The Washingtonian article I referred to here is now online. What's striking is how so much of it echoes our series of reader stories in The Cannabis Closet. DC's upper-middle class is marijuana central. Money quote:
Two years ago, Sara quit her marketing job "because I was sick of the grind, spending 2½ hours commuting to do something I didn’t love anymore." Finding herself with a lot of time, she parlayed a talent for baking into a new job. Now she bakes marijuana into brownies, cookies, candy, and other treats and sells them—often to people who are chronically or terminally ill and who take the edibles to ease pain and alleviate side effects from chemotherapy