Return of the Crack (er)

I recently discovered the joy most stoners have known for centuries: the tongue-gasmic rewards of satisying a case of the munchies. Which is to say I now dabble in the trippy truffle. People who read my work or who saw my younger crazy curly-headed moon-eyed self are probably surprised by this, as I have often been mistaken for a long-time partaker.

People who really know me, those who probably bristle at my OCD adherence to laws and the commandments of adulting (a secret wrath awaits if you show up late especially if I am cooking you dinner) would never make that mistake.  My mattresses all have their original tags, and while I experimented a few times in college, I generally eschewed the sweet leaf until it was legalized in Illinois.

Thanks to the Governor Pritzker and the ardent lobbyists who gathered in vain for decades at Ann Arbor’s Hash Bash, those days are over.