They’re calling for a high of 100°F today, and it’s already pushing 95°F—the kind of heat that presses against the windows and makes the air feel thick and still. Definitely an air conditioning kind of day.
Morning Routine
This morning I cleaned up a good amount of flower for my sativa stash, the sharp, earthy scent lingering as I worked. Now everything’s stocked, neatly arranged, and within reach. There’s something satisfying about that quiet order—like setting the tone for a long, slow day.
Before the heat fully settled in, I gave the front yard a 20-minute watering, the hose hissing as the soil soaked it up. The grass darkened just enough to look alive again. Hopefully it holds until tomorrow night—every drop counts in weather like this, and I don’t need the water cops knocking on my door or emailing me.
Home Comfort
I also washed all my bedding—comforter, pillows, and sheets—so everything is fresh and cool to the touch. That clean, soft smell is hard to beat, especially knowing I’ll be sinking into it later. I just wish I had someone to share it with.
Evening Plan
Now the plan is simple: stay inside, stay cool, and let the AC hum in the background while I ride out the heat. 🌞❄️
When you’ve been around cannabis long enough, you learn that consistency is worth its weight in gold.
I’ve visited plenty of dispensaries over the years, but one place has continued to earn my business: Green Cross of Cherry Creek.
This isn’t a paid endorsement. It’s simply my experience as a longtime customer who appreciates quality products, knowledgeable budtenders, and a dispensary that has stood the test of time.
A Colorado Original
Green Cross of Cherry Creek has been serving Colorado cannabis consumers for well over a decade. In an industry that’s constantly evolving, that kind of longevity doesn’t happen by accident.
They’re a licensed Colorado dispensary offering both medical and recreational cannabis, with a wide selection that includes:
● Premium flower
● Vape cartridges
● Concentrates
● Edibles
● Topicals
● Pre-rolls
● Accessories
Whether you’re looking for a budget-friendly eighth or something special for the weekend, there’s usually a good selection available.
Customer Service Still Matters
One of the biggest reasons I keep coming back is the staff.
I’ve always found them to be approachable, knowledgeable, and willing to answer questions without making customers feel rushed. That kind of service makes a difference, especially for people who are still learning about cannabis or trying new products.
Why They’ve Earned My Trust
Trust isn’t built during one visit.
It’s built over years of consistent experiences.
For me, Green Cross has delivered:
● Reliable quality
● Competitive pricing
● Friendly customer service
● An established reputation in Colorado’s cannabis community
Those are the reasons they’ve remained one of my preferred dispensaries.
My Final Take
Colorado has no shortage of dispensaries.
The ones that survive year after year usually do so because they’ve built lasting relationships with their customers.
Green Cross of Cherry Creek has earned my respect through consistency, professionalism, and a commitment to serving the cannabis community.
If you’re exploring dispensaries in the Denver area, they’re certainly worth considering.
About the Author
BenJammin is the creator of GravitySucksBigTime.com, where he writes about life after a traumatic brain injury and stroke, disability, cannabis, recovery, home projects, and finding humor in everyday life.
There’s something satisfying about ending an errand on your own terms instead of squeezing in “just one more stop.” A good lunch at home beats fast food any day, especially when you’re already looking forward to relaxing. It gave me a chance to recharge, appreciate that my body had cooperated, and enjoy the small victory of getting out, getting what I needed, and making it home without pain stealing the spotlight.
I kept it simple and had a basic Lunchable for lunch—nothing fancy, but it hit the spot. Sometimes that’s all you need: something easy, familiar, and quick so you can settle in and enjoy the moment without overdoing it.
And honestly, after all that, a nap would be proper. When you’re still healing, rest isn’t optional—it’s part of the process. Sometimes the best way to cap off a successful outing is to lean into that calm, let your body recover, and enjoy the quiet. Today, lunch at home wasn’t just a meal—it was the reward for a trip that went exactly the way I’d hoped, and the perfect lead-in to a well-earned nap.
This morning started with a workout, and I’m calling that a victory. I finished feeling pretty good, even if my leg is still barking at me. It’s not completely on board with the plan yet, but I got the work done anyway.
I’ll take that as a win.
Recovery isn’t always measured by silence. Sometimes it’s measured by showing up, putting in the effort, and proving to yourself that the engine still starts, even if one of the tires keeps complaining. Today was one of those days.
The day got rolling early again. I had the backyard sprinklers going by 6:00 AM, giving the grass another drink before the Colorado sun could take over.
After that, I cleaned the bathroom to get the house ready for our incoming guests. It always feels good to cross a job like that off the list.
I also put the basement door back in place. The only thing left is reinstalling the left-side door strip, but it’s back where it belongs and looking much better.
Later, Claire, Dakota, and I made a trip to Kohl’s. We picked out a new shower rug, shower curtain, and liner to freshen up the bathroom. Once we got home, I did a little more scrubbing to get everything looking just right.
One thing definitely didn’t make the favorites list: Dakota’s Dr. Squatch soap. I don’t care for the scent at all. To me, that stuff flat-out stinks. It also seemed to leave more residue than I’m used to, so cleaning the shower wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement. Dakota can have it. I’ll happily stick with my own soap.
By the end of the day, the backyard got its water, the bathroom got a makeover, a few home projects moved forward, and we enjoyed a family trip to Kohl’s. Not every day has to be exciting. Sometimes checking things off the list and sharing a few laughs is more than enough.
