Smokin' Mama

Waiting anxiously for the bus this morning at 11.30 (yeah, I got to sleep in), I couldn't help but notice the only other idlers at the stop: a mother, bright blue earmuffs contrasting with her overprocessed hair, and her two-year-old son, tightly bundled against the mild breeze. She scolded him numerous times for walking too close to the edge of the sidewalk, when he was only following her as she stood on the side to look for the bus.

Taking a call, I turned away, and wouldn't have looked back were it not for the stench of marijuana smoke soon drifting by my nose. At first, I thought it might be coming from one of the apartments behind me, but no--there she was, brazenly holding a doobie. In broad daylight, on a streetcorner. Waiting for the bus. With her two-year-old child.

Who does that? So many things about the situation bother me: why she thought it would be okay to smoke pot on the street. Why she's smoking pot around her child. Or at all, at her age (in her 30s, I would have guessed). Need I go on?

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In other news, in less than a month I'll be heading to Prague, Budapest and Ljubljana via London with my friend Marissa and her friend Michelle. Three girls, four countries, eight days. I'm growing more excited (yet nervous) by the day.

And finally, in my stupid LiveJournal I've completed an end-of-the-year questionnaire. If you have hours to while away might I suggest you take a gander.