Hermetically
In a way that is completely airtight
“hermetically sealed windows help to keep out cold air”
In a way that is insulated or protected from outside influences
“hermetically sealed lives cut off from society”
I am part of a two car household. Hard to be otherwise when you have two working stiffs going in different directions each day. In a bit here I will be going off to Boulder, my dear will head off to the university here in town. Different hours, different directions, different lives after years of sharing the same profession, commute and schedule. Should be interesting.
Our car choices sort of reflect these new differences. For the past year we have been sharing a Honda Fit. Red, spartan and yet sporty, thanks to the former owner who tricked it all out for us. Our recent acquisition, a Buick Park Avenue, is a whole different world. Large, conservative, fancy. A true grandpa car. Or, as one dealer put it to me when I was looking at a '98 that was on consignment “nobody wants to touch that car. Everyone who comes up to look at it likes it but they turn away, tell me that it looks like a car their grandmother would drive”. There it is. But this grandpa likes his leather seats, like the way the stereo sounds, like the way it handles on the open road. I may be driving an older model car that has sucky gas mileage but baby, I am doing it in style.
One thing that we both have in common, though, is that we both like to ride with the windows down. Only once we did fire up the air conditioning in the Honda, and that was to impress my honey’s mom when she flew in last summer. Since then, we go around town with the windows in various states of closure. Same with the Buick. But I think we're weird that way. There is definitely something going on here, as far as windows are concerned. Saw the same thing when I was in Idaho. Seems that folks just don’t like to ride around without their windows up and their air con blasting.
I moved here car-less last year in the midst of winter. Six months later when the temps began to rise I began to understand why folks went around with their windows up but now that I am acclimated I just don’t get it. Except for the monsoons and the occasional blizzard we're farely mild in the summer. The same goes for winter. Folks around here really like to button up. We have come a long way in designing vehicles, houses. We live with incredible building codes in place. We really respect insulation, gaskets, watertightness, the way our electric bills humble us. We make things that are truly tight, so much so that when you cook those cooking fumes stay around forever, so much so that when you fart in your car the next owner will know what you ate for supper way back when.
I just don’t get why on a pretty summer’s day when it is less than 90 degrees folks just don’t go around with their windows down. They hermetically seal themselves off from the weather, from the world. They go around in their protective bubbles, listening to their music, grooving on their phone calls, bubble wrapping themselves into their own private worlds, from bedroom to doorstep to garage to highway to work and back again, every step of the way closed in and sealed tight. From day to day, year to year, from home to store, the temperature must always seem the same. Me, I guess I just like to sweat, feel the heat in the summer, have an excuse to wear wear wool in the winter.
Now, all that being said, sealed up is the way I like to see my mota. Not kitchen vacuum seal, mind you. I have become a big fan of sealing my dope in glass after I buy it. I think, after all is said and done, I am being the little helper that that herb really needs. There are times when I KNOW that my dope has not been cured well, that it has been treated with a touch less than kindness. There a few places, like L’Eagle in Denver, that pride themselves on lengthy cure times, so much so that the price of their mota reflects that. When it burns down and the ash in nice and grey, when it fires up and you don’t taste or smell grass clippings, well then, I feel my money has been well spent.
It was after reading an article about that particular dispensary that I began to seek out jars for my weed. I first went to King Soopers to pick up some jelly jars. That was great but it was a bit pricey. Then I scored a rack of baby food jars that had been color coded for a teen program at my library. Lately I hit up my local second hand stores for jars that have been donated. I like those deals best of all. At this time I have old footlocker full of them, my mota happy as clams, a gram here, an eighth there, the jars all nicely labeled with whatever strain is in them. So now my mota sits in the dark, stashed away in a cool space, all sealed, all biding their time till they are ready and properly cured, to give delight to Senior Mota Man.
In this fashion and this fashion only do I like my life hermetically sealed. I open my windows to let in the light and to flush my house of noxious smells. I drive around and let the wind blow through my closely shorn hair. But when it comes to my dope I like it tightly sealed. Psssst! Ah, the sound of dankness!
Salud!
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