hicool@hicoolac.com

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"Mom's Marijuana" - rooftop air conditioner

by:HICOOL     2021-10-11
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My parents always use a small piece of land in the backyard as a garden.
About the size of a normal bedroom. Pretty small.
But they all linger in the garden in spring and summer.
They plow, fertilize, sow, cover and sample the soil. They watered.
They pinch the leaves.
In the evening, they pointed to pictures from books and seed magazines that eventually accumulated and took over the restaurant.
A few months later, there was something.
It is usually a crop of mutations.
One year it was zucchini.
Thousands of zucchini climbed out of the garden like an actor.
Night of horror film
When the neighbors returned home, they saw anonymous zucchini bread, pies and cakes, carefully balanced in the screen door, or stuffed into the mailbox.
Dad put a huge zucchini by the bed in case there was an intruder.
On April, during the month of planting, I was diagnosed with he Jiejin's disease. Dr.
Brodsky talked with his arms in front of him, listing the chemo drugs I was going to take and their side effects. Prednisone. Procarbazine.
Nitrogen mustard. Vincristine.
The latter two cause nausea and vomiting.
Sounds unpleasant.
A few nights before I started my treatment, I called a friend, the only person I knew who had cancer.
He muttered five words on the phone: "The chemo is tough, man, go get the marijuana.
"I trotted into the living room and casually announced to my family that I was going to buy marijuana to relieve nausea and vomiting.
There was a repressed silence that only interrupted when my mother's fingers were quickly tapped in the armchair.
Then she started, her voice with the staccato that she usually kept for my father.
She told me in no uncertain terms that there would be no drugs at home.
She blamed me for the dangers of illegal substances, visited the horrors of a life full of drug addiction, and swore to me that her roof would never shelter drug addicts.
She reached out a finger and ended her attack.
With the vitality of a teenager for a reason, I rebutted that for me marijuana is the medicine and the only medicine that can moderate the violent treatment I face.
My body will soon deal with toxins that are more dangerous than marijuana.
At the end of our conversation, we started.
I know my mother.
Once she is in trouble, there is no point in arguing. I retreated.
I still wonder what happened to her at night.
Perhaps she studied the brochure provided by the doctor, and perhaps she woke up in her sweat, and the remnants of her son's harmful dreams and chemotherapy were still engraved in her mind. I don't know.
But I know this.
The next morning, my mother ran down the list of "cigarette shops" in the phone book with her fingers.
She called some agencies to ask detailed questions and wrote down the words bong, carb and plumbing etc.
Then she picked up the keys and purse and 30 minutes later she walked down the aisle of a headquarters store called "stairs to Heaven", took notes and carefully checked the inferior workmanship of the goods
My mom is a consumer reporting shopper.
As my mother's car drove into the driveway, I was sitting on the ground in the backyard.
She appeared on the back porch a few minutes later, waving three
Stepped on her head.
She announced her findings in the same powerful voice she used to call me and my brother over the years for dinner: "Is this OK, they don't have blue. . .
"When I entered the house, the deli handed me the wages and some money.
She wiped the dust off my shoulder and gently told me to do whatever I needed to do to get marijuana.
I left to buy after making a phone call.
When I came back with a small bag, my mom asked me to have a look.
I felt a strong sense of teenage fear, which was due to my years of living under the watchful eyes of my mother.
I handed it in.
She looked at the small bag. Incredulous.
She asked, "where is the rest ? "
"That's it, Mom," I said.
She squinted at me. "I swear, Ma. That's it.
She said softly, "Give me the seed, dear.
"I thought of the giant zucchini.
When my father learned about my mother's plan, he cut out two articles from the newspaper titled "police raids produce results" and "seized drug houses ".
"He put them under the magnets on the fridge and lined the worst part.
That night, when we were ready to eat, mom read and nodded with a clear head and said, "bring them.
"My parents plow, fertilize, sow, cover and sample the soil that summer. They watered.
They pinch the leaves.
August, the arrival of Mutant crops.
In our backyard, ten thick plants grow more than 11 feet tall, exceeding the sunflowers in front.
Much more marijuana than I 've ever smoked. ------------
The Gainesville airport is small.
It doesn't even have a tower.
There are two doors, two from the airport lobby.
It was a wet night with sweat in the air and mosquitoes occasionally.
Gainesville is a university town with college clothes all over the airport.
There are a lot of baseball caps, ponytail and shorts.
People sit in the hall to read or watch small TV scattered in the kiosk.
Football is played on TV.
When I saw their plane off the coast outside the window, I was watching the second half of the frustrating Patriots game.
I stood up with the others and we gathered at the door.
After a while, I felt a familiar comfort when I found out my father's baldness. And then Mom.
I can see the pace of confidence anywhere.
Her wallet strap went through her body like a cross guard mirror, and she looked like she was wearing a uniform for a while.
Before I realized that, I was walking through the crowd and into their arms.
Both of them are at the same time.
Tired Smile
My cheek feels hot.
We stood quietly by the baggage conveyor belt.
A few bags arrived and we pulled them down from the belt. Then more. And more.
Mom was never an efficient packers.
Being prepared for anything that might happen is more important than being able to put luggage into standard luggage --
Like, say, a U-Haul.
The sixth bag arrived.
About the size of Buick.
My father suggested: "The body of Jimmy hofa is inside . "
"Don't be a wise man.
"Ass," My mother said.
I snorted under heavy pressure.
The investigation begins with driving.
My parents haven't been to Gainesville before.
Or our new apartment.
Is there any place in this town where you can buy good bagels? The biopsy is still scheduled for Thursday morning as I don't have any other symptoms, how long will I be in the hospital, isn't it a cyst or something? I look tired--
Did I go to class? Do I want my dad to drive? Maybe I shouldn't have my bag with me. How about graduate school? Is it harder than dad Vasa and I are dragging our luggage into our new apartment?
Let's get Jimmy hofa's bag in together.
When we finally managed to get it in, we were all laughing at the weight of it.
Mom was angry and let's leave it in the kitchen.
"It's hot," Mom said while working on the knob of the air conditioner.
"Maybe we can go to Penn Prairie or giniquan tomorrow before you meet the doctor," she asked . ".
My parents always do this.
No matter where I am, they know the place better than I do.
Where is each historic site, how many Apaches were relocated there in the 1880 s, and of course, they might find a red one there --bellied plover.
Penn Prairie is a Everglades south of Gainesville.
I haven't heard of it at the time.
Or Ginnie Springs, where, according to my mother, the crystal-
The clear blue water came out of the limestone.
Someone knocked on the door and the front door opened.
I said, "I want you to finally meet Terry . "
Mother no longer fiddled with the air conditioner or stared at it. Terry walks in.
She was smiling.
A warm introduction.
We talked for a few minutes and then I went to my new lobby closet to find towels and had Terry and my parents stay alone in the kitchen.
When I heard Terry, I was digging the bath towel and her voice was much louder than usual.
"Oh my God, this is what I think I heard my mother say softly ". "Oh my God. OH MY GOD! DANIEL! " Terry yells.
I walked back to the room briskly with a towel in my hand. what happened?
I arrived in time and saw my mother yank and finally got a huge plastic Ziploc loose bag for free from the hofa bag.
I knew at once that I had never seen so much marijuana stuffed into such a small space.
It must weigh a pound.
The corner of the bag is opened and soon it will produce something inside.
Terry asked softly, "you didn't check it out. . .
"She went from my mother to me to my father.
"No one searched my bag," said mother.
Then she put the marijuana in the middle of the kitchen table and walked to the stove.
She raised my teapot and began to fill it with water.
"We have a lot more in the attic if you need. So, Terry . . .
Have you been to Ginnie Springs"
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