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2/2/13

My mom was stoned


My mom called me last night just to tell me she was stoned.
(This post is mom-approved.)

Me: Hello.
Mom: Hi! It's your mother. I'm just calling you to tell you I'm stoned.
Me: Really? Good for you.
Mom: I got a tooth pulled today and they gave me Advil AND Tylenol with codeine! It didn't hurt right away so I didn't think I'd need drugs. But when the novocaine wore off I sent your father to the store because it hurt like hell. And now I'm stoned.
Me: Uh-Oh. You turning into Gramma now?
(Gramma was a sleeping pill addict. She never announced when was stoned though. She would just fall asleep in the middle of a card game and let her head drop down onto the kitchen table. That's when we'd take the lit cigarette out of her hand and take her up to bed because that's how we knew she was stoned.)
Mom: No. Gramma took sleeping pills. This is pain medication.
Me: Sounds like you're having fun.
Mom: Well, not really, I'm just sitting here watching TV with the cat on my lap. But I'm stoned and I wanted to tell somebody.
Me: But you sound so excited.
Mom: I don't get to be stoned very much, you know.
Me: I know. You didn't even get stoned when I gave you pot for Christmas.
(I gave my mom and two of her friends a tiny little Santa decoration with a tiny little bit of pot in it for Christmas one year. They had been talking about wanting to smoke pot for years so I thought it was time to see if they'd really do it. It was about 15 years ago.)
Mom: Hey! You know what!? I think that's still in the bottom of my underwear drawer!
Me: I'm sure dad threw it away by now.
(My dad was not happy about the pot. He doesn't like to break the law. He likes to break rules, but not the law. "We can't have that in the house. Why did you bring that into the house. CAMI! You can't give your mother POT for Christmas! You guys aren't going to smoke that are you?  What if the police come? Get that out of here."  I guess my mom kept it for 15 years instead.*)
Mom: No, he wouldn't touch it. I'm going to go make myself a sandwich now. I'm stoned you know. I just wanted to tell somebody.
Me: Yes, I know. Have a good sandwich.
Mom: Bye!

We hung up. I sat and imagined my mom minus one tooth and with a swollen face in her kitchen mashing up a roast beef sandwich with a potato masher in a soup bowl and sitting down to eat it with a spoon and a big happy stoned smile on her face. Well, at least half of her face anyway.

*update 2/03/13 11:08 a.m. I just spoke with my dad. He threw the pot away a long time ago. There is no pot in my parent's house.

Kids, don't do drugs. Only get stoned under doctor's orders, unless that doctor is the same doctor who gave my grandmother sleeping pills for years. Then, kids, please ignore the doctor's orders.

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