I am "nervous." And there seems to be a negative correlation between the number of days until the big day and the number of times I am asked. I've never understood this question though I confess to asking others the same thing.
I suppose in some cases people are just being polite; just making conversation. Perhaps they don't really give a damn if I am nervous or not. But what if they do?
"This ain't my first rodeo" I think the saying goes. I wasn't nervous then, I'm not now, and I don't think I will be on Saturday. I'm actually a little excited but I also might just be feeling some anticipation for the day to be over. Or maybe it's gas.
I would like to say I'm just not the nervous type, but that would be a lie. I'm nervous a lot and also a little paranoid. Being nervous, by the way, is not a sign of weakness actually, I contend, it's a sign of sign of heightened awareness. If you're not nervous you must be clueless--so unaware that you don't even realize you ought to be nervous.
Now here is where I have backed myself into a little corner. If my previous claim is true then is the reason I'm not nervous about the wedding that I'm clueless? Perhaps, but there is another reason why people are not nervous besides being clueless--specifically, that love (or perhaps lust) is just a little bit stronger today than fear. Fear, I suggest, controls about 90% of our actions: love and lust the rest.
i wasnt nervous about getting married one bit. i was slightly nervous about the wedding. its a big party. I wanted everything to be right. it wasnt. but every wedding has its issues. SOMETHING will go wrong. just remember to let it go and relax. your still with the person you love. thats all you really need.
Eric I've loved reading this thread and your musings! I know the original point was thirty sticks thirty days but I hope you continue this in some fashion at least after your married too brother, congrats and thanks for sharing such fun and amazing stories.
If I have one wish for all my fellow BOTLs and SOTLs it is that each of you has a place where you can retreat inward and find moments of peace. I suspect that for many of you that place is wherever you smoke. My place is in my kitchen. I love to cook. A lot. Of course 99%of the time my cooking is routine, even pedestrian. Pasta and a salad for dinner, maybe some grilled salmon, a steak. You get the idea. I'm not talking about these times but rather those times where me make something different, maybe even a little spectacular, Today was one of those days
I had a very very long day. I was up at seven and now at 11:30 I'm just getting to bed. With two days until the wedding most everything is done except for a few details so I spent the day taking care of myself: a little last minute shopping for the honeymoon, a haircut, a manicure, and pedicure (don't judge me) some time with my sun, and home to cook dinner.
Tonight I cooked a mole with home made tortillas. A mole is considered a celebration dish in most parts of Mexico because it is takes some time to put together. For example, my mole has about 25 different ingredients include three different chilies and strart to finish takes about two and half hours. When I am roasting chilis, onions, and tomatoes, chopping chocolate, toasting sesame seeds, I find myself slipping into a zen-like state. Everything outside of what I am doing slips away into a sort of grayness mi know it's there but I don't care. Or more precisely I don't care to be aware of it. Likewise with making the tortillas: mixing, kneeding, pressing, frying.
The nice thing about cooking is that I while I get my enjoyment during the preparation I get another boost when people eat it. In fact, my father-in-law-to-be, a person of mexican heritage, said it was the best mole he'd ever eaten.
Thanks to a very generous wedding gift from BigShizza and his wife, my sweet and I are going to take a cooking class whe we are in Mexico. We can't wait.
Bonus factoid: I collect cookbooks and currently have about 300.
Almost a month ago I started this thread to chronicle the thirty days leading up to my marriage. For those that have read all or part of this, my sincere thanks. I promised to be vulnerable, honest, and personal, knowing full well that sometimes that can come off sounding a little self-congratulatory. If that has been the case you can take comfort in the fact that this will be my last full post. Sure, I will post a cigar picture tomorrow but most likely without many words – after 30 days my words have been pretty much used up.
Now, with less than 24 hours to go before the big day I will be more vulnerable, more honest, and more personal. My sweet and I wrote our own vows and today I am sharing mine.
"I love you, Julie
I don’t say that arbitrarily or capriciously. I don’t say it out of obligation or anticipation of reciprocity.
I love you.
Love is the first big idea that brought us together. Poets and romantics have been trying to describe and even define love for thousands of years. I think the poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning said it best when she asked, “How do I love thee?” In her question she confirmed something my grandmother taught me years ago: that love isn’t just a state we’re in—as in the state of twiterpatation—but love is a verb, it’s an action, it’s a thing that we do.
And I love you, Julie, with all my being.
The act of marriage is the second big idea that brought us here. We just finished making promises to one another. We promised to “honor in true devotion,” to “rejoice” with one another, to be “faithful” and to “love” one another. While these promises are a necessary part of our commitment they are not sufficient.
Marriage should not be built on promises alone; marriage should be the promises already fulfilled.
