Ol’ Betsy

July 13, 2013 at 11:33 am (Cosmic Encounters)

Ol' BetsyNow that I am legal, I don’t worry too much about people knowing that I imbibe in the herb. I’ve been a proponent since the teen years of the ’70s, and have always believed in its medicinal purposes. But just because it’s medicine doesn’t mean it can’t be fun!

Now that crops can be grown peacefully without much fear of law enforcement raiding your closet or backyard, things have gotten better. Strains are cross-bred, you can pick and choose the type of effect you want, down to the color of the bud. (Deep Purple? Smoke on the water indeed.) Part of the fun is naming all these strains. Who wouldn’t love some Fruity Chronic Juice? Star Trek? Boldly go where, uh, what was I saying? Not all names are winners. I refuse to smoke anything named Portland Dog Shit on general principles.

When I saw this strain at the clinic, I had to smile the smile of someone overloaded on brownies and wax-dabs. Is there a prankster in my world?

I have an old friend named Betsy, and I think of her often. Is her weed anything like her? Well, let’s see: Strong? Holy shit yeah, knock you on your ass. Tasty? Oh yeah, but I’m shutting up about that. Relaxing? Incredibly so, but too much will put you in a coma. (Much like those last puns I try to slip in…)

I bought the last of Ol’ Betsy, and I am saving the jar for storing special strains. It will be a long while before I see this jar and not smile. I have some mighty fond memories of Betsy. Smoking her namesake won’t cloud any of those.

Hope you are well, my friend. (Although I know you are.)

Winky emoticon.

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