Monthly Archives: February 2016

Why weed

Posted on by under Musings

I’ve liked weed since the first time I tried it at Senior Week, when a friend told me about how some guy in our high school had had sex with some girl in our high school. It was scandalous in the dumb way teenage hook-ups are, and she followed up the revelation with the usual “Don’t say anything.” But then she added: “Well, it’s not like we’re ever going back.”

That shit was deep. I was officially high.

Fourteen years later, I think those revelations are still one of my favorite things about marijuana, though the list is long. I love thinking, analyzing, getting high and gazing at the stars, feeling both the weight of my insignificance and the sense of belonging in a vast and seemingly infinite universe.

I love laughing until my stomach hurts and my cheeks turn numb, the pain in my abs harder and more wonderful than any workout could ever produce. I love polishing off the last bite of a delicious meal with unbridled satisfaction. I love waking up hangover-free. But perhaps most of all, I love the clarity and introspection of the herb, being present in a way that allows me to live in the beauty of my life and the magic of my children’s youth.

I know that makes me sound like a total stoner, which I sort of am, but maybe not in the stereotypical way. I don’t smoke nightly and there’s a part of me–a big part, actually–that worries about this blog. And not for the practical reasons, like, “Will I lose my job?”; but rather, the anxiety over the messages I want to send: About values and vices and my overarching thoughts on drugs, life, parenting, work, marriage and love.

Am I getting it right? Am I fucking up completely? I want to preface every post with: “This is what I believed at 32!” Who knows how that will change. Isn’t that the beauty of it all? That we get to keep going and hopefully reach a place where we get it right?

But I guess those are all thoughts for another post, on another day. For now, I just want my girls (and Mr. D) to know that my love for them is as vast and infinite as the universe itself. And maybe that’s what I love about marijuana. In a life that moves astonishingly fast, I get to slow down time when I’m with you.

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Bless you, NameBright

Posted on by under 5-minute compliment

I paid $2,000 for the highmom.com domain name. I’m not sure how stupid that was; I tend to vacillate between “What that fuck were you thinking” and “That’s not really that much.”

Anyway, I purchased the site from NameBright.com, and dropping that kind of cash on a site I’d never heard of made me uneasy. I kept wishing I had bought it from GoDaddy, finding comfort in its creepy name and sleazy commercials. (Hashtag brand recognition.)

But almost immediately after I purchase highmom, I realize I have no clue what I’m doing. (If this post were a Family Guy clip, we’d segue to the scene from “Don’t make me over,” which sadly doesn’t exist on YouTube. But it’s the one where Peter, Joe, Cleveland and Quagmire are on stage, in costume, before a crowd of prisoners, ready to play their first song just as Peter realizes they don’t know any.)

Anyway, Peter is me: lost, intimidated, overwhelmed. I don’t know what a name server is. I don’t know what my next steps are. This whole process scares me, and so I do the only thing I know how. Nothing.

I’d still be making payments on a nonexistent site were it not for Mr. D. He suggests I call the company, have them walk me through the steps. And how they do. The lucky customer service rep spends close to an hour answering all of my stupid questions. And they are stupid. (But whatever. I’ve learned your ability to grasp a concept is inversely proportional to the simplicity of the questions you ask about it.) Anyway, he explains things in such digestible detail that I finally understand I need to find a web hosting site.

So I call my friend who’s launching a new mobile company, has built websites, and all-around knows his shit. When he recommends DreamHost, I listen. And I eventually launch this blog.

DreamHost and NameBright are probably totally different services (or maybe they’re identical. Who knows. I certainly don’t.). Anyway, the only discernible difference I’ve noticed is in the customer service.

DreamHost offers 24/7 live chat, which is amazing until you start asking questions. Talking to them makes me feel like I’m getting my eyebrows waxed at a Korean nail salon. (“Ohhh, you very hairy. Very hairy. Want your lip done, too?”). Actual quotes from DreamHost’s customer service team include, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” and “I don’t know how to help you beyond the answers I’ve given.” I always exit the pop-up box feeling like the web development dummy that I am.