Thus, while I can promise to honor you, I already honor you. While I can promise to rejoice with you, I already rejoice in you. And while I can promise to love you, I already love you.
When asked what love meant, the greatest poet of all times, Dr. Seuss said this: “You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” We’ve had a lot of dreams, you and I, and I hope we continue to dream together, but today my reality is so much more than anything I could ever hope to dream. "
This has been an amazing journey, thank you for sharing it with all of us. At this point, it seems only logical, there is only one thing I have left to say. Congratulations and I wish you and your bride all the happiness in the world. Tomorrow will be hectic and if there is one thing I wish I did more of during my wedding, it is to try and take a moment for yourselves.
Let's just say it was a great ceremony, great food, good weather and wonderful people!! Julie's dad walking her down the aisle And Eric and I having a celebration smoke with many others!
Comments
Bad choices
Some times we make bad choices. We're busted at a casino so transfer money from savings or pawn our grandpappy's watch. We meet a bar whore with scabs all over her mouth and we still take her home. We stop by for ONE beer and four beers later were trying to figure out how to get home.
today I made a bad choice and I will leave it up to you to decide which of the three choices most accurately reflects my situation.
What I can tell you for sure is that I am drunk. God am I drunk.
I stopped by a B&M right next store before I started drinking. It's not my favorite B&M but it's close so I go in. The proprietor is in her sixties and BIG. I have no idea why that is relevant but it is. She is also kind and if I flirt a little she will let light up on her back porch even though it is illegal. So I flirt...
[insert sloppy transition here]
We all have our "work horse" cigar. Right? Mine is the DR Partagas. Of course I love the Cameroon wrapper but it is just a damn nice smoke. I think there is something special about a company's flagship smoke. Here is not the time to experiment but to provide consistency. I live tatuaje and viaje but they will never be a Partagas or an Arturo Fuente. And that's not a bad thing.
I know, that no matter what life throws at me I will always get a good beer at my favorite brewery and I know I will always enjoy a Partagas.
I'm a week away from getting married and I am damn glad I know what I want (besides a ride home).
Here is what I smoked:
Good Choices
This post is a day late and it's my fault. I spent yesterday doing wedding related stuff which, besides work, getting the house ready for the soon to be in-laws, and planning the honeymoon, that's about all I've been doing the last few days. In fact when I was sitting in my favorite bar Friday night I spent most of the time writing a proposal for work on my phone. My sweet has been the same.
One of my better traits, I think, is my ability to focus. Thus, the proposal I was writing in the bar Friday night amidst "the sounds of drunken screams echoing in the night" I was able to write an important part of a proposal that when done will likely be funded at. $1,000,0000. And this is chump change in my line of work.
This level of focus, while good for my career, makes it hard sometimes to be a good father when I'm in "the zone." A case in point: last night as I was getting ready to start writing this post my son came up to me and asked if I thought I might have time to watch a tv show with him. I realized that while we had been in the same house all day I hadn't said more than a couple of words to him. I had been too damn focused on what I was doing and had neglecting the really important things: my family. "I'll do one better," I said. "Grab your jacket--we're going to the movies." So, last night my son and I went to see Gaurdians of the Galaxy, getting back a little after midnight. My sweet was still up when we got home and as I crawled into bed she whispered, "good choice." Good choice, indeed.
here is what I smoked:
Heroes
I'm a hero. Really I am. I've saved lives. Plenty of them. If I was a doctor or a medic like Rain, this wouldn't be hard to believe. In fact it might even be boring. But, hey, I sit at a desk all day and write and caculate. I'm known for my MANCOVAs and Chi Square tests not my heroic deeds. Yet I've saved lives.
Back when I was married before, my family and I were vacationing out at the Redwood National Forest. We were playing at the beach when I saw this young man screwing around on the rocks pretty far out into the water. I turned to my ex and said, "That dumb ass is going to fall and crack his head on those rocks." We watched him for a while longer then started talking about other things. Next time I looked up he wasn't there. "***," I thought, "the dumb ass DID fall and crack his head."
"Maybe you ought to check on him," said my ex.
"Perhaps I should," I thought as I slowly got up from the sand hoping that before I made it all the way up I'd see some proof of life. No such luck.
By the time I was standing up I heard the screams and I took off running. Sure enough, dumb ass had slipped on the rocks, cracked his head, and fell into the water. He was conscious but unable to swim so the tide kept slapping him against the rocks. One of my many jobs, though I'm not sure it made the previous list, was lifeguard and in lifeguard school they taught you to never go into the water unless you have no choice. I had no choice so clothes and all I went in, pulled him off the rocks and swam him to shore. Once on shore his dad helped me carry him to their car, strip him of his wet clothes, wrap him in a sleeping bag, dress his wounds aand get him to a hospital. See? I'm a hero.
Why am I telling you this? For thanks and praise? Well...actually...
