Sometimes I miss getting high.

This morning, on my way to Down to Earth, “Mr. Brown” came on while I was driving, and in a very cliché flashback I went back to a time where I was in my mid-20’s, sitting on the ground in the living room of a nameless friend, smoking a joint and listening to records.

And that weightless feeling… the feeling of not really feeling anything but fucking excellent… Ya, I kind of miss that sometimes.

homemade bread made with spelt, coconut flour, teff, and seeds

homemade bread made with spelt, coconut flour, teff, and seeds

Politics, motherhood, the new person I’m becoming, my school schedule, the idea that I’m going to eventually have a mild purpose in fighting the white patriarchy by helping women of color, the protesting of the ridiculous system of feeding Americans literal shit… all the while sitting in excitement about planting vegetables with my husband and starting our aquaponics so we can start eating really healthy-ass homegrown food (like the homemade bread I just made…see picture yum!) and…just the hopes that Yume will be even smarter than Dean and I and will be in private school and just amazing at anything she tries because she’s already SO smart and she’s only 2 1/2… it can get pretty heavy.

It’s a weight I’m so proud of bearing. But, every once in awhile, for just a few moments, I just miss being high.

And, to clarify, the feeling I’m missing is necessarily the drug-induced THC high, although haha… that IS a large part of it— It’s more about the ability to sit on the floor at 12pm, while Obama was the president, and just listen to records while smoking a joint. I wasn’t thinking about white supremacy every 5 minutes of the day, I wasn’t thinking about what time dinner had to be made so that I could spend the most time with the Yoomerz, I wasn’t thinking about anything except what song to play next. If you are at the point in your life (sans the president Obama part, because…sadly those days are long gone) where you can do that, take a deep, long toke on your spliff for me.

And, if you don’t know about my life and my commitment, and my steadfastness to just the everything, you could easily brush off my seen and unseen efforts and say “but…you’re a stay at home mom, why can’t you sit on the floor and listen to records all day?” to that my middle finger is raised.

Because, whatever-forever to that assumption, asshole….

but ya. this is just some mid-day honesty for you and your behind,

Love always,

Winnie.