Potpourri



My mother's living room

I noticed a peculiar smell almost immediately when I was having dinner at my parent’s house last night. I assumed it was the Orzo salad being made, as my Mom was throwing all sorts of mint and whatnot in there. But upon clearing the dishes I stumbled upon what couldn’t be!!! Pot!!!! In my mother’s kitchen!!!! Displayed in an exquisitely ornate, decorative dish!

“Mom!!!” I exclaimed excitedly. “You have pot!!!”

 

“That’s not pot.” She said, dryly.  “It’s potpourri. It’s French and very expensive. I saw it in several model homes and had to order it special. I just love the way it smells!!!!”

“Huh.” I said taking in a big, pronounced whiff. “To me, it smells like a head shop. Or the backseat of a taxi cab.  How much you pay for that pot?” I asked.

“It’s not pot. And it was almost $80 for a big bag.”

“Huh. You are better off just buying real pot. It’s much cheaper. I know a kid from high school. He actually doesn’t live too far from here.”

“MEGAN!!! It’s NOT POT!”

And then I spent the rest of the evening taking pictures of myself smoking the French potpourri and texting them to my brother with captions like "420 at Mom's house!"

Rolling a Potpourri Fatty

 

420 at Mom's House!

Overall, it was a pretty good night.