Today I went out foraging for mushrooms with a couple of friends. In the process the mother who was watching the two kids managed to get a little lost and I manged to find them. One of the young boys said "you're a hero!" And "you saved the day!" "I"m not a hero," I said. "A hero," I explained "isn't just someone doing the right thing. That's just what everyone should be doing. A hero is one that shows great courage even when they have every reason to be afraid."
But yea, I was a fucking hero..."
Birthday Boy
According to the Internet I have been alive for 17,659 days. Of these 48 have been birthdays. Interestingly, if we tracked years by lunar years I'd be almost 50. But that's a different story. Like most people, I suppose, I don't remember a lot of my birthdays. Not even all of the capstone ones. I remember my 13th birthday but not my 16th or 18th. I remember well my 21st birthday because a bunch of friends took me to a strip club where I drank way too much whiskey and had way to may complimentary lap dances from the kind of strippers that make their living right off a military base.
I remember don't remember turning 30 but I'll never forget turning 40. My grandmother had a stroke the day before my 40th birthday so I spent my birthday in the hospital with her. She died two days later. I still miss her all the time and especially on my birthday because that was the last time I saw her alive.
When I was growing up birthdays were never a really big deal which is, I guess, why I don't have a lot of memories about them. And of because of that, when my kids were born I really wanted to go over the top with my kids' birthdays. Even in the midst of the divorce, when I was broke as hell, I tried to give them each amazing--an memorable--birthdays. It's also why, with five days left until the wedding I spent a considerable amount of time planning a Nancy Drew Birthday party for my soon to be step daughter's 8th birthday the weekend we come back from the honeymoon.
Don't get me wrong, I've had good birthdays, and this isn't a compliant at all. But most of my birthdays, with a few happy exceptions, have been routine. But that is all about to change. When I was 47 I started planning my 50th birthday party. Here is the plan:
Step One: Book a suite at the Disneyland Hotel:
Step Two: Fly all my kids to Anaheim.
Step Three: Get one of those big buttons that says "Birthday Boy" and wear it all the hell all over that park.
Step Four: Get my picture taken with as many of the Princesses as possible.
You think I'm silly, don't you?
Here is what I smoked tonight:
Pessimism
I'm a pessimist. It's not something I'm neccesarily proud of but I'm old enough now that I've come it accept it. For example, I was playing an slot machine game on Facebook and I'd bet $150 of fake money on each spin. Most people, or at least optimists, would generally say things like, "Wow! I won $100 on that spin" where as I would say, "Hey, I only lost $50 fake dollars on that spin."
It's hard to be a pessimist where you are surrounded by optimists. I have a colleague that is always so...so...cheerful. If it's pouring down rain she'll say something like, "Oh I love the sound of the rain!" Or, "the plants really need the good rain!" If she were the exception I think I'd be okay, but I am surrounded by happy, optimistic people at work. In part I suppose this is because they do amazing work every day and get to see the results of that work. Me, on the other hand, has the unenviable job of going about my day trying to find the bad news--the kinks in our armor, as it were. In otherwords, I spend my day trying to find out just how bad things are for children, youth, and families in my region. Turns out, they are pretty bad -- at least from my pessimistic eyes. My more optimistc colleagues disagree with me and point to all the good things that are happening. By I'm a pessimist and I'll have none of it, damn it!
When I was writing about birthdays yesterday I got to thinking about whether part of the reasons I don't remember most of my birthdays is because I tend to focus not on what goes right but what goes wrong. I'm just wired that way. Maybe, by most peoples' standard, I had amazing birthdays but I've reframed the experiences negatively. (I want a fire truck on my cake not a police car; I wanted to Star Wars Legos not the plain ones; etc). If that's true I probably owe my mom an apology.
The question remains, though can I, a pessimist extraordinaire, change my outlook and become an optimist? I'm not sure but I am going to try a little experiment tomorrow. As I go about my day I am going to try to find the positive in everything that happens. If I can manage it, my reward will be a cc: if I can't., them my punishment will be a cc. (See what I did there? If I'd picked a dog rocket as my punishemt then I would have doomed myself since the idea of a "dog rocket" has no place in an optimists vocabulary).
Here is what I smoked tonight
you should start a review thread in the reviews section. it will be received well.
For those of you who were paying attention, I lasted just about five minutes.
Since I announced my engagement I've been asked well over 100 times if I am "nervous." And there seems to be a negative correlation between the number of days until the big day and the number of times I am asked. I've never understood this question though I confess to asking others the same thing.
I suppose in some cases people are just being polite; just making conversation. Perhaps they don't really give a damn if I am nervous or not. But what if they do?
"This ain't my first rodeo" I think the saying goes. I wasn't nervous then, I'm not now, and I don't think I will be on Saturday. I'm actually a little excited but I also might just be feeling some anticipation for the day to be over. Or maybe it's gas.
