I never smoke marijuana around my daughter, but oftentimes she hangs out with me after I do.

Yesterday, we lost our internet for the majority of the day. Both of us walked around the house like lost little lambs. I decided to get really stoned, because there wasn’t much else better to do.

So, I was sitting at my makeshift desk when she came downstairs. She plopped down on the floor and started talking to me, your basic teenage girl chatter. I nodded and tried to follow what she was saying, but as usual when I partake in the wacky tobaccy, my thoughts turned silly.

“I should have named you Moon Glow,” I said, giggling like a schoolgirl.

I haven’t been one of those in a long time…thanks, weed!

“Wow, random,” she replied sarcastically.

“No, really….Kelly Clarkson just named her baby River Rose,” I replied, imagining how it would be to have a child named Moon Glow. I think it’s just lovely, personally.

“That’s because she’s a moron,” Baby B explained. “I’m glad you gave me a normal name.”

“My name isn’t normal,” I said, pretending to be sad by this fact.

She gave me a pained look. “No, it’s just spelled weird.”

Indeed it is, but after all of these years, I have grown to love it, even though I am rarely merry.

“Well, I still think I should have named you Moon Glow. Your father would have been so pissed!”

“Still….not worth it,” she said with conviction. “So, thanks for not naming me something dumb.”

“Sure thing, Moon Glow,” I said back, still very much baked, but not totally fried.

“Ugh, I’m going upstairs.” And with that, she was gone from whence she came.

“Talk to you later, Moony!” I called after her, the only reply her feet stomping upon the stairs.

Without internet or cable, I found myself staring at the wall, pondering the universe.

It’s huge, man.

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