I didn't have a bong until this year, so this is new. We had one when the kids were small, but somewhere we switched to a pipe and never went back. You tempt me with the joints. All the theater and ceremony involved in rolling a joint brings Dale into the room with me. He loved ceremony in daily life, the grinding of the coffee and preparing the press, the cups. Everything in place, everything flowing.
Tattooing has ceremony. Cleaning the surfaces, laying everything out. Methodically building the machines and tuning them to the proper tone. Ceremony. His world, under his calm, deliberate control. Something he knew he had control over. Unlike the body he was losing control of.
Model trains were his passion. The chance to play God on the miniature scale. I gave them to a local train club and I'll be seeing them this weekend in their holiday display. Life goes on.
Before I began growing I saved everything...seeds, stems and especially roaches. There were so many rainy days. So many times I had to wait for someone else being totally dependent on good timing. Today I'm mostly a pipe user but I do occasionally roll one but I'm still not one to waste anything. I'm going to spend a day here soon hand crumbling dry buds for more kief or wax. I have very little of either of those left and I so enjoy vaping or smoking those concentrates.
