Our Neighbor's Weeds

Last night was the Kindergarten parent orientation night, so Todd and I went to Devin's school to hear all about things like core knowledge, D'Nelian handwriting, self-managers and how things are done at his elementary school. It was very interesting and I feel like a (mostly) prepared mommy of a Kindergartener.

On our way home, though, Todd and I had quite the encounter. As we were driving through our neighborhood, we began to smell smoke. As we rounded a corner, we saw a house on the main street that had smoke billowing from the backyard. I mean just pouring out of there. It was incredible.

Todd slammed the car into park and jumped out to run around to the back of this house. While he did so, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911. But as I was directed to the correct department, Todd came around the corner of the house, waving his arms as if to say, "False alarm." I apologized to the 911 operator and told her that no, indeed, there was no fire.

Todd got into the car and informed me that there was just a man sitting in his back yard, burning stuff in his chiminea. The man had told Todd that all was well, that there was no out-of-control fire and thanked him for checking on the situation.

So we pulled down our street and walked into the house (Todd's parents were watching the kids). We told Grandma and Grandpa about what had happened and Todd said, "There was so much smoke, I even reek of it!"

I walked over and took a sniff of my husband's shirt. As I sniffed, he sniffed too, and we both just sort of stopped and looked at one another. That wasn't just any kind of smoke coming from that backyard.

I am not, and never have been, a drug user. I've just never understood the allure and even through innumerable college fraternity parties, I never tried any sort of illegal drugs. I felt like a real wild woman when I bought a pack of cigarettes once. I'm pretty mild, to say the least.

But just because I don't smoke weed, doesn't mean that I don't know what it smells like. There was plenty of it at the aforementioned frat parties, as well as pretty much anywhere along fraternity (and even sorority) row.

And if I had never smelled it before, then I certainly smelled it a lot on our honeymoon in Jamaica.

So I am familiar with the odor and I knew what it was as soon as I took a whiff of Todd's shirt. Holy smokes (no pun intended)! That guy was totally burning out his entire backyard!

Todd and I laughed so hard that my hysterical spouse even went over to the next-door neighbor's house (who happens to be a police officer) to ask for his opinion. Billy confirmed that, indeed, that was the small of marijuana and suggested that this guy may have found the drug in his kid's backpack and was "teaching him a lesson" by burning it in the chiminea. In doing so, though, he was managing to get the entire block stoned.

I couldn't resist writing this down -- it was just so funny and so typical of something that would happen to us. Despite our living in suburbia USA with homeowners' associations, minivans and disposable income, we still manage to live a few houses down from the guy who believes everyone should be enlightened by the use of a controlled substance.

I'm outta here now...I have a sudden craving for Doritos.

PS - No, we haven't moved yet. I'll upload pictures as soon as I unpack the USB cable for my camera. It might be awhile, so don't hold your breath (unless you're sitting outside with my neighbor...in that case, take a deep breath and hold it in as long as you can).