Weeds and a Walk

Last weekend I went to my Mom's house. I woke up Saturday morning and started to clean the kitchen and notice that there was something in the sink, defrosting.  I opened the bag and found this:

I know, horrible picture, but my phone sucks. It's a ziplock bag of green stuff, labeled: WEEDS.

What the hell.

I turn to my mom and ask, "What's with the WEEDS?" She replies, "I know, there's tons of it in the freezer. I asked Hardy (mom's boyfriend): Is there something I need to know? Are we storing marijuana in the freezer now?"

I just about shit my pants.

My mom just said marijuana.

I'm like, mom, no one says 'marijuana', it's called 'pot'.

And here's her reply, which by the way isn't that much better than having pot in the freezer: "oh, it's really milkweed, Hardy says it's amazing. It's like a delicacy."

Really?! Milkweed?!

Who in the Christ All Heaven eats milkweed?

Well, apparently Hardy does. Along with all Native Americans. They fight over it. Seriously.

I say this all the time, it should be a theme with me now, but....You can't make this shit up.

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I was having a pity party earlier and a good friend of mine said this (after I complained about not exercising for like, ever): "take some walks solely for the purpose of being out in nature, relax, breathe."

So that's what I did. I came home, grabbed the leash and made Puppy's day by going out on a little jaunt. Here he is, half way through:

Note Blaze Orange collar and camo leash. Could we be more hick?

He thinks he's about to die because he's had 'strenuous' physical excursion for a total of 10 minutes and I'm abusing him because I forgot to bring his trusted water bottle to drink out of.

I told him to buck up.