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Here is the situation. Since childhood, I have been a dental patient anxiety case. Nose gas, even for cleaning. Not just for myself, but to spare the nice hygienist from the pain and suffering of taking care of my ordinary, everyday teeth. Last Friday, in the larger town down the highway from ours, I had significant dental surgery at a very kind and competent Endodontist. His awards, articles and certificates on the walls were matched by his vocabulary and friendly staff. Besides, I was going to be knocked out. Go for it. Here is where the desperate passion for Cuban cigars comes in, my FOH. This procedure means I cannot smoke cigars for two weeks. I usually smoke almost every day. Sometimes more than one. We are in the city, over two hours south of where we live. I went to visit friends where I like to smoke, drink beer and work on my computer and chat all afternoon. I went just so I would smell their cigars and stink when I got home. And there you have it. True confession. CB