No, I've never smoked Weed.

There are things that are different here in the UK. People drive on the wrong side of the road, they say lorry instead of truck. I'm pretty sure that if I told someone I liked their pants, they would walk away thinking that I just complimented them on their underwear. Just little things. Also, if I give someone the peace sign with my palm facing in, I might get punched. These things I knew about when we moved here. I had experienced them for a little while when Paul and I first married.

There's one thing, though, that has taken me by surprise this time around.

I was at the park with the kids today, enjoying some of the sweet sun that has infiltrated this cloudy country. The park is adjacent to a church, and within walking distance of our pimp-pad here in Cambridge (this latest temporary housing is so streamlined and sweet... therefore so inappropriate and frustrating with two toddlers). There are two little caged-in play areas (LOVE them for caging in the play areas. LOVE THEM), and a seemingly misplaced skate ramp. I was in the bigger of the two areas, enjoying myself while my youngest was learning the ropes and finally understanding why it's always best to go feet first, and my oldest had made a friend and was joyfully running around, enjoying the freedom. My back was facing the skate ramp, but I was aware of two older guys (well, older than my 2 year old... they were probably my age) that were doing some type of training with their bikes. Alex had just taken it upon herself to run out of the cage (why they put the gate so you push to get out, instead of pull, I'll never know), yelling BIKE BIKE BIKE. I quickly grabbed her, told her it was too early to start chasing boys, and brought her back inside. As she set about playing with her friend again, I caught a scent in the air that was striking me as vaguely familiar. It was a sweet, a little cloying. I tried to sift through my memories and place the smell. I glanced around to see if I could see the source and my eyes caught the guys, who were now perched on top of the ramp, apparently taking a break. And there in one of their hands was a little cigarette. Nay, a joint. Suddenly, I was in high school, feeling very uncomfortable as my old friend's new (and mildly, ok, really weird) boyfriend pulled over his car that we were driving in, pulled off the face of the steering wheel, and continued to roll a joint and smoke it, with the windows up. Oh my gosh, they're smoking weed on a playground. Why are they smoking weed on a playground?! Why are my children getting their first taste of weed at the ages of OOONNNEE and TWWWOOO?? I was trying to figure out what I should do, but was left with the option of staying put when they finished up and went on their way.

When Paul got home, I quickly told him what happened, laughing at the absurdity of it. And do you know what he said? That it's LEGAL.

Now, I haven't done any research, so I don't know if he's mistaken or not... but if he's not? GOOD TO KNOW.