Lurkers, posters, those who are contemplating kicking the habit, those who need reinforcement for the wisdom of their decision to quit, park your butt (of the posterior variety) and join in the non-smoking merriment.
Status: Day two of Zyban, spent the innaugural Zyban-day in bed felled by terrible cramps and felt otherwise delightfully buzzed for the first 8 hours. Sensed no decrease in nicotine craving - perhaps I’m getting a tad impatient in the expectation of a miracle ‘cure’. Which leads me to wonder, does the diminished craving arrive as an epiphany or does it seep in more slowly - not unlike the E Coli bacteria in Walkerton’s wells.
The Pity Count: Stalled at one. Demanded that Hans pity me and he’s eagerly complying. He is being rather relentless, though, and I may have to fire him - “oh baby, how are you?”; “we’ll now grow old together but you’ll always look younger than I do.”
Sumo Toddler’s proving unreliable in the pity department and seems more concerned with his Sonic game than the welfare of his mother’s lungs. Self-proclaimed Geek Boy and Mini-me don’t understand what the big deal is. Perhaps I should take away their Nintendo and Sega and see how well they fare through the withdrawal.
Routine Schmoutine: In a bid to avoid the smoking triggers, I have started to arbitrarily impose new rules on myself in an effort to break free from habitual and routine smoking. I now wait at least ten minutes before I have the first cigarette of the morning, I will only smoke when I physically desire one, I have started to call Hans, Olaf.
Enemy Territory: Bars, restaurants, soccer games, the barn, my brother’s house. I smoke more in a bar and will linger over many cigarettes after a good meal. Mini-me’s soccer tournaments stress me out and in reaction I will smoke. I am, yes, one of those horrible people who has smoked while astride, our trainers also smoke which will usually compel me to light up. Ditto my evil brother. I will avoid all enemy territory until my second smoke-free week.
Reaching out to your inner bitch: I have six days remaining before I must permanently butt out and have taken to repeating a daily mantra, which goes something like this: “I don’t want to die”. Given my children’s indifference, though, I have amended it to: “I don’t want to die so that I may continue to torment my children well into my '90’s.” I need to be as relentless bitchy about kicking the habit as I have been with the cable repair guy.
Non-smoking incentive: I must, I must, I must, I must increase my butt!
then of course I smoke much more. Or right before a class in a horse show (really good idea, huh?, when the judges has you troting for 15 min straight 