But then I call NameBright, whose representatives patiently navigate me through uncharted, digital waters. Maybe they’re just better at understanding their consumer. “She’s high? And a mom? She’s clearly sleepy and confused. Let’s take it easy on this one.”

Whatever the reason, I thank you, NameBright. I was wrong for ever doubting you.

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Nothing says I love you like a vomit hug

Posted on by under Musings

Love can be candy and roses, but it’s also picking regurgitated carrots from your daughter’s curls. It’s watching your husband scrape vomit from your car’s cup holders on a 12-degree day. It’s ugly and gross, in sickness or in health, for better or worse.

That’s how we spent our Valentine’s Day 2016. Not ideal, but real. And I think it was the most accurate metaphor for love. I could probably write more, but I’m still queasy, and someone else has already articulated this far more eloquently:

Grit Is Often The Best Description Of Love. It was easy to love [my wife] when we were newlyweds. Easy for her to love me during seasons of comfort. But it’s much more difficult to fight for love when you lose a baby. Or have a huge financial setback. Or confess a really ugly secret about yourself. Fairy tales are great for movies, but real life is more often confusing, chaotic and messy. Dig in when it gets hard.

Kung Fu Panda is trash

Posted on by under Reviews

I got high and watched Kung Fu Panda for the first time last night. What a disappointment (the movie, not the weed). Apparently the moral of the story is “there is no secret ingredient” to success. It just boils down to fate.

Really, Dreamworks? That is SO not the ninja message.

If you haven’t seen the movie, here’s my synopsis:

An entitled panda named Po is “destined” to be the dragon master and defeat an evil snow leopard prophesied to be dark and dangerous. The leopard is depicted as being ruthlessly ambitious in search of a mysterious scroll, which ultimately ends up being worthless because “there’s no secret ingredient” to success. Po’s destiny leads him to bad-ass animals who have devoted their lives to the martial arts. But since they’re not The Chosen One, they’re worthless. Even as a team, they can’t stop the evil leopard. Meanwhile, Po, an indolent bastard whose only redeeming quality is dueling for a dumpling, never learns the value of grit and moral fortitude but somehow ends up saving the day.

Why would we send that message to kids? It negates everything I hope to teach my daughters, which is: If you want to be a ninja at anything, you have to work really fucking hard. That’s the message of all two of my childhood kung fu movies, The Karate Kid and Sidekicks (RIP, Jonathan Brandis).

Then I venture down my stoned rabbit hole of things I want to teach them:

  • Hard work is the secret ingredient to anything worth having in this life, from a good job to a good marriage to everything in between and beyond.
  • You’re not entitled to anything. But you sweet, privileged young ladies are destined for greatness. And that’s partly because you’ve been blessed with advantages in this life that not everyone has.
  • That may make you may feel like you can get complacent. You can’t. You must use your gifts to make a meaningful mark on whatever you choose to do in this world.
  • I hope you’ll be as driven by your own talents as you are by the values your father and I try to instill. Values of kindness, resilience, humor, empathy–the things we hope to teach by example, but sometimes fail in exhibiting ourselves.
  • Because none of us are Chosen. We’re just trying our best–and hopefully, trying a little more, and getting a little better, every day.
  • Kaizen. Continuous improvement. Work hard, get better.

That’s what this dumb movie should have been about. With way more kung fu.

Diary of a stoner mom

Posted on by under Essays

There are nights when I hold her close, her heartbeat against mine, the intimacy of our bond so deep, the tenderness so palpable that all I can think of is this. This moment. This soul. This love. This, I whisper to myself, is the meaning of life. Also—and this part I don’t whisper, I just know—this mommy is really high.

I’m not sure when I became a pothead. In fact, I’m not quite sure what the definition is. For me, it’s a few hits of the bowl, a few nights a week. It’s my release from daily drudgery, my descent to Zen. It’s my time. Except it isn’t.

There’s something about marijuana that makes me want to lie in the grass and find dragons in the clouds. Or linger in the kitchen, admiring my husband refill the dog bowl. Or curl in bed, reading every story of my daughter’s princess adventure book, nuzzling my nose in her hair until she falls asleep.   Continue reading →