forty.

i like when my mom talks about when she was at woodstock. i get to hear about the bad food, the crazy people, tarp stealing, the wonderful but absolutely chaotic music, how her boyfriend took the bad brown acid, and the 6 mile walk from the car.

but most of all i like when on a woodstock documentary, every time they bring up acid, shrooms, weed, heroin, alcohol, peyote, anything at all, she looks at me intently and says "i had a few sips of wine, and probably not even that because i heard it was spiked with bad acid". and then my dad points jovially at a long haired hippie waif chopping onions and says "look it's mommy!"

for some reason, this makes me smile.