A Midwinter Night's Cigar

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Back when I smoked three packs a day, I thought that if only I could smoke one cigarette a day I'd get all the pleasure there was out of smoking.  When I finally managed to quit (using the go-to-Ireland-and-don't-bring-cigarettes method), I discovered that four cigars a year sufficed.

Not that I always smoke that many.  This year I had only two: one in March and one the other night.

Cigars being so rare in my life, each one is a special occasion.  I buy a very good one and when the time comes, go out into the back yard with a glass of scotch.  Then I sit alone, in the night, thinking about whatever I'm currently working on.  The Next Novel, in this case.  I slowly smoke the cigar, aided by an occasional sip of whisky.  I plot as far in advance as I can.  And I make notes.

That's my notebook up above with my pen clipped to the right-hand page.  I took a moment off from thinking and taking notes to photograph it lying in my lap, very much like a cat.  The lights are fortuitous, an artifact of the laser Christmas light system that Sean and I installed this year.

So my year has ended peacefully.  Many good things happened this year and I am grateful for them all.  I wish the same for you in the coming year.  Be happy, be well, be kind to one another.

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