Smok-ed Apple Pie

Sometimes I wish there was a purely healthy form of smoking.  Is that weird?  Perhaps as dangerous for your health as lighting a portable scented candle. 

Standing on a chilly street corner, waiting for the bus, I think 'Wouldn't it be great to have something warm to puff on? Wouldn't it be sexy to be surrounded by a cloud that smells like cinnamon and cloves and apple pie?  And in the next room I enter, everyone would take a deep breath--of me--and smell home?'  There's no need for addictive chemicals or harmful additives; it would be like the perfectly ripe, juicy fruit in a world of sticky candy.

These apple pie cigarettes would of course only work in the winter.  Who wants to puff on a garden stick in the middle of summer as sweat drips from their brow?  Like mittens or earmuffs, the scented sticks would serve only as a means for warmth, company, and fragrance.  Like a smokey perfume that passes the lonely hours by your side.  Wouldn't that be nice?


Addict-ed to Love, and TV.

So a few months ago, I signed up for a Netflix account.  (I know, I know, I'm a little slow.)  Ever since, the boyfriend and I have become complete junkies.  So much so that last night, I took the next step and upgraded my account.  It's a dangerous addiction.

Our main staple is, of course, the famed series, Mad Men.  We have come to love Don Draper and his debonaire, alcoholic, chain-smoking ways.  But, to make things worse, last night we discovered Dexter, the relatively ground-breaking series about a serial killer that choses his victims in the name of making the world a better place, essentially eliminating the bad guys one villian at a time.  Though Dexter can be a somewhat dark and disturbing show, we are both now sucked in.

Surprisingly, last night's episode evoked a rather interesting thought.  Dexter comes across a villian couple--two individuals who are in cahoots on a terrible human trafficking plan, but who also happen to be in love.  Just before he kills and dismembers them, he poses this question: "How can two people as awful as you two still be in love with one another?"  In rushed gasps they both mutter that they share the same dreams for their lives--in this case the dream was to obtain obscene amounts of money no matter what the cost--but the idea seemed to stick with me.

What if the reason a relationship works is because the mutual dreams line up with one another in such a way that a unified bond is undeniable.  Like the way the proteins of DNA match up because their physical and chemical properties just seem to work with one another, what if we work with our romantic partner because all of the little nooks and cranies of our beings match up with theirs? 

As a test, I asked: "What's your life dream, babe?"
In his characteristic simple eloquency, he responded, "I don't know, I'd like to just be happy.  Doesn't really matter how, I just want love and happiness and a couple of kids."

Huh, maybe Dexter is onto something here.