I would like to say I'm just not the nervous type, but that would be a lie. I'm nervous a lot and also a little paranoid. Being nervous, by the way, is not a sign of weakness actually, I contend, it's a sign of sign of heightened awareness. If you're not nervous you must be clueless--so unaware that you don't even realize you ought to be nervous.
Now here is where I have backed myself into a little corner. If my previous claim is true then is the reason I'm not nervous about the wedding that I'm clueless? Perhaps, but there is another reason why people are not nervous besides being clueless--specifically, that love (or perhaps lust) is just a little bit stronger today than fear. Fear, I suggest, controls about 90% of our actions: love and lust the rest.
Here is what I smoked tonight.
i was slightly nervous about the wedding.
its a big party. I wanted everything to be right.
it wasnt. but every wedding has its issues. SOMETHING will go wrong. just remember to let it go and relax. your still with the person you love. thats all you really need.
Zen moments
If I have one wish for all my fellow BOTLs and SOTLs it is that each of you has a place where you can retreat inward and find moments of peace. I suspect that for many of you that place is wherever you smoke. My place is in my kitchen. I love to cook. A lot. Of course 99%of the time my cooking is routine, even pedestrian. Pasta and a salad for dinner, maybe some grilled salmon, a steak. You get the idea. I'm not talking about these times but rather those times where me make something different, maybe even a little spectacular, Today was one of those days
I had a very very long day. I was up at seven and now at 11:30 I'm just getting to bed. With two days until the wedding most everything is done except for a few details so I spent the day taking care of myself: a little last minute shopping for the honeymoon, a haircut, a manicure, and pedicure (don't judge me) some time with my sun, and home to cook dinner.
Tonight I cooked a mole with home made tortillas. A mole is considered a celebration dish in most parts of Mexico because it is takes some time to put together. For example, my mole has about 25 different ingredients include three different chilies and strart to finish takes about two and half hours. When I am roasting chilis, onions, and tomatoes, chopping chocolate, toasting sesame seeds, I find myself slipping into a zen-like state. Everything outside of what I am doing slips away into a sort of grayness mi know it's there but I don't care. Or more precisely I don't care to be aware of it. Likewise with making the tortillas: mixing, kneeding, pressing, frying.
The nice thing about cooking is that I while I get my enjoyment during the preparation I get another boost when people eat it. In fact, my father-in-law-to-be, a person of mexican heritage, said it was the best mole he'd ever eaten.
Thanks to a very generous wedding gift from BigShizza and his wife, my sweet and I are going to take a cooking class whe we are in Mexico. We can't wait.
Bonus factoid: I collect cookbooks and currently have about 300.
Here is what I smoked tonight:
“Better together.”
Almost a month ago I started this thread to chronicle the thirty days leading up to my marriage. For those that have read all or part of this, my sincere thanks. I promised to be vulnerable, honest, and personal, knowing full well that sometimes that can come off sounding a little self-congratulatory. If that has been the case you can take comfort in the fact that this will be my last full post. Sure, I will post a cigar picture tomorrow but most likely without many words – after 30 days my words have been pretty much used up.
Now, with less than 24 hours to go before the big day I will be more vulnerable, more honest, and more personal. My sweet and I wrote our own vows and today I am sharing mine.
"I love you, Julie
I don’t say that arbitrarily or capriciously. I don’t say it out of obligation or anticipation of reciprocity.
I love you.
Love is the first big idea that brought us together. Poets and romantics have been trying to describe and even define love for thousands of years. I think the poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning said it best when she asked, “How do I love thee?” In her question she confirmed something my grandmother taught me years ago: that love isn’t just a state we’re in—as in the state of twiterpatation—but love is a verb, it’s an action, it’s a thing that we do.
And I love you, Julie, with all my being.
The act of marriage is the second big idea that brought us here. We just finished making promises to one another. We promised to “honor in true devotion,” to “rejoice” with one another, to be “faithful” and to “love” one another. While these promises are a necessary part of our commitment they are not sufficient.
Marriage should not be built on promises alone; marriage should be the promises already fulfilled.
Thus, while I can promise to honor you, I already honor you. While I can promise to rejoice with you, I already rejoice in you. And while I can promise to love you, I already love you.
When asked what love meant, the greatest poet of all times, Dr. Seuss said this: “You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” We’ve had a lot of dreams, you and I, and I hope we continue to dream together, but today my reality is so much more than anything I could ever hope to dream. "
Here is what I smoked today:
Pre-ceremony cigar.
I will "see" you all in a couple of weeks.
Julie's dad walking her down the aisle
And Eric and I having a celebration smoke with many others!
Partages y Havana House 7 anjo. La vida es buena!