The first time happened in high school. Susan Hopper smoked me up, as they say, under the bridge in Smithville. And then I had to go to a class. The teacher droned on and I couldn’t tell whether or not I was acting normal. I rarely smoked it after that, and never at school.
If I drank too much, which I tended to do, my body would – shall we say – expel some alcohol and save me. If I smoked too much, I had to ride it out or go to sleep, which I did on more than one occasion at parties. I vividly remember my friend Corinne checking on me regularly at a Halloween party. I found a chair in a dark corner and had a snooze, thumping music, loud voices and all. Every once in a while she would shake my shoulder as if I were a concussion patient, asking me if I was okay before going back to the festivities.
A radio announcer I worked with in Toronto lit up in a stairwell every day at 5:01, when the regular staff had left. I worked my way through a cloud of blue smoke every evening to start my show. The smell of pot is rather pleasant, I think. I just don’t want to partake.
Dad got a medical marijuana license to help ease his Parkinson’s tremors. He had it baked in cookies and it helped him sleep. I’m thinking about inquiring about that same thing. No THC, just some medicinal assistance. Funny that it’s taking until recreational pot is legal for me to genuinely consider going the medicinal route for a sleep aid. I don’t know why that is.
I’ve never thought of marijuana as anything terribly dangerous, although I’ve seen first-hand how too much of it can turn someone’s ambitions into pudding. Well, the day is here and many thought it would never come. I sure wish I knew where Stoner Patty was today. In Grade 10 she was all about lobbying for legalization. I hope she’s somewhere celebrating a victory that was an awfully long time coming.
When I was growing up there was a family a few houses down from ours who cultivated marijuana with plants under heat lamps in their home, in the back yard, a bucket on the roof vent and distributed in unsuspecting home owners backyards and local parks.
Access was plentiful and readily available, but I had no interest. I remember trying it once while camping with friends, that coupled with the alcohol, all I remember is returning from the washroom, tripping over a tent peg, falling and ending up somehow in my bunk. I’ve never tried it again and hate the smell.
My neighbour smokes and has for years and every time he does I have to close my windows so the smell doesn’t linger in my home. We live in a condo and the condo lawyer is drafting rules which will place limits on where you can smoke, but you won’t be able to grow marijuana in the common elements or even your home due to safety and health concerns.
Enjoy your marijuana, but stay ten feet away and down wind please.
I agree wholeheartedly with Allan. That’s why edibles are by far the better option – and easier on the lungs (everyone’s) one would think. Lisa, my sister has symptoms of menopause that include insomnia. Having lived in Hawaii where it’s much more commonly consumed, she began having just a few puffs before bed and it worked beautifully. Her husband admonished her and suggested instead she take his Ativan. Um…which do you think has more side effects, an RX or pot? I know someone with capsules (bought before the laws changed today) and they also do – although hers have the THC in them so there’s the high and not just the medicinal relaxation. You do you. And as long as it doesn’t interfere with a person’s sobriety, my take is “the more options, the better”.
I am going to try the edibles when they are available here in Ontario and see if they can help curb my chronic pain.