After the almost fatal drive from Laramie to Ft. Collins a week ago, I thought I'd better get new tires. Winter is coming and I don't want to be caught in another situation like that with less than wonderful tires. There's a place my friend Dan Day recommended and he called ahead to get me the 'family' discount. While they put on the tires I took a little walk in the glorious fall weather; trees golden, red, and some still green in every direction, the little creek with a sidewalk along it full of squirrels dashing about, children playing in the park across the street, a lovely area. And I spotted a bakery. I don't eat grains anymore but the smell of fresh bread would ease my soul and besides I could pick up something for my mom who is feeling deprived traveling with me and my austere diet.
The bakery was in a small house with little Tibetan flags in the flower bed, nicely landscaped front yard and a large sign: Fresh Baked.
I stepped in through the door to no smells whatsoever. Inside the darker room when my eyes adjusted there was a conference table off to one side, the room had a tall desk with two people behind it who looked at me questioningly.
"Oh, this isn't a bakery?"
"No", said the slim young woman, "It's a dispensary."
There were no shelves full of product, nothing 'for sale' that I could see. Now my curiosity was beside itself. "A dispensary of what?"
"Medical Marijuana" she said, "Welcome to Boulder!!"
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