Hey kids. Leave your boots by the door and set your coats on the radiator – I made Butterballs. Maaaaaaaaaaan, I’ve been missing you. It’s superduper Wintery up here in the Cascade mountains of Oregon – just like it’s s’posta be because it’s Winter and all. The days are short and while my will to live is way-high, my will to change out of yoga pants and leave this house is remarkably low. I’m glad you came by so I don’t have to move. This is perfect.
My most productive hobby, of late, has been to find new and clever ways to get better performance out of a body that is pretty-much in full-on rebellion. Arched back, stomping heels into filthy linoleum, ear-piercing shriek of a physical hissy fit it is, and it often calls the shots.
My body is furious with me and I’m cool with that, given the alternatives. There’s some old war wounds and some new working-too-much monkeys that proved to be great real estate for test-driving some of this $40 salve I was able to legally procure from my local dispenser.
The Bad Knee happened 40 years ago and never got put back together right so it’s some sweet bone-on-bone action up in there and usually just feels like a little pocket knife, not a big boning knife or anything, is jammed just up to the left of my kneecap. Sometimes it cripples, but duct tape, bracing and time fix it fine. The Salve (that I really can’t identify from the labeling and sorta wished they’d work with me on getting something a little more clear) was, for real – The Shiznit on that stabbing pain. It made me smile at my knee for, like, a whole 2 hours. Then it wanted more. I was also writing, not hustling through a station with gear or something, so I’ll know more when I’m back in orbit.
The Abdomen Alien is some seriously pissed-off old scar tissue from a couple things that tried to kill me. It is a bit more than a nuisance and I had my doubts, strongass doubts, that this salve could possibly do anything. It both did and did not disappoint – the old scars near the surface, did stop screaming for a bit. It didn’t do jack for the more serious pain BUT (and this is a big OL’HUGE BUT) I contend that a huge part of pain management can be found in chilling.the.fuck.out. I can’t see how a topical absorption of THC and CBD could be anything BUT good for chilling. Sooo…. who’s to say if I’m not crying less because my system is processing more cannabis. I dunno. I’m just an old white lady spinning words in a tower, looking for kindness, truth and a freakin’break from the alien in me belly.
The maybe I work-too-much monkeys that live on each shoulder are probably the most common ailment I hear the islanders talk about, and I can tell you: IF for no other reason than this alone: BUT THIS STUFF. Holy cow and yes please. I also generously shared with the soles of my feet before I tucked them into fat wool socks and I discovered that my usage of the word “Fuck” drop by 48% within the first hour.
With frequent reapplication, (including soles of feet and extending to my temples and forehead) I noticed that I no longer noticed and was in a way-better mood, writing shinier sentences … donating to kickstarters. Seriously. I think I recommend this stuff.
It did, for certain and without doubt, kick all kinds of ass on these old arthritic hands. That rocked. In fact, all the old broken bones responded well to this. Truthfully: I’m just kinda surprised at the outcome, I thought this rubbing it all over you thing was just kinda silly and excessive. Maybe not.
I’m lucky to have no shortage of both empirical and anecdotal data on this stuff and I’m more than happy to share. Next time we’ll talk about what I’ve seen in sexy-time cannabis; It’s gonna crack you all the way up what the kids are doing these days. Bring that bourbon your son gave you for Christmas, I’ll put out some flowers.