nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Real entry this time 'round

Now--for the real entry.

Yesterday we arrested 3 people attempting to steal steaks at a local grocery store. Apparently, they were heroin addicts who were hoping to then sell the meat on street corners for half price, to pay for their next fix.

Who in their right mind would buy steaks half price on the street, not knowing WHAT had been done to them? Perhaps that's the point--it's people not in the right mind who do that sort of thing to begin with.

One of the guys arrested came in after awhile to bond out and he was beyond hyped. That boy was flying higher than any plane or rocket. He literally giggled like a small girl, at nothing. It was right up there with bizarre.

That led me to thinking about drugs and the things people do for them and on them.

Growing up, my stepfather grew marijuana in our basement. We're talking full-fledged grow lights, plant food, and sterilizing the soil in our kitchen oven. You've never smelled anything as awful (or that sticks to the inside of your nose and even your tastebuds) like burning earth. It's straight up awful. I remember him placing the seeds in soaked paper towels, letting the little roots and sprouts start, then putting them delicately in little plastic cells. I remember the odor of the pot after they'd smoked it, and worse. I remember walking in on my mother with a rolled dollar bill in her hand and what looked like baking soda on the table and the look in her eyes like a deer caught in headlights. That only happened once and I'm not sure if it's because she stopped doing it or if she just hid it really well.

I'm amazed that they weren't ever caught. All the times my stepdad went to prison, none of them were drug related. The grow operation lasted all of one summer and part of the fall. I think they decided that there were enough secrets in our house to keep and that I couldn't be counted on to keep them all.

My brother K. thought it was funny, the way people acted after smoking that stuff. The laidback attitude, the occasional giggling fits from the women, the sleepy nonchalance..I hated it. I hated how it changed everything they were. That, to me, was almost as bad as the result of alcohol in our household.

The woman arrested was bonded out by her brother, a police officer from a city south of us, who related that she'd lost her kids because of this drug addiction. Lost. Her. Kids. I can only imagine how traumatic that was for her children..and when sober, how heartbreaking that should have been for her.

I just don't get it, and I think that's a good thing.

***

Trev began today much the way he began yesterday--settling into the day's tasks only after having spoken to me. The teacher called me just after the class had begun and said that he'd had a run in with another student, where the other child had poked Trevor with a pencil so my Trev bopped him with a book. *sigh*

Is it Summer yet?

***

On an entirely different note, my brain has been consumed this evening with the word "throb". What a wonderful word that is. I tend to visualize everything and my, there are many things to visualize when thinking of that word.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Tuesday. Ready for Humpday? Have to love midweek. Did I mention that I bought Pirates of the Caribbean? I haven't watched it yet, haven't seen it ever and bought it on a whim. I figured if I didn't like it, I'd give it to one of my cousins. Whimsy is a funny thing.

G'nite.

N.

8:06 p.m. - 2004-04-27

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