Labor Day. Shop's closed, dishes are done--laundry whirling away in the machine downstairs. A chance to slow down a bit, take her easy. "Maybe today?"
I've been asking myself that a lot lately. It might have been six months ago when I bought that first tin of Sixpence, but until now the answer had always come back from within, "not yet." There was something intimidating about that tin--something that always led me to set it back down and grab a mason jar of cavendish, or any old bit of a Frogmorton.
"Today." I gather my smoking tools, open the tin to a delicious fragrance, and begin to rub out the flake. This takes time--I've only smoked one or two flakes, and this procedure is somewhat new to me. Still unsure whether I've done it correctly, I collect the rub off my leather Tobacco mat and pack my only Stanwell. The draw feels good--nothing left to do but top off the zippo, step out the screen door, and light.
Something new...or as it turns out, something old that I didn't notice in Froggie on the Bayou--a raspy-ness in the sinuses. Harsh. Off putting? Maybe. I puff a few times more--and then I get it. I'm picking up on Perique! Slooowly I draw, and now the harshness is gone and the peppery sensation starts taking over.
The next sensation is instantly familiar--nicotine rush. It's a little unusual for me, and this part is always off-putting. I think back to my second or third bowl, when I puffed way too fast, and had to lie down for 10 or 20 minutes just so I didn't get sick.
But today's different--my cadence adapts, and the rush reaches a plateau--instead of getting sick to my stomach, I feel..really good. VERY good, actually. For a moment, I begin to believe that if all I had in this world was a corn cob pipe and a tin of Sixpence, I'd be alright. When I get back inside, I move that tin to the front of the stack.
I'll be reaching for Sixpence again...The mystery continues.
I've been asking myself that a lot lately. It might have been six months ago when I bought that first tin of Sixpence, but until now the answer had always come back from within, "not yet." There was something intimidating about that tin--something that always led me to set it back down and grab a mason jar of cavendish, or any old bit of a Frogmorton.
"Today." I gather my smoking tools, open the tin to a delicious fragrance, and begin to rub out the flake. This takes time--I've only smoked one or two flakes, and this procedure is somewhat new to me. Still unsure whether I've done it correctly, I collect the rub off my leather Tobacco mat and pack my only Stanwell. The draw feels good--nothing left to do but top off the zippo, step out the screen door, and light.
Something new...or as it turns out, something old that I didn't notice in Froggie on the Bayou--a raspy-ness in the sinuses. Harsh. Off putting? Maybe. I puff a few times more--and then I get it. I'm picking up on Perique! Slooowly I draw, and now the harshness is gone and the peppery sensation starts taking over.
The next sensation is instantly familiar--nicotine rush. It's a little unusual for me, and this part is always off-putting. I think back to my second or third bowl, when I puffed way too fast, and had to lie down for 10 or 20 minutes just so I didn't get sick.
But today's different--my cadence adapts, and the rush reaches a plateau--instead of getting sick to my stomach, I feel..really good. VERY good, actually. For a moment, I begin to believe that if all I had in this world was a corn cob pipe and a tin of Sixpence, I'd be alright. When I get back inside, I move that tin to the front of the stack.
I'll be reaching for Sixpence again...The mystery continues.