You’ll have to excuse me if I’m slurring my letters. You see, I’m under the influence of weed cream. Therefore, I can’t be held responsible for inappropriate words I’m likely to type. There’s also a chance I might not make sense. But what else is new? Let’s blame it on weed cream.
What, you might ask, is weed cream? Actually, I’m surprised you don’t know. Being one of only 2 other people I’m aware of on the planet who’ve never tried marijuana, I thought pretty much everyone was savvy to the multitude of ways the drug is used. Now don’t get me wrong; I’ve still never smoked the stuff. I’m more interested in the medicinal effects of pot. This is what happens with age.
It’s not that I have anything against pot smokers; I just never had any interest. I did, however, try smoking a cigarette once. It felt like my throat was closing and I’d slowly suffocate to death, whereupon I’d be found days later half-eaten by my dogs. Unlike my cats, they aren’t as particular about what they consume.
I know, it sucks, right? And my condition exists for one reason only: Hilary. Yep. She is totally, entirely and wholly to blame for my current predicament. I suppose you noticed I used 3 adverbs just then. That’s because simply one isn’t nearly sufficient enough to describe the depth of Hilary’s responsibility for this nearly 64-year-old-once-healthy-person now having the back of a 98-year-old.
How can I blame sweet little Hilary for this, you ask? First of all, she isn’t so sweet. Don’t let that smile fool you. But she IS little. Barely reaching a diminutive 5’ 1” doesn’t hide the fact that the woman is no pushover. Nobody messes with Hilary. But I must admit she does have a generous side she shares with her friends. Unfortunately, she considers me one. I’ll explain…
If you’re like me, you frequent a certain restaurant because they serve a particular meal you develop severe cravings for and can barely wait to indulge again. Do you have a restaurant like that? I certainly do. A few of them, in fact.
Once I’m enamored with something, I order it each time I visit that restaurant. Forget the special of the evening or the vegetable risotto they’re known for or the Eggplant Parmesan everyone raves about. I’m narrow-minded once I’ve discovered something that tickles my taste buds.
When I visit Jason’s, my favorite restaurant in Marin, you can bet I’m ordering the spicy Cajun pasta, minus the sausage, please. But first a nice lemon drop sets the tone of the evening. Yep, love me a good lemon drop.