Some days are packed with big accomplishments. Other days are stitched together with little victories, unexpected detours, and stories you couldn’t make up if you tried.
I started the day by rescheduling an appointment online through a text message. Pretty cool, actually. They’ll be here Friday to replace the button that decided to call it quits last night.
Even better, my left hamstring woke up feeling about 90%. After the last couple of weeks, that felt like a major milestone. I also got the backyard grass watered before the heat rolled in. The grass seed is looking pretty awesome after a good soaking yesterday and another drink today. It’s satisfying to see all that work starting to pay off.
A V8 Energy helped keep the morning rolling, although by the time the can was nearly empty, I was feeling like I’d already put in a full day’s work… and it wasn’t even 9:00 a.m.
I decided to sample a little of my Roxanne strain before settling in for a well-earned nap. Sometimes the best thing you can do for healing is simply get out of your own way and let your body recharge.
The nap did its job.
Of course, waking up somehow led to cleaning my one-hitter, because apparently that’s how my brain defines “taking it easy.” The moment I cracked it open, the old resin reminded me it had been waiting for some attention. During the cleaning, I managed to coat my left hand with a giant glob of sticky resin. It took a determined round of soap and scrubbing to win that battle, but eventually the tar surrendered.
With clean hands, a clean one-hitter, and my dignity mostly intact, I wrapped up the afternoon watching Forged in Fire on the HISTORY Channel.
Looking back, it was a good day. My hamstring is healing, the backyard is getting greener, the one-hitter is clean again, and I even squeezed in a restorative nap.
Some days are packed with big accomplishments. Other days are stitched together with little victories, unexpected detours, and stories you couldn’t make up if you tried.
I started the day by rescheduling an appointment online through a text message. Pretty cool, actually. They’ll be here Friday to replace the button that decided to call it quits last night.
Even better, my left hamstring woke up feeling about 90%. After the last couple of weeks, that felt like a major milestone. I also got the backyard grass watered before the heat rolled in. The grass seed is looking pretty awesome after a good soaking yesterday and another drink today. It’s satisfying to see all that work starting to pay off.
A V8 Energy helped keep the morning rolling, although by the time the can was nearly empty, I was feeling like I’d already put in a full day’s work… and it wasn’t even 9:00 a.m.
I decided to sample a little of my Roxanne strain before settling in for a well-earned nap. Sometimes the best thing you can do for healing is simply get out of your own way and let your body recharge.
The nap did its job.
Of course, waking up somehow led to cleaning my one-hitter, because apparently that’s how my brain defines “taking it easy.” The moment I cracked it open, the old resin reminded me it had been waiting for some attention. During the cleaning, I managed to coat my left hand with a giant glob of sticky resin. It took a determined round of soap and scrubbing to win that battle, but eventually the tar surrendered.
With clean hands, a clean one-hitter, and my dignity mostly intact, I wrapped up the afternoon watching Forged in Fire on the HISTORY Channel.
Looking back, it was a good day. My hamstring is healing, the backyard is getting greener, the one-hitter is clean again, and I even squeezed in a restorative nap.
A light soaking isn’t just about how much rain fell. It’s about what it means after the kind of morning you had.
You were out at dawn, irrigating half the backyard. You wrestled a sprinkler tractor that reminded your hamstring who’s boss. Then, instead of the sky staying stubbornly blue, you heard those first raindrops on the roof.
It’s almost as if the weather looked over the fence and said, “You’ve carried enough buckets today. I’ll take the next shift.”
Sure, it wasn’t a gully washer. But it was a little relief at exactly the right moment.
Around your place, I’d call that a Rock Solid Rain Bonus. Not enough to flood the gutters, but enough to make the grass smile, the dust settle, and your back think, “Maybe we’re done hauling things for today.”
Sometimes the best rain isn’t the storm that makes the news. It’s the one that quietly whispers, “You can rest now.”
Version 2
The more I think about it, the more I appreciate it.
A light soaking isn’t just about the amount of rain that falls. It’s about what it means after a morning like mine.
I was out before sunrise watering half the backyard, then wrestled the sprinkler tractor around until my hamstring reminded me it still has opinions. Just when I was wondering if the effort was worth it, I heard the first raindrops tapping on the roof.
It wasn’t a downpour, and it won’t make the evening news, but it was enough. Enough to give the lawn a helping hand. Enough to settle the dust. Enough to let me park the sprinkler tractor and give my back and hamstring a well-earned break.
Sometimes the best rain isn’t the storm that soaks everything. It’s the gentle shower that arrives at exactly the right moment and quietly says, “I’ve got it from here.”
Version three
Before I could even finish my morning coffee, I was out in the backyard playing tug-of-war with the sprinkler tractor. Whoever designed that thing clearly skipped the chapter on ergonomics. My hamstring has since filed a formal complaint, my back signed it as a witness, and both are demanding hazard pay.
Then, just as I was wondering whether I should move the sprinkler again or simply negotiate with the grass, I heard it.
Tap… tap… tap…
Rain.
Not a thunderstorm. Not a monsoon. More like Mother Nature cracking open a water bottle and saying, “Here, don’t spend it all in one place.”
I’ll take it.
