I Am In Love

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Preferred Member
Dec 29, 2012
Learning to smoke a pipe has not necessarily been easy for me. I would imagine this generally is the same for everyone. I bought an S. Yanik Meer about 1 1/2 years ago. Not wanting to smoke out of this pipe until I became what I believed proficient enough to use it, I left in my cabinet with my tobacco only smoking it once. A few days ago I was sitting outside with my kids enjoying the day. My wife came out of the house with a glass of wine and she was also carrying a little bag with some tobacco in it and my S. Yanik meer. When she gave it to me she said, "have not seen you smoke your pipe in a while thought you might want to." My wife generally does not do these things to often and I did not want to piss her off and tell her I don't smoke this pipe, I went a head packed in the tobacco and lit it. I tell you what I should have been smoking this thing since day 1. I have decided to smoke this pipe exclusively for the month of July.



Preferred Member
Apr 9, 2014
Wives like that are treasures far beyond any smoking instrument.



Preferred Member
Jan 8, 2013
That's awesome. I can't forsee my wife ever encouraging my pipe habits. She tolerates it, and even takes mild interest in my cigars, but she generally dislikes all of it. Sounds like you had an exceptional afternoon.



Preferred Member
May 30, 2012
My wife will generally ask me once I get home if I am smoking my pipe that night or what am I going to smoke. She seems to like some aromas, but never really says anything. Maybe it has similiar comforting attributes to her or maybe as long as I have my pipe in my mouth, I don't talk as much. :|



Preferred Member
Feb 21, 2013
As they used to say in the military, if you got 'em, smoke 'em. Or, the smoking lamp is lighted in all authorized

spaces. Happy smoking. Do something sweet for your honey.



Mar 4, 2014
Love, love that woman love.

To sweat and burn to sigh on sight to see the halo of hazy with a lump in your throat and twist your toes I to the earth like drilling for some courage to sprout an pierce your foot and crawl its way up your body so that you can speak, with out trying to cram your elbow into your ear and dislodge the gear in your head that causes that raspy squeak rather than the thunderous boldness that drives you heart to pound and thump like its trying to escape the cage of bone that contains it. And we choke on the words we so desire to say. We walk up to her as if we are bold and drop our heads and walk by the wrong way. And we plan some grand gesture rather than sleep because the fire shut up in our soul would not let us close our eyes to sleep. And we slip and we stumble and drool on our chins but she says yes anyway and holds our sweaty palms with out pulling away, and she giggles when we Freudian trip over our carefully selected words. Thus we love and love to be loved like a spark from above.