I was talking to a friend as I cleaned my house for the first time in what seemed like forever.
While I transferred my loose change from my pockets to the proper receptacle I came across a tin which I hadn't seen in a while. I shook it.
Well. Let's just see about that.
Just the tiniest bit too in a plastic baggie. Not nearly enough to get me high, but weed nonetheless.
Unlike the responsible line-cook lifer that I am, I had not been rotating my stock. And since the delivery guy had shut me off for bad behavior I hadn't taken inventory in a while.
Without the slightest hesitation I flushed it down the crapper.
Oh, the humanity. Yes I know. Drug abuse at it's finest. Sue me.
One of my favorite movies of all time is Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It's a classic. Gene Wilder at his finest. A magnificent, groundbreaking achievement. I could watch it every day.
One of my favorite phrases to say aloud comes from this movie.
"Little surprises around every corner but nothing dangerous." It's said by Mr. Wonka as the guests are exploring their new environment and finding things like the human-hand coat hooks that are actually alive. It fits in a lot of situations and it's just obscure enough to not cause one to pause.
I won't call marijuana dangerous as I don't believe that it is. It may have caused me to forget a couple of things I shouldn't have, and I certainly spent a pretty penny on the stuff in the past, but I wouldn't call it dangerous.
Republicans are dangerous. Weed is just that. Weed.
As I have outlined I do not have room in my life for alcohol or drugs and unfortunately, weed is a drug. A beautiful, green, pungent, fun-as-hell, illegal drug. And since I am trying to clean the cobweb covered windows in the haunted mansion of a brain in which I live, I threw it away.
These days I am exploring a new environment. I am discovering long hidden talents like returning movies on time and understanding what people say when they talk to me. I can sit at my computer and I'm not constantly making spelling errors due to hands that won't stop shaking. I don't throw my back out from the shock of someone knocking on my door.
It's kind of nice.
So tonight, I'm going to hang up my coat on the familiar coat hook (read: nails) and I'm going to make some cookies. I'm going to have a few and by a few I don't mean all of them. No, I'm going to have a few and then I'm going to put some in a tin and give them to my best friend for his birthday. Which coincidentally is the year anniversary of the passing of my Mom.
And I'm not going to drink myself to sleep like I probably would under different circumstances.
I'm going to talk aloud to her like I always have and thank her for the recipe. I'm going to thank her for the humor and compassion which she always displayed. I'm going to look at myself in the mirror and not want to punch it. Because I won't hate what I see. Because I'll see her. In my eyes, my nose, my hair, my skin, and my smile. She loved to smile. And she loved surprises. And she loved me. And while all of the surprises I was responsible for over her all too short 65 years on this earth weren't always of the most innocent nature, they were never intentionally dangerous. Goodnight Judith Ann Johnson. One year later and it still hurts like hell. But now at least I can feel it.
~PS: I may be an only child but I do have an older brother. Four months older in fact. Not biologically possible, but a brother nonetheless. His birthday is 1-11-70.
His name is Steve Sanderson and he very well may have saved my life. For this I will forever be grateful. Happy birthday Steve.
Sto-lat my friend. Sto-lat.