I Love My Sexy Pipe
I have a confession to make. At age 15 my first love was my pipe until I started dating Miss Teen Toronto (wow). But that’s another story.
It’s a Brigham pipe and looks like this:
Mine is a little more Sherlock Holmes style with a more pronounced bend in the stem, but otherwise looks the same. Of course no self respecting pipe smoker would own only one, and I have many in fact. But the Brigham was my first pipe and is still my favorite.
There’s something sexy about a pipe’s smooth, curvaceous lines. I spent many a happy hour buffing and puffing all my attention on them. Looking back it’s no wonder Miss Teen Toronto dumped me. But I digress…
I can only imagine how stupid I must have looked smoking it at age 15, and at this stage in my life it probably looks a little more natural on me than it did then.
I have another confession. Since my wife and daughter have been away I’ve had a huge hole in my gut. I especially miss the sounds of my chatterbox 12 year old daughter. The house is so quiet without them and some of our friends don’t call as often as they used to.
My wife and daughter are the social conveners in my offline world so my cat has become my surrogate best friend, and I’m starting to talk to myself when I go out for long walks (that should tell you something). But I digress again…
Not even blogging has been able to fill the aching void. So amidst all the self-pity and loathing that I’ve been feeling, I remembered my good old friend the pipe with whom I’ve considered renewing relations throughout the years. Yes I know it’s bad for my health, but….
So the other day I managed to find it in a box where I had left it 18 years ago. It looked sadly neglected and begged for puff.
I fondly dusted it off and noticed the old lacquer that I had put on the stem. (Yes, I was that dumb at the time and I lacquered it to revive the stem’s shininess that disappears over time.) I scraped it all off and it’s a wonder that I have any brain cells left (that should also tell you something).
I found my old humidor that was still half-filled with 18 year old tobacco. It was dry as a bone and I figured it was probably no good any more. But I thought I would try to revive it, so I soaked the clay insert and threw in a piece of orange leaving it to sit overnight.
Well let me tell you there are some things that really do improve with age, and this is one of them. My oral fixation and feelings of disconnect were immediately satisfied, and it tastes even better than I remember.
And the aroma! Ahhhhhhhh.
I don’t feel so bad anymore. Anybody else into adult pacifiers? I know, it’s sad.