Three was an Eve brand, as I recall. I never tried it, but you may be right about the lemon.
I treasure the freedom of not needing or caring about them anymore.
Two things I still do--reach for my cig case and keys when I need to step outside for even a moment and, on walking into an unfamiliar place, immediately scope out the exits so I know where to step out for a smoke. Habits die hard.
Late to bed, since I was reading, and early to rise, since I was awake. H leaves for his solo trip to the beach tomorrow, and apparently although I've encouraged him to go, I'm miffed because he's too excited to bother to pretend he's going to miss me.
I will also be miffed when he calls me 32 times a day to report on his fun. Because he does miss me, you see, but he'd rather talk to me on the phone. Because if I was there, he wouldn't have to talk, now, would he?
Men. No wait, let me qualify. The man I'm married to. Don't want to make sweeping generalities.
JZ, my commiserations with Fussa difficulties yesterday never actually made it out my finger-ends and onto the screen, but I was making sympathy faces and wishing I could Mama-rock Matilda and walk her around the apartment, while shooing everybody outside for a while. She's going to be rather taken aback when I finally get to nibble her toes, and she's, oh, eight or nine years old. Dammit.
Plei, I backtracked through some of Lilybean's earlier photos for H's benefit last evening. He's smitten, which doesn't often happen for him, especially with girl children. His experience with them is limited. Still, smit.
Who isn't smitten with the bean? Everytime I see her, I want to snatch her up for toe nibbling, cheek pinching and other assorted coddling. She's an equal opportunity smitter. (Not smiter, which is reserved soley for Aimee.)
Hell, I'm smitten with the Bean and I have my own cutiehead kids to love on.
I will also be miffed when he calls me 32 times a day to report on his fun. Because he does miss me, you see, but he'd rather talk to me on the phone. Because if I was there, he wouldn't have to talk, now, would he?
Men, indeed. Or, you know, man.
I remember Eves, but I don't think I ever tried one.
all i can say about what beverly said , it well "what she said" . except Matt is not haveing fun, but I do here more from him on good days.
I'm back at work, and I just received flowers in sympathy. I also got two cards, one with everyone's signature and one from just my supervisor. It's really very, very kind of them, but now I feel bad because I'm not as upset by my MIL's death as the level of sympathy deserves.
Still, I'm glad I've got a raging head cold and can't smell the flowers. Cut flowers are lovely, but the scent screams "funeral" to me, which isn't something I want sitting on my desk all day.
but one of my friends smoked this brand that tasted vaguely of lemon.
Oh jesus, I remember when those came out. Like smoking Pledge.
My father used to embarrass me so much in high school because he smoked Virginia Slim 120s. This big, bearded guy with these little froo-froo cigarettes.
He smoked them because they were always two for one at the shop by his office.
but now I feel bad because I'm not as upset by my MIL's death as the level of sympathy deserves.
Use it to balance the times when they aren't as sympathetic as they should be.
Like smoking Pledge.
I always liked the smell of lemon Pledge. Hee. I guess I just wasn't ever a serious smoker.
Ok, YAY camels! But...Hmm. Camel milk ice cream? Kinda odd.
I'd still try it.