The lawn got a free drink, the dust settled down, and the sprinkler tractor was officially relieved of duty for the afternoon. Around here, that’s what we call a successful labor negotiation.
Would I have preferred a good old-fashioned Colorado gully washer? Absolutely.
But after wrestling yard equipment before breakfast, even a light soaking feels like the universe saying, “You’ve done enough. Clock out before your hamstring starts writing letters to management.”
Dakota signed a lease—and I got the grand tour of his new apartment at the Castle Rock Promenade.
Standing there and walking through the place made it official.
It’s real.
As a parent, there are moments that sneak up on you. One day you’re helping your kid figure out the next step, and the next you’re standing in their very own apartment, realizing they’re building a life of their own.
It’s exciting.
It’s a little surreal.
And yes…there’s a little bit of “Where did the years go?” mixed in there.
I’m proud of Dakota for taking this step. Signing a lease is more than getting an apartment. It’s a commitment, a responsibility, and another chapter of becoming independent.
Congratulations, Dakota!
Here’s to new beginnings, new memories, and a place to call your own.
Some days don’t ask for permission. They just show up with a wrench.
The morning started with the plumbing company arriving to replace a broken water shutoff valve. It looked like a straightforward repair… until it wasn’t.
As the work progressed, the real problem revealed itself. The valve wasn’t the only issue. About a foot below the valve assembly, a soldered connection also needed repair. That’s the kind of surprise no homeowner enjoys, but I’d rather have it discovered now than after the washer is hooked up and water is flowing.
With the plumbing repaired properly, I contacted Home Depot and rescheduled the washer installation for July 6. It’s not the finish line I expected today, but at least the project is moving forward instead of standing still.
Owning a home has a way of reminding you that every “quick fix” has the potential to become an adventure. Today’s lesson? Sometimes you have to repair the foundation before you can enjoy the upgrade.
Progress isn’t always measured by what gets installed. Sometimes it’s measured by what gets fixed first.
Today’s Scorecard
✅ Broken valve replaced
✅ Hidden solder connection identified and repaired
✅ Washer installation rescheduled for July 6
✅ Another chapter in the never-ending Homeowner Chronicles
Gravity still sucks… but at least the plumbing doesn’t leak anymore.
I have officially reached the point where I think Mother Nature has been studying my watering schedule.
Every time I think I’ve got the lawn figured out, she changes the rules.
One day it’s 95 degrees.
The humidity drops to 15%.
Then comes that relentless afternoon breeze that seems determined to pull every last drop of moisture out of the soil.
It feels like she’s leaning over my backyard fence with a grin, saying:
“Nice watering schedule you’ve got there. It’d be a shame if I sent 95 degrees, 15% humidity, and a stiff afternoon breeze.”
This season has been a battle.
I’ve adjusted my Orbit watering system, watched the forecasts, watered before sunrise, reseeded bare spots, mowed to keep the HOA happy, and crossed my fingers every time a storm cloud appeared on the radar.
Some days the lawn looks like it’s making a comeback.
Other days it looks like Mother Nature won another round.
The truth is, Colorado summers don’t hand out participation trophies. Between the blazing sun, low humidity, and nonstop wind, keeping a lawn healthy can feel like a full-time job.
But I’m not waving the white flag.
The plan now is simple:
Keep the healthy grass alive.
Give the struggling areas a fighting chance.
Remember that fall is often Colorado’s real lawn-growing season.
If you’ve been fighting the same battle this year, you’re not alone. Sometimes the scoreboard favors Mother Nature.
For now.
I’ll be back in the yard tomorrow morning, coffee in one hand, hose timer in the other, ready for the next inning.
Some days start with a plan. Other days start with an idea that keeps bouncing around your head until you either do it or talk yourself out of it.
Today’s idea was a familiar one: a possible morning bud run to Green Cross in Cherry Creek.
I’ve been making that trip for about seven years. That’s long enough to know the route, the rhythms of Denver traffic, and whether the drive is going to be worth it. Living in Castle Rock means it isn’t exactly around the corner, and most days the distance feels longer than the map suggests.
Still, every now and then the stars line up.
Under perfect driving conditions, I’ve made the trip door to door in about an hour. It doesn’t happen often, but when traffic cooperates, the Mini Cooper seems to know the way.
Part of the attraction is the famous “$7 real meal deal.” Finding quality flower at a good price never gets old. A bargain always feels a little sweeter when it comes after years of knowing what works for you.
The funniest part of the day had nothing to do with cannabis.
My phone’s spellcheck decided to introduce someone named “Brian” into the conversation. There is no Brian. I have no idea who Brian is. Apparently, my keyboard thought he deserved a speaking role anyway. Technology keeps life interesting.
Whether tomorrow becomes a dispensary day or not, today’s conversation reminded me that routines have value. Seven years of visiting the same place has taught me what I like, what I’m looking for, and when the drive simply isn’t worth making.
Sometimes the journey matters.
Sometimes the destination matters.
And sometimes the biggest story of the day is wondering who invited Brian. :::writing
If you’d like, I can also add your usual “Today’s Wins,” “Looking Ahead,” and “BenJammin’s Take” sections to keep it consistent with your other journal entries.
Indica, keeper of calmer skies, Painting twilight behind tired eyes. You ask no tribute from the weary soul, Only the chance to become whole.
You know the language mountains speak When granite chooses not to compete With every wind that begs to roar. You simply wait, and nothing more.
You gather daylight by its fraying seams, Mending the hems of broken dreams. You fold the hours with patient hands, Like an old quilt stitched from quieter lands.
The porch grows wider in your care. The crickets find their evening prayer. Coffee becomes memory. Tea becomes company. Silence becomes enough.
You are not the night.
You are the lantern hanging from its porch.
Not forgetfulness.
Remembrance.
The kind that recalls a father’s laugh, A faithful dog asleep at your feet, The smell of rain on thirsty earth, The first star brave enough to appear.
Storms still exist.
You never promised otherwise.
But beneath your watch, their thunder drifts farther away, Until even sorrow speaks in a gentler voice.
Indica, keeper of calmer skies, Painting twilight behind tired eyes.
When tomorrow arrives with its pockets full of noise, Its sharp corners and hurried clocks,
Leave me one corner of evening, One steady chair, One patient breeze, One sky you’ve faithfully kept,
The day got off to a great start with a good shower. Sometimes that’s all it takes to feel human again before tackling the day.
After getting cleaned up, I headed outside for a watering session in the yard. The lawn got its turn, and everything was looking pretty good when I finished.
I also took another step toward modernizing my watering setup. I jumped onto Amazon and ordered two Orbit Wi-Fi hose timers. Amazon had a deal where buying two cost the same as buying one, so that was an easy decision.
Claire was ready to get moving after our long day yesterday, so she was encouraging me to hurry up and finish the order. Mission accomplished.
The package is supposed to arrive by 6:00 p.m., which gives me plenty of time to get everything installed and tested. Since I already have an Orbit Hub, setup should be a complete no-brainer. Once they’re paired, I’ll be able to control my sprinklers and hoses right from my phone.
If everything goes according to plan, the new watering system will officially go live in two days when my regular watering schedule starts. It’s pretty amazing how far this technology has come. Instead of dragging hoses around and watching the clock, the Orbit system will handle the schedule while I focus on enjoying the yard.
I’ll post an update once everything is installed and running. Sometimes progress comes in big moments. Other times, it’s a hot shower, a watered lawn, and a little technology making life easier.
Today wasn’t about big accomplishments. It was about recognizing the small signs that recovery is moving in the right direction.
A welcome overnight downpour gave the backyard a much-needed drink, allowing me to postpone most of the watering until later in the day. I still hand-watered a few dry spots, but Mother Nature handled most of the heavy lifting.
Most of the day centered on my left hamstring. It’s still talking to me, but not nearly as loudly as it has been. I noticed several encouraging signs: I could keep my leg extended longer before the pain showed up, the heating pad on the warm setting brought real relief, and my left butt cheek wasn’t hurting by the afternoon. None of those are headline-grabbing milestones, but together they paint a picture of gradual progress.
The biggest challenge continues to be patience. Not being able to work out the way I want is frustrating, but healing has become today’s workout. I also realized I’ve needed a nap four days in a row. Rather than fighting it, I’m choosing to see that extra rest as part of the recovery process instead of a setback. The nap turned out to be time well spent.
Missy added a little comic relief. She sampled the flower garden by eating grass, then promptly decided to return it a short time later. After a couple of rounds of throwing up, she was back to her normal self as if nothing had happened.
Looking back, today reinforced a simple lesson: progress isn’t always measured in miles or milestones. Sometimes it’s measured in a few extra minutes without pain, a good nap, a warm heating pad, a rainstorm that saves some work, and a dog who reminds you that life has a sense of humor. Those small victories are worth celebrating because they add up over time.
First thing this morning, I picked up my completed DMV medical forms from the doctor’s office. One more hurdle cleared. I also went online and scheduled my DMV appointment for Saturday, July 5, at 10:00 AM. After making multiple trips and waiting more than a week for paperwork, it’s amazing that what should amount to a 15-minute transaction has turned into an eight-day project. That’s bureaucracy for you.
I considered leaving negative feedback when I was asked about my experience, but decided against it. The comments would have been attached to my name, and with Claire working just across the street, it simply wasn’t worth creating unnecessary friction. Sometimes it’s better to finish the race than argue with the course.
This afternoon brought another round of weather roulette. Forecasters have been warning of heavy rain for days, but all we’ve managed to see is a few minutes of light mist. Rather than gamble on promises from the sky, I gave the newly seeded lawn a thorough watering. If a good rain finally arrives tonight, great. If not, at least the grass seed won’t be waiting on a forecast that never showed up.
Some days don’t make headlines. They just move life forward one completed form, one scheduled appointment, and one watered lawn at a time.
The backyard remains on an as-needed watering schedule today.
Rather than watering first thing this morning, I’m going to let the yard ride through the morning sunshine and see how it responds. The soil still appears to be holding moisture, and with the grass beginning to establish itself, there is no sense in adding water just because the calendar says so.
The plan is simple: observe, evaluate, and react.
If the backyard makes it through the morning sun without showing signs of stress, I should be in good shape by around noon and may be able to skip watering altogether. If the grass starts looking thirsty, then I’ll give it what it needs.
After nearly three weeks of watering, waiting, and watching for sprouts, the project is entering a new phase. Less emergency irrigation, more careful stewardship. The goal is to encourage the roots to search deeper rather than keeping the surface constantly wet.
For now, the backyard gets a chance to speak for itself.
Backyard Status: Monitoring Watering Plan: As Needed Morning Outlook: Sunshine Test in Progress Estimated Checkpoint: Around Noon
The grass has graduated from the intensive care unit and is now in physical therapy. 🌱😄
The day started with a check of the backyard grass project.
After nearly three weeks of watering and patience, the lawn is showing scattered sprouts. Some of the new growth appears to be from recently planted seed, while some may be older grass reclaiming territory beneath the canopy of volunteer trees that have grown rapidly over the years and now stand roughly 25 feet tall.
The grass isn’t charging ahead. It’s moving at the speed of a Colorado tortoise wearing snowshoes.
But it’s moving.
I spent part of the morning evaluating the moisture situation and thinking about what comes next. The backyard still had plenty of debris from spring winds, mulch, old plant material, and large leaf stalks that needed attention.
My hamstring, however, had other ideas.
Rather than forcing the issue, I listened to my body and took a break. A full nap never arrived, but I did manage fifteen minutes of pure relaxation. No sleep. Just a chance to let the body settle down and recharge.
Meanwhile, the day included a freshly ground sativa session and a package of cinnamon Pop-Tarts. Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but it got the job done.
Progress Inside and Out
The backyard received a thorough watering, helping the young seedlings continue their slow climb toward becoming a lawn.
After that, attention shifted indoors.
The downstairs got vacuumed, and a substantial amount of dog hair was removed from circulation. The battle is far from over, but important ground was gained.
The house felt better afterward.
So did I.
Mission Accomplished
As the afternoon progressed, the yard dried enough for action.
The rake came out.
The remaining debris was gathered, the leaf stalks were removed, and everything was bagged up for disposal. What started as a day that looked like it might be devoted entirely to recovery turned into a productive maintenance day.
The day started with a change of plans for Missy. Claire is getting her another grooming appointment at Wag N’ Wash after her previous spa adventure at Petco ended early. Missy made her opinion known, and I had to go pick her up. Whether it was the unfamiliar groomer, the environment, or a combination of factors, she clearly wasn’t having it. For now, she has a new appointment on the calendar and a chance for a fresh start.
As for me, my left hamstring woke up determined to be noticed. It has been making itself well known all morning, so I fired up the heating pad on the warm setting. That simple bit of heat felt pretty awesome and reminded me that sometimes recovery means listening instead of pushing.
I had thoughts of taking a nap. The last two days didn’t go well in that department. The sativa had me in project mode instead of rest mode, so this morning I left it alone and visited my Roxanne bud cone joint from yesterday. There are still a session or two left in it.
Then the weeds happened.
One minute I was considering a nap. The next minute I was outside spraying both the front and backyard with Weed B Gon Max. So much for sleeping. The Reclamation Department was called into action.
That led, of course, to a full lawn inspection. There are two kinds of walks through a yard: walking through the yard and inspecting the yard. I was definitely inspecting. Every patch of grass, every weed, every bare spot got a second look. Two weeks after the initial seed and fertilizer application, the backyard is beginning to look solid. Progress is slow, but it is there.
That got me thinking about reclamation again.
The backyard project is reclamation. The Tire ReclamationProjects is reclamation. Recovery after a brain injury and stroke is reclamation. Even using a heating pad to settle down a complaining hamstring feels like a small act of reclamation.
Is it a bad thing to have a sense of reclamation?
I don’t think so.
A sense of reclamation is simply the belief that something worn down, damaged, neglected, or interrupted can still become something useful, meaningful, or beautiful. It isn’t about pretending damage never happened. It’s about refusing to let damage have the final word.
Looking back, I also reflected on my return to cannabis after the stroke. There were sixty days under intensive medical supervision where cannabis wasn’t part of my life. When I
, I already had my return planned out. I had been honest with the medical staff the entire way, and no one seemed particularly concerned. Recovery came first. Cannabis came later.
I’m old school when it comes to cannabis. I still look at the plant itself. Leaf structure, growth patterns, and the physical characteristics tell a story. Long before labels, THC percentages, and marketing names, growers learned to read the plant.
Now here I am at 10:11 in the morning and sitting pretty on my schedule.
The hamstring has been heated. The weeds have been sprayed. The lawn has been inspected. Missy’s next spa appointment is booked.
As for the nap?
We’ll see.
No pressure.
If it happens, great. If not, it’s already been a productive morning in the ongoing reclamation project known as life.
The day started early. I was up by 6:00 AM, getting moving before the Colorado heat settled in. One of the first tasks was picking up the hose in the backyard and tidying things up while waiting for 10:00 AM to arrive.
It’s funny. It feels like I’ve accomplished more this morning than I actually have. Maybe it’s because I’ve been awake so long. The coffee is gone, the vitamins are down, and the forecast is calling for temperatures in the upper 80s this afternoon.
I’ve had four pulls from a sativa blend this morning and feel pretty dialed in. Not racing, not dragging—just comfortably in that zone where the day feels manageable and my mind stays engaged.
The plan for later is simple: get the mowing done and, if all goes according to schedule, celebrate with a half-gram joint afterward. A little reward system never hurt anybody.
The morning seems to be moving in slow motion. Every glance at the clock feels like only a few minutes have passed. Then again, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. After everything life can throw at a person, a slow, quiet morning isn’t a problem to solve. Sometimes it’s a gift.
For now, the backyard and mower both wait, and the day is still young. The coffee has done its job, the cannabis has settled in nicely, and the only real mission is to keep moving forward one task at a time.
Given my history of pushing through recovery, workouts, yard work, and all the various reclamation projects, I trust your instincts here. When you’re truly avoiding something, you usually know it. This sounds more like you’re read of your body’s dashboard and noticing the “rest recommended” light has come on.
🌙 Heating pad on low 🛋️ Comfortable position acquired 😴 Nap possibility increasing 🚜 Ryobi standing by 🏡 HOA nowhere in sight
Not a bad status report for a Monday morning.
May your nap be deep enough to be refreshing and short enough that you don’t wake up wondering what year it is.
Yesterday, I didn’t water the backyard at all. After the soaking it got the day before, I decided to let nature handle things for a while. This morning the soil was still holding plenty of moisture, so I only gave it a light sprinkle, but the weeds are showing up just as enthusiastically as the grass. They’re getting pretty substantial back there, and weed patrol is moving higher on the priority list. A little time spent pulling them now will save a much bigger battle later.
For today, the lawn seems content. The soil is moist, the seed has what it needs, and the garden hose gets a well-earned break. The weeds, unfortunately, have other plans.
🌱 Backyard Reclamation Project continues. One sprinkle at a time.
😄 Castle Rock’s water enforcement folks have earned a bit of a reputation in local lore, haven’t they?
I can picture the legend now: a silent pickup truck parked three blocks away, a clipboard glowing faintly in the moonlight, waiting for someone to water a petunia at 7:59 p.m.t
In reality, enforcement is usually a lot less dramatic. Water districts tend to focus on obvious violations and water waste—sprinklers running into the street, irrigation during restricted hours, broken systems spraying everywhere, or repeated complaints. They’re generally not conducting covert stakeouts of someone hand-watering a reseeded patch in the backyard.
That said, I understand why you’re cautious. Water is a big deal in Colorado, and Castle Rock takes conservation seriously. The fact that you know the rules about hand watering and are paying attention to them already puts you ahead of many people.
Besides, after today’s rain, if anyone was hiding in the shadows, they were probably getting soaked right along with the grass seed. 🌧️
My guess is that tonight the only thing lurking in your backyard is a bunch of grass seed quietly plotting its grand entrance. Give it a week or two, and you’ll start seeing whether the sod rebuild is paying off. That’s a much more interesting report than anything the mythical Water Cops could write. 🌱👀
This morning my left hamstring is feeling a lot better. That’s a welcome change after dealing with the stiffness and discomfort lately. My plan is to apply some heat and see how it responds before deciding on a workout.
If things continue to feel loose and comfortable after the heat treatment, I may try to get in some exercise today. I’ll take it one step at a time, pay attention to what my body is telling me, and avoid pushing through any pain.
After the last few days, even a small improvement feels like progress. Here’s hoping the heat, movement, and a little determination help keep things headed in the right direction.
The biggest obstacle today isn’t the weather. It isn’t the brown spot in the backyard. It isn’t even the fatigue.
It’s the daily battle with leg pain.
Most mornings begin with the same challenge: aching, discomfort, and limitations that don’t start easing up until around 2:00 p.m. The body feels like it’s staging a protest, making every task more difficult than it should be. Some days that means moving slower. Some days it means changing plans entirely.
Yet the day moves forward anyway.
The clouds continue drifting past the office window. The grass seed can wait. The nap may be necessary. And for now, the goal is simple: make it through the morning and give the body the time it needs to catch up with the day
My legs may file complaints every morning, but all the joints are still functional. The machinery isn’t factory-new anymore, but it’s still operational. Some mornings require extra warm-up time, some require a nap, and some require a little chemical encouragement from the garden. But the wheels are still turning.
Not exactly a brand-new sports car—but the vehicle is still on the road. And after everything your body has been through since 1993, that’s not a small accomplishment
I got the backyard mowed and mostly weeded today. Progress. Real progress. The kind where you stand there afterward looking at the yard thinking: “Okay… this no longer looks abandoned.”
The irrigation is turned on in the front yard and the zones are actually hitting where they’re designed to. That alone feels like a minor engineering victory. Nothing says suburban optimism like watching sprinklers rotate correctly for once instead of watering the sidewalk like they’re protesting drought conditions.
I’ve been pulling weeds out by hand, which turns out to be equal parts landscaping and revenge therapy. Every weed pulled feels personal at this point.
I still have about two big weed piles left, but I’ll get more tomorrow. Today was mainly about getting the yard looking good again and bringing the whole place back under control.
And honestly, it worked.
The grass was 18 inches tall in places not long ago. Now the yard actually looks cared for again instead of “future habitat restoration project.” Between the mowing, the irrigation, and the cleanup, the place is finally starting to breathe again.
Meanwhile the neighborhood soundtrack continues: F-16 flyovers overhead, new backyard chickens next door, sprinklers clicking, and me walking around inspecting grass like I’m preparing for the Masters Tournament. 😄
It is now 4:00 PM. Time for an hour nap before doing a Home Depot run for grass seed. The yard survived. The hamstrings survived. The weeds did not.
Started the day riding the sativa wave. My brother’s grow is coming in strong and is a proven producer—no messing around. I’m about six hits deep, easing into the morning like I’ve done this dance before (because I absolutely have).
There’s a rhythm to it now. Not chasing anything, just settling in. Letting the edges smooth out, letting the day come to me instead of the other way around.
And honestly? I made it. That’s the headline. Not flashy, not dramatic—just solid. Present. Accounted for.
We’ll see where the rest of the day wants to go.
Friday, April 3, 2026
Started the day riding a clean sativa wave. The kind that doesn’t hit all at once—it builds, rolls in slow, then suddenly you’re in it. Brad’s grow is coming in strong this morning. No half-measures there. About six hits deep and officially underway.
There’s something about that early lift—it’s not chaos, it’s calibration. Like tuning an old radio just right until the static drops out and the signal comes through clear. I’m not chasing anything today. Not energy, not motivation, not even peace. Just letting it show up how it wants.
In my head, it looks like a wave—green, glassy, almost glowing. Not crashing, not violent. Just carrying. You don’t fight it, you don’t steer it. You ride it. Let it take you where it’s going without overthinking the whole damn thing.
That’s the rhythm this morning. No rush, no pressure. Just present.
And yeah—simple win—I made it.
We’ll see what the rest of the day decides to do with me.
Being an adult is realizing it’s absolutely critical to remove your iPhone from your pocket before sitting down to journal.
Nobody warns you about this part of life.
As a kid, adulthood looked like freedom, confidence, and knowing important things. In reality, a shocking percentage of adult decision-making is:
“Wait… where’s my phone?” “Oh no.” slowly stands back up
One bad sit and suddenly you’re gambling your entire communication system against denim dynamics.
And the older you get, the more these tiny routines matter.
Wallet. Keys. Phone. Dignity. Lower back alignment.
All systems check.
Human civilization built rockets, artificial intelligence, and heated car seats, yet every adult still occasionally sits down like a malfunctioning forklift because there’s a rectangle in their pocket.
The house painters are officially here and fully underway. Ladders up. Spray equipment runningr. Doors and windows wrapped in plastic like the house entered nasty illness status.
They’re doing excellent work so far.
The main challenge today is keeping Missy inside while the crew moves through the gate carrying ladders and spraying paint. Temporary dog air-traffic control is now in effect.
The good news: the kid made it out and got to work.
Not an easy mission either. Getting in and out of the house right now feels like navigating a construction maze wrapped in plastic sheeting, but he got through it and that’s what counts.
Missy’s handling the crew surprisingly well too. She had one brief choking-and-puke moment after I let her outside, but recovered quickly and has been completely fine since.
Current status:
Paint crew — rolling. House — wrapped. Dog — stable. Stress level — manageable.
There’s a certain kind of confidence in cannabis culture that arrives with no hesitation, no receipts, and no lab results.
Just one look at a bud and:
“Yeah… that one’s the strongest.”
This whole thread started there—and turned into a full MythBusters-style breakdown of whether people can actually judge cannabis potency by sight and smell alone.
Spoiler: things got humbling fast.
⸻
The Myth
Experienced cannabis users can accurately identify THC potency by appearance and aroma alone.
It sounds believable. People swear by:
• crystals (“more frost = stronger”) • smell (“louder = more potent”) • density (“tight buds hit harder”) • color (“purple means stronger… right?”)
The confidence is always high.
The accuracy? That’s what we tested.
⸻
The Setup
Three unknown flower samples.
No labels. No THC percentages. No branding. No hints.
Paint Delays, Fuel Points, Virga Rain, and the Emotional Support V8
Friday started cold.
Thirty-six degrees outside at sunrise, which immediately turned “paint day” into a weather-dependent engineering discussion. The painters were supposed to arrive in the morning, but at those temperatures the siding probably felt like a refrigerated beer cooler.
Colorado once again reminded everyone that “late May” is merely a suggestion.
So the morning began in uncertainty: Will the painters come? Will the paint cure? Will spring ever fully commit to existing?
Meanwhile, real life was already moving.
Claire headed to King Soopers for the sacred suburban ritual known as Friday Double Fuel Points Day and returned victorious with groceries and a monthly total of 900 fuel points.
Not 900 for one shopping trip. Nine hundred for the month.
At that level, fuel points stop being rewards and start becoming strategic petroleum reserves.
The operation itself went smoothly: no crushed bread, no parking lot incidents, no accidental marital turbulence.
Honestly, “didn’t get yelled at” counted as a successful metric for the morning.
Meanwhile, Dakota somehow got up before 7 AM for work despite not getting home until 1:50 in the morning, which means the kid is currently functioning on caffeine, youth, and what appears to be illegal levels of determination.
And me?
I spent most of the early morning in fleece sleepers.
At 36 degrees outside, fleece sleepers were not a fashion statement. They were thermal survival equipment.
The morning became a slow-moving documentary: coffee in hand, watching the driveway, checking temperatures, waiting for painters who seemed to exist only as rumors and unanswered expectations.
At one point I accidentally thought it was already 64 degrees outside before reality corrected itself back to a much more believable 45 degrees.
Classic Colorado: winter at sunrise, possible patio weather by lunch, hail anxiety by dinner.
Eventually I showered, got dressed, and upgraded from coffee mode into blueberry pomegranate V8 Energy mode.
That tiny purple can somehow tastes like liquid productivity and suburban resilience.
By then, the day had evolved into organized anticipation:
groceries secured,
fuel points accumulated,
weather improving,
contractors pending,
morale stable.
Then came the update.
The painter finally called and said he was about 90 minutes out.
At last: radio contact established with the contractor dimension.
Meanwhile the weather outside continued performing atmospheric magic tricks. Rain clouds drifted overhead, but much of the rain evaporated before it ever reached the ground — classic Front Range virga.
The sky looked emotionally committed to raining. The pavement disagreed.
As the temperature climbed into the mid-50s, things finally started looking realistic for exterior paint work. There has to be some safety factor built into modern paint specifications anyway. Paint companies know contractors aren’t applying coatings inside a climate-controlled laboratory.
At 54.9 degrees and rising, the atmosphere basically sent the painters a formal invitation.
That’s when I did a second walk-around outside and realized an important truth: I am absolutely going to get trapped by ladders at some point today.
Exterior painters and homeowners share space like airport ground crews avoiding moving machinery. There will be hoses. There will be tarps. There will be moments where I need to reach something and discover a ladder occupying the exact coordinates of my intended path.
Temporary inconvenience. Fresh paint later.
Somewhere in the middle of all this, I also realized something important about Missy.
When she whines, she’s usually not “just making noise.”
A lot of it comes from uncertainty.
If she can’t immediately tell where I am in the house, she often runs upstairs near the top of the stairs and starts vocalizing — basically performing an emotional location check: “Where are you?” “Are we still together?” “Did everybody disappear?”
Once I understood that, the whining sounded completely different.
Not annoying. Not dramatic. Just communication.
Dogs are incredibly tuned into the location and routines of their people, and today already had unusual energy: cold weather, contractors pending, people moving around early, doors opening, different schedules, extra activity.
To humans, it’s just Friday morning.
To a dog? The whole house probably feels emotionally rearranged.
And finally, hovering over all of this was Colorado weather coverage.
Watching Chris Bianchi warn about possible afternoon destruction around 4 PM felt peak Colorado.
Local meteorologists only really operate in two modes:
“Beautiful weekend ahead.”
“The atmosphere may attempt violence later today.”
But Front Range storms are chaos artists.
They can strengthen, collapse, split apart, miss entirely, or terrorize one neighborhood while another gets three raindrops and dramatic thunder for emotional effect.
So now the house waits: paint pending, storms possible, ladders incoming, fuel points secured, V8 deployed, Missy monitoring the staircase, and Colorado continuing to behave like four seasons trapped inside a blender.
36° is definitely eyebrow-raising for exterior paint day. That’s not “flip-flops and lemonade” painting weather — that’s “the paint better know what it signed up for” weather. 😄
The big thing is the surface temperature, not just the air temp. Most modern exterior latex paints want:
Air and surface temps above about 50°F for standard paint
Some “low-temp” paints can go down to 35°F
But there’s a catch: the temp usually needs to stay above that threshold for several hours after application so the paint can cure properly. Morning shade, damp siding, dew, or overnight freezes can mess with adhesion and curing.
If your painters are legit, they’ll probably:
Wait until late morning/afternoon
Check siding temp with an infrared thermometer
Use a low-temp-rated product if conditions allow
Avoid painting damp surfaces
Bad cold-weather paint jobs can end up:
Streaky
Soft/tacky
Peeling early
Looking uneven later
Honestly, this is one of those moments where a good painting crew earns their money. A bad crew sees 36° and says “send it.” A good crew starts checking forecasts like meteorologists guarding the launch window for Apollo 11. 🚀
If you want, I can also help you figure out:
whether today’s forecast in Highlands Ranch is actually safe for painting,
what temperature Sherwin-Williams/Behr products require,
or what questions to ask the crew before they start.
40° at 8 AM and only 48° by 10 AM means the siding itself is probably still colder than the air, especially on shaded sides of the house. By 11–1, though, you’re finally getting into the “okay, now we can talk” range for most exterior acrylic paints.
Honestly, this is probably the best-case scenario:
dry air,
almost no chance of rain,
light wind,
gradual warmup into the 50s.
That’s workable if they start later in the day.
The Front Range really does this every spring: 7 AM: “survival conditions” 1 PM: “maybe patio weather” 7 PM: “find the hoodie again”
My coffee may end up curing faster than the paint this morning.
Version 2
The morning finally started moving.
Claire made it home from King Soopers successful and victorious from the Friday double fuel points campaign, while the weather outside continued its slow crawl from “frost advisory energy” toward actual spring.
Meanwhile, Dakota was already up before 7 AM for work after not getting home until 1:50 in the morning.
That’s the kind of schedule that turns a human being into pure caffeine and momentum.
The house this morning feels like three separate timelines happening at once:
contractors operating on weather delay,
grocery logistics complete,
exhausted work schedules still rolling forward anyway.
And through all of it: coffee remains undefeated.
The forecast now makes more sense too. The painters probably looked at those early temperatures and decided the siding deserved a little more time before becoming modern art.
Classic Colorado May: winter in the morning, reasonable human existence by lunch.
The day is still assembling itself piece by piece, but at least everybody’s accounted for now: Claire home, Dakota upright, coffee hot, and the paint saga still pending
It’s My Life 