Jan. 15, 2020
So, I got high over Christmas. You read that right. High as a kite. The "neon kaleidoscopes spinning on the inside of my eyelids" kind of high. The "my blood has turned to mud and I can't feel my legs" hemp-inspired kind of event. The "I slept for 4 hours and thought it was 5 minutes" kind of cannabis adventure. Yep. All of that, and more.
It's a funny story. And I know this because everyone who hears it laughs uncontrollably - for long periods of time. Usually, they end up in pain and sweating. A few have needed oxygen. In fact - I think they end up feeling very much like I did in the middle of my drug-induced episode. Oh, the irony.
But let's back up. Because if you know me at all, you know that I would not have done this on purpose. (At least not since 1982 and beyond...) So, how did I end up seeing neon pink cats in my dreams?
I ate a cookie.
Ah - now you see where this is going, don't you? We had a big family Christmas party the day before, where one cousin brought another cousin a cute little gift bag filled with "peanut butter cookies." That cute little Christmas bag was accidentally left on the top of my china cabinet, where, to my delight, I found it the next morning. And who among us is going to pass up a good homemade peanut butter cookie with their morning coffee? Definitely not THIS girl!
Cue the confusion.
As I was driving to work, my legs started to feel like cement, and I was instantly nauseous. I got to work, drank some water, and dragged my cement legs around the parking lot a few times, thinking fresh air might help. In what was left of my rational mind, I tried to shake the thought that I must be having a heart attack. Or was it a stroke? Or maybe a brain bleed? I went inside and tried to explain as soberly as possible to my coworkers that I had to leave. By this time, I was still feeling sick, but somehow also oddly imagining myself as a Lord of the Rings character.... Everyone showed great concern, but there was still work to be done!
"Wait!" One of my coworkers said. "Can you please just record a few more lines for our measuring video before you leave? We HAVE to get this finished today!" I was in no mood for a voiceover. In fact, I was in no mood to be upright. But I sat down in the studio and worked very hard at seeming fine - kind of like a drunk teenager trying to act sober when the cops break up the party. But on the inside, I was getting right with Jesus. I said my lines while holding my face up, willed my body back to my car, and made the 5-minute drive back to my house.
"What's wrong?" my concerned husband asked when he saw me roll out of the car and straight into the bedroom - flat on my face in the bed with my coat and shoes still on, purse dangling from my shoulder. I know I answered him, but what I said? That's as big a mystery as the moving bed was to me at the time.
The next thing I remember, Tom was shaking my leg and quietly asking, "Are you awake?" "I don't know what I am!" I moaned with my hands over my face – trying to will the Spirograph stop - but sure at this point that I was definitely not in the Shire at least. "I know why you're sick," he said. He had made a few phone calls to family members and figured it out. "That cookie you ate this morning, was a Cannabis cookie."
I can't even really explain what happened at that moment. A massive wave of relief that I wasn't dying? The high point of my accidental high? The irony of the whole situation? Whatever it was, the floodgates burst open and I started to laugh. And I mean explosive, from the depths of my soul, sides-in-a-vice LAUGH.
I immediately called my son (the intended cookie recipient) and attempted to tell him about my morning adventures in maryjane land. There is no way to describe how that conversation went, but you'll need to trust me when I tell you that it was one of the funniest moments of my life – and his – and everyone else who was listening when he put me on speaker.
It took a few days to feel normal again. I learned that even "experienced cookie eaters" would not have eaten a whole one of those particularly potent treats all at once. But, me? Well, I don't back down from a challenge! I recovered just fine though and lived to tell the story that will, no doubt, be the centerpiece of my eulogy someday.
And now, when people ask me how my Christmas was, I just smile and tell them, "It was definitely the high point of my year."