Ashtrays and Paris

Have you thought about cigarettes lately? I have not. No one in my family smokes.
I have noticed, here and there, people smoking, but it is changing. As we were preparing to move I found some ashtrays. Two were a pair of brass ashtrays made by my late father's old company. It went bankrupt when my father turned 55.
They adopted me in 1956 when they were both working there, mom quit to look after me. The company went bankrupt in 1980, with all his pension, too! They had hung onto these all these years. The company name stamped on the back. I love these old, heavy things.

 It was quite a shock for all of us.

The other ashtrays I found in the cottage. We used to have an uncle who smoked, outside, and would grind his cigarettes into the dry cottage earth. One time we found the earth smoking.

We had our post-honeymoon in Paris. We went to an outdoor cafe for breakfast.
As we sat there, a middles-aged woman, well-dressed in a spectacular suit walked in. She sat, lit her cigarette, and proceeded to read her magazine.

Paris in August

We had a lovely breakfast, and got up to catch our plane home. As we walked by her, I glanced at her magazine. It was a women's mag, featuring rather lovely men, suitably undressed and erect. I was incredibly surprised.

Speaking of shocked. I watched the last World Music Awards and saw a lot of women grinding their way though the music, wth pasties and feather boas. Am I getting old? Of course. Way too much information for me! I thought that the actors on the talk shows I watch while working out seemed to be dressing better. More business casual, and lovely dresses that suit them. That's what I loved about Paris. Everyone dressed incredibly well.