Khat, as you now know, is a kind of leaf used as a mild social stimulant in some countries and cultures where alcohol is forbidden. I chewed some recently. There was mail.

Here, I merely note that the current problems in Yemen are not caused by khat; rather, I suggest that khat use in Yemen is the direct result of other problems.

But one dear reader wondered if I’ve had any recent experiences with pot. Oh, well, I am more than happy to talk about cannabis, especially now that Montreal has taken the lead and established a medical marijuana users’ registry, for the purposes of study and research.

Here is my anecdotal contribution.

I once had, in my possession, a couple of happy chocolates.

Never mind how I got them. The person who gave them to me said they were pretty strong, and I ought not to take a whole one; half would do for me. Mark this: I am not at all interested in getting high.

I am, however, very interested in a good night’s sleep, and maybe a little relief from my arthritis. And so, one Friday night after a particularly miserable week, when a bowl of pasta and a glass of wine did nothing to calm my nerves or soothe my aching bones, I thought to try one of the chocolates. Not the suggested half, but a quarter-piece.

Nothing much happened.

And then I found myself sitting in front of the TV eating the most delicious Cheezies of my life while watching an endlessly fascinating documentary about otters.

The combination of Cheezies and otters in water made me thirsty, so I tried to get up and I could not. I was pinned to the chair.

I thought it best to try to get to bed. It took me forever to climb the stairs. And then it took as much planning as I could muster to find the bed and lie down in it. I was pretty stoned. I did not like the feeling.

It took me a while to fall asleep but, oh, the ravelled sleeve of care was knitted far better that night than it has been in a long time.

Could I have been a bit more careful? Yes. Here’s the point: eating cannabis is not the same as smoking it, and what I had that night was not the cannabis I remembered from my youth.

Oh. I see. You’re judgmental. Have you never had a hangover? A hangover is the result of an overdose of alcohol. Yes, and if booze was invented tomorrow, we’d never get any.

I think that if we are to legalize the cannabis in all its forms — and we surely should — then we need to work out a way to determine the strength of what’s available, in much the same way we do with drink. Because a glass of wine is not a bottle of gin.

Here’s a second story:

A short while back I was stricken with a case of the blues. It happens now and then. I have no explanation for the black dog that follows me. This time, rather than hide my head under the pillow and weep, it occurred to me that I still had some of that chocolate, and that among the many uses of cannabis is the relief of anxiety.

I had the merest sliver.

An hour later? You know how it is you when you step outdoors into the early light, and the air is cool on your face, and the rays of the sun are so many golden molecules of joy?

Just like that.

So, two recent experiences with cannabis; one not so much fun, although it gave me a superior night’s sleep; and another which adjusted my mood far better than a stiff drink.

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In conclusion?

Legalize the stuff, but find a useful way to measure its potency, especially when it comes to edibles.