Tag Archives: medical marijuana

So what’s been going on here aside from swimming laps and the eating of greens?

We had a lovely Fourth of July. After dropping Peter at a party, David and I picked up our dinner at a farm stand. I really wanted to see some fireworks up close and personal but didn’t want to deal with a crowd. Fortunately for us, neighbors host a Fourth of July celebration every year complete with pyrotechnics (which are legal and readily available in New Hampshire). We don’t actually know these people but thought we could get away with taking a seat in the adjacent field. At dusk, after generous applications of deet, we strolled down the road. Fireflies were flashing on and off between the trees and in the distance I could hear bagpipes playing.

There’s an art to capturing fireworks, and I
I’ve not mastered it.

It turned out to be a marvelous display; almost an hour long. And as we were within a hundred yards of the site of detonation, the sound was amazing—you could feel it in your bones. Entirely satisfying.

Two days later, Peter took off for a week on Cape Cod, compliments of the same lovely family that took him to Florida over winter break. I texted him last night to see if he missed us and his response was ‘Maybe’. Cheeky teenager.

I’ve also been prepping a new spot for painting in the house. My current ‘studio’ is in an alcove under the eaves, but I’m just too damned tall and always bumping my head on the ceiling. So some old carpet is coming up tomorrow and I will be relocating to a (vertically) larger space.

Aside from that, when I am not writing, reading, cleaning, eating salads or hanging out in the pool, I am walking. A lot. At the conclusion of one such jaunt our neighbor Ray hailed me. Asked how I was doing, showed me his tan line (impressive, but I don’t need to see it again) and offered me some zucchini from his garden. One thing led to another and soon he was talking about the legalization of medical marijuana. And how if that happens I should definitely get squared away with a prescription. Better yet, I could start growing pot, in Ray’s greenhouse. We could become partners. “Perfect,” I say. “A match made in heaven.” As Buddy and I took our leave, Ray’s shouting down the road “You can pay for your son’s education that way!” I shout back “I’m going home to watch Breaking Bad and I’ll think about it!” Oh, New Hampshire.