The Ganja Brownies Explained

Let me preface this little tale by stating unequivocally that I am so boring and straight that I have never even been tempted to use illegal drugs of any kind or abuse prescription drugs. There was never any positive consequence that I could see from them, and I'm wise enough in that respect to be able to benefit from others' bad experiences.

Besides, even the legal medications I've taken haven't produced anything that equals the natural high of living a life full of joy. Laughing gas was a huge disappointment -- I never even cracked a smile. Excedrin makes me feel spacey, and I absolutely loathe the jittery feeling pseudoephedrin in sinus and cold medications gives me. I'd rather suffer. I've had several prescriptions for heavy-duty painkillers that I've filled but never used, simply because I got along just fine with ibuprofen. Ibuprofen is great for headaches and other pain, and I don't have to worry about feeling all weird and loopy. I hate, HATE, HATE feeling weird and loopy because of a medication.

I've also steered clear of alcohol. Never touched a drop. That wasn't a hard decision, either, even if it was such a general part of high school life (not college. I went to Brigham Young University, and I don't think I met anyone there who drank. And yet, my friends and I had so much fun anyway!). Besides the fact that drinking alcohol is directly in contradiction to my faith as a Mormon, I know I've got alcoholics in my family tree. Even if that wasn't enough, the thought of losing control of my upper faculties always scared me to death. I never knew if I would be a social drinker or end up as an alcoholic, and it just wasn't worth it to find out, even if I had ever been tempted.

So it was with huge disappointment that I realized that marijuana did absolutely nothing for me except induce such an intense need for a nap that I almost fell asleep standing up. I mean, I get that feeling when I've spent too many nights taking care of sick kids, so there's certainly nothing novel or exciting about being dreadfully sleepy.

Little Gary, on the other hand, apparently just can't handle a little marijuana.

What happened was this: a woman whom I have met a couple times offered brownies to me and my son. Given the setting and the situation, I had no reason to suspect they were doctored, although I had begun to notice that the woman was acting high. Little Gary got three brownies, which he downed in a flash. I got one brownie, and as I chewed, I detected a distinctly herbal quality not normally found in brownies that I eat.

I asked the woman if she'd made them herself, and she said she had and then rambled on about using applesauce instead of oil. I have never noticed applesauce to cause an herbal tea flavor, and when Husband came around the corner, I told him my suspicions. We briefly considered forcing Little Gary to throw up the brownies, but didn't know how we'd manage that.

About ten minutes after eating the brownies, Little Gary was hyper. HYPER. His pupils were dilated, he was terribly thirsty, and he was manically running around like a crazy thing. We watched him for a bit, and then I suggested he get a Priesthood blessing. Husband and another man gave Little Gary a blessing right away, and immediately afterwards, Little Gary's pupils began going back to normal. His hyperactivity, however, remained quite, quite intact.

Husband went and asked the woman if she'd put marijuana in the brownies (he was furious, of course), and she denied it, though she was swaying on her feet so badly she nearly fell over. She was also questioned by two off-duty policemen, but they apparently didn't find enough reason to do anything further. The woman drove away, which was not a good idea, given her condition.

We went home and Little Gary spent a few hours running full tilt through the house until he suddenly stopped, lay down on my bed, and fell deeply asleep. I also wanted so badly to lie down and take a nap. I was not only horribly lethargic, I couldn't really think all that clearly; but I had family coming over and didn't have time to sleep when I needed to cook dinner. It was terribly unpleasant.

A week later, I got the news that the woman had confessed to baking marijuana into the brownies, although she hadn't meant to harm anyone -- especially any children. Several other kids had also been fed the brownies. I was asked not to press charges and to have mercy on her since she had told the truth. After all, we'd eaten the evidence, and she didn't have to 'fess up, but she wanted to be honest and apologize. Since no permanent harm had been done, I didn't press charges, knowing a little about this woman's history and her present difficulties in life. I ran into this woman at the store (you run into everyone in this town at the store eventually), and she apologized personally. She's gotten help since that incident. Regardless, I won't be eating anything she makes. Ever.

Wasn't that a fun little adventure? We have a new tale to tell, and Little Gary might feel a natural aversion to brownies for a long time yet. And I can keep my utter conviction that nothing that is meant to artificially increase enjoyment, happiness, or relaxation comes even close to the natural joy that dwells inside you when you're living a life you can be proud of and from which you gain so much real happiness and joy.

Those ARE Little Gary's real eyes. Undrugged. And his face is dirty as usual.