Rocky Mountain Mama

John and I recently took my mom to Nebraska to see my niece, my mom’s granddaughter, Erin, get married. We then headed up to Hot Springs, South Dakota to stay with my brother, Mike, and his wife, Cindy, for a few days. We had some adventures there that I will write about soon, but today I want to regale you with a story of debauchery and corruption. Well, that might be just a bit of an exaggeration.

In the SW corner of Wyoming, next to SD, the state connects to-

We made a three hour detour just so we could visit a recreational dispensary. I was a big fan of weed in high school and college, but then adulthood eventually hunted me down and made me feel guilty for continuing to act like my life was any fun at all. I’ve now decided-

Although marijuana is legal in some states, it is still classified as a schedule 1 drug, on equal footing with heroin and cocaine - meaning that it has high abuse potential, no medical use, and severe safety concerns. You know, completely unlike super safe pharmaceutical drugs.

It amazes me every time I see a pharmaceutical commercial, when they nonchalantly mention all the potential side effects of their drugs- up to and including death…’wow honey, let’s call our doctor so we can play Russian Roulette tonight!’ And I love the antidepressant commercials that tell you that you may have suicidal thoughts when taking it. How does a med for relieving depression, but may cause suicidal thoughts, get approved? What kind of villainy is taking place at our expense? It’s like Snidely Whiplash is head of the FDA. (Yes, I’m old, deal with it)

Marijuana is a benign substance next to the latest miracle drugs approved by the FDA. Those researchers must be on some serious drugs to approve most of that shit. Drug companies are able to happily tout their life threatening bullshit and no one bats an eye; it’s become background noise. Guess how many people have OD’ed on marijuana? Are physically addicted to it? Robbed a store to get money for it? Killed for it? Zip, zilch, nada, zero. Sounds pretty fucking safe to me. Just ask Willy Nelson.

But I digress; end of rant. We had to show our ID’s both outside and in the dispensary to be served. They wouldn’t let me take any pics so I’ll just tell you that it reminded me of Amsterdam, where you can get anything you want, except for the clap (if you are a fan of red lights). Being novices, we let the guy behind the counter choose a few choice items for us. My mom got a potent root beer, I got some edible candies, and John got some contraption I still haven’t figured out.

Totally trying to get my mom high

I ate one edible and my mom drank that entire bottle. Both of us had the same amount of THC, but I caught a great, wonderfully reminiscent buzz and my mom felt nothing. I’m thinking she’s like a superhero, impervious to mind/mood altering substances. I’m not and I’m damn happy about it.

So, in closing, I tried to corrupt my mom, but she’s a badass and I failed. I love that woman.