A Friday ramble

So many things in the news catch my attention and then swirl on through before I have a chance to record them here. Life comes at you fast. Yesterday for example, President Joe Biden commuted the sentences of everyone who had been jailed for marijauna use, long overdue in my opinion, given how variable those sentences were depending on race and socio-economic standing, and the fact that cannabis is now legal in much of the country. I still won't smoke any myself, because back when I did, I loved it too much, and I'm addictive by nature, so I will remain abstinent. I will also pray that those who do choose to use have a lovely heart-opening experience, and aren't nudged over the edge into some mental health crisis, as two boys I know were, though who knows it if was the pot that did it; they might have been slipping into crisis anyway and were trying to self-medicate. 

My children now know my whole addiction and 12-step getting sober story. "Why didn't you ever tell us when we were growing up?" they wanted to know. 

"Because if I had told you I was an addict, while telling you not to use drugs, you would have said, well you turned out fine, so what's the harm?" 

"Or, it might have convinced us that you knew what you were talking about," my son countered.

"Plus we have that family propensity to become addicted to substances," I reminded him, which I guess was a sort of non-sequitur. 

Fortunately for my catastrophic thinking brain, my son doesn't do any substances since, as a firefighter, he is subject to random drug tests, and my daughter doesn't enjoy how pot makes her feel. Yes, they both admitted to me that they had dabbled back in high school, when I thought they were both virtuously resisting peer pressure. Silly me. The things children admit to their parents once everyone is grown will make you give thanks that their guardian angels saw fit to work lots of overtime. Our boy has more stories than our girl, as our daughter as a teen tended to blurt out everything, while her brother rolled his eyes and said, "Why on earth are you telling them that?"

Well, that was a stream of consciousness post. I certainly never intended to write here this morning about my actively addicted twenties, but there you go. 

My daughter just sent me that picture of sweet pup Munch on their early walk in Halloween-ready Brooklyn. My girl and her love were both in bed sick this week; probably their bodies were exhausted after their whirlwind of attending four weddings in different cities in the span of a single month. They didn't know if they’d caught covid again, but they were too sick to go out and get tests. Finally yesterday they bought some at-home kits, and both of them tested negative. So I suppose they had the flu. Both are almost back to fighting form and feeling better for their week of enforced rest.

In other news, we're about to embark on a bathroom refresh. To the great relief of my husband, I’ve moved on from the idea of ocean blue hex tile floors (as in the picture) with a wavy white wall tile. It's a tiny bathroom, so maybe that would be just too much decor for the space.  I suppose simple is better, or at least safer. I can always bring in the sea blues through towels and a well-chosen shower curtain. As I've often noted, you can take the girl out of the Caribbean but you can’t take the Caribbean out of the girl.