my cigs have been evicted from the house once more. no, i do not wish to do another rousing round of the great smoking debate. what i wish to sort is the flashback series i have been experiencing here in my newest smoke easy. the initial flashback series was triggered 2 weeks ago with a diagnosis of "juvenile idiopathic arthritis" for my 11 year old grandson. it was a shock to my own yaddah blahs to remember that i, too, had juvenile arthritis. it wasn't the meanest hurt in my pity pot, but the flashbacks have been intense. my current day sore spots have been howling like packs of hungry dogs.

the flashbacks have lead me back to the smokey campfires where i suspect i spent most of my childhood. i seldom had nor desired human company at those smokey campfires. escaping the humanity of the kiddie whorehouse was the very goal of those smokey campfires.

as i ply therapy tools here in my comfortable, professionally constructed smoke easy i wonder. . . am i hearing the call of the wild? at 70, my physical energies can barely carry my wanderlust out to the farm's south forty. it doesn't seem likely i'll wander off to the southern hemisphere on impulse drive.

i'm not sure what i am reaching for here. . . just reaching.

again i leave the mood icon on the rapid cycling median.