TALES: Counting flowers on the wall ...

For the 27th time, I'm a quitter. I'm three sleepless days into a Zyban-induced, anti-depressant coma as the final grams of nicotine seep from my pores; a cool visualization to occupy my sleep- and drug-deprived mind for hours. There's no doubt that I'm a complete space case, but there's an unusual feeling of finality in the air this time. I think chewing tobacco will join the demons of the past that only beckon from a distance now.

My daughter told me she'd get an "A" in geometry if I quit using tobacco (not a huge stretch for a girl with a 3.6 GPA), but a challenge to the solid "B" she's had in the class.

The weather’s kept me off the bike since quitting, so I'm anxious to see how the stamina’s affected. The sudden increase in both Guacamole and Black Pepper Jack Doritos definitely won't help!