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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.”
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.


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