Eating Pot

One of my goals this summer is to get stoned regularly. I want to explore the cannabis experience in greater depth, to see how a more consistent marijuana high affects my writing, parenting, spirituality, and overall outlook on life.

So far, I’ve been only partially successful as a pothead; responsibilities keep preventing me from a daily wake n’ bake; I have managed, though, to get stoned in the daytime on several occasions since school’s out. By and large, this has been an enjoyable experience, although I did already lose my keys once and I misplaced a favorite article of clothing—one of my cycling neck gaiters—along the way somewhere.

Part of the problem is that I’ve got this nagging cough. I’ve been waking up with a sore throat have been barking up phlegm throughout the day. This has made me disinclined to smoke dope, a practice that—even when I’m in perfect health—usually induces a coughing jag, especially on that first hit from the joint.

Consequently, I’ve been experimenting with eating pot. Initial reports: I like it! I particularly enjoy the way the high creeps up on you; an hour or so after eating the cookie (I whipped up a batch of “bud butter” and made some oatmeal cookies with it), you find yourself all cotton-mouthed and more appreciative of the colors and sounds of the day. Instead of getting all knocked over and smacked down by the high, you’re sort of welcomed into it more gracefully.

I like how when I eat cannabis I can’t always tell whether I’m high or not—at least at first. There’s this period where I’m thinking “what a beautiful day; what a great life,” before I realize that I’m stoned again.

I suppose I should be worried that on several occasions, an hour or so after I’ve eaten pot, I’ve found myself thinking, “Ahhh…now I feel normal again.”

But that was part of the plan this summer…wasn’t it?