Yesterday I made "work-grade' reefer cookies in a bid to find the right blend that will let me smile my way through the wicked 7.5 hours. Half my mind was on the inevitable day (which I estimate to be five years away in Canada, but I'm an optimist) when it's legalized and I can sit around baking cookies for a living. Imagine.
Oh hell, I got no business plan, I just want to combine my twin loves of reefer and cookies RIGHT NOW. Anyways, the molasses is getting a little too pervasive in the recipes. That having been said, last night's batch left me smiling - maybe a mite too tight for work - and with that desperately creative "oh my god I have soooo much to tell the world and I have to write it down before I forget it" rush one gets for the first couple of years one smokes reefer - like Paul McCartney scribbling down "everything is a circle" or something and giving it to that cabbie - ah, Cali, ask Mr. S what is was, my memory is shot.