Every now and then I like to sit back and light up, bring out the latest marijuana edible treats and just chill. It use to be that the only way you could nibble a brownie infused with marijuana was making them yourself. Consistency of potency was not easy to attain, and sometimes a half a brownie would do you just fine while other times you had to eat 3 before getting a buzz. Now a day, the marijuana edible is packaged and sold in displays that look like what you would find in the supermarket. And it’s not just brownies. There are all sorts of candies, lollipops, savory sauces, and soda pops. There are a number of edible marijuana products that state that their ingredients are all organic and for those who are gluten intolerant, you can even find gluten-free cannabis infused products. Now that just blows my mind.

Been listening to Flavio’s music these past couple of days – very cool and poignant. It’s inspired by his daughter’s fantasies as she swirls around in her little girls princess dresses. Children are so unselfconscious in their make believe worlds. His daughter’s favorite princess dress is made from an attached two-tone magenta tulle over organza skirt with glitter dot mesh pink trim. She likes to wears glittery tiaras, white gloves, and satin slippers with little bow ties. I’ve been told that when her wand flutters in her tiny hand, she imagines creating rainbows and magical animals. The music Flavio creates for his little princess is far different from his typical experimental trumpet arrangements.

So now that the nights are cooler, quieter, with the flash of the occasional shooting star, if I am lucky, and the moon, I sit on the porch and chill. Just this week I was on the porch in the evening waiting for the good old moon to show up and nibbling a brownie. The whole moon cycle is amazing to observe night after night. First none, then the sliver grows larger until you can see its face, then slowly disappearing till one night it is gone and the darkness is greater.

Then sometimes I can’t wait till the sun is shining and the birds are singing. I imagine a lawn sprinkler just went off, chugging out that infectious summertime rhythm (though it’s still really spring) and somewhere in the distance a cat yowls and a delivery truck slams on its brakes. Whoa, that brownie is really hitting me now and I am just rambling.

14 February –

Valentine’s Day, what a joke. Created by greeting card companies and candy companies to prove to all of us how desperate and alone we are. They say that the suicide rate goes up around the Christmas season, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Valentine’s Day is right up there with it.

The loan refi is going swimmingly, as if any of you cared. I should be able to get back on my financial feet any day now.

I have a strange red spot on one of my thighs. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all (I try not to look down in that direction too often, lest onlookers suspect me of nefarious designs), but it feels a bit warm and itchy. I absentmindedly went to scratch it and it hurt, like when you accidentally scratch a sunburn.

18 February –

My swelling has gone down. Finally. Thanks to all of you who have sent cards and letters. I appreciate the kindness and that you’re all out there thinking of me, but it’s really nothing. I was in and out of the hospital in no time, and I heard that the goats are doing as well as can be expected. I should’ve gone on a trip. I hear medical travel can be quite rewarding. maybe I could find out what was wrong with me, while relaxing on the beach….

Well, that’s about all that I can handle for today. May the good lord bless you and keep you, and remember to keep producing and consuming at a steady but moderate rate. Your pal, David.

21 February –

It seems like weeks since I last wrote to all of you, but my nurse assures me that it’s just a matter of days. I hate her. The condescending way that she speaks to me, as if I were a dog. I swear she enjoys administering the medication, even with the smell and all. Speaking of which, her sponge baths are a joke. I could clean myself better with a dead poodle soaked in dumpster juice.

Funny, I have to have a pencil in my hand even though I’m typing all of this. What does that mean? I notice that someone has been chewing on it. Gross. When I catch them…

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