All Things Profane and Sacred

There is a place in Portland that sells little kits of powdered urine and some chemical solution that heats to the correct temperature when water is added. About 6 months ago, one of J's friends needed one of these, but he was very broke, and they only sell them in two packs. J bought one to help him out, and it has sat on our bookshelf ever since. Last night the friend was in need of one, and the friend in need had weed indeed to trade for it. Just in time too-I've been jittering everywhere, trying to make arrangments and whatnot and the big panic beast is on the rampage. I feel like I really know what Bob Dylan meant when he said he had a head full of ideas that are driving him insane.

Jude the pothead dog is a whole 'nother story altogether. I had noticed that he had been acting weird, especially when visitors come over. He's been wanting to jump on everyone and everything, and he gets waaaaay too excited when he sees someone coming up the walk. I've had to lock him up, because he becomes a bouncing ball of excitement. Then it hit me-we haven't been smoking because we're poor. Our visitors haven't either, because they are also poor. But Jude associates the two-visitors and sharing a bowl-and he is that guy that asks if you've got something to smoke before he even says hello. I wish I had managed to instill some manners in him when we did obediance class. Instead he got a certificate for 'most enthusiastic' and I got a sympathetic look. Thank god Pogo just says no. I have a limit of one stoner dog of the apocalypse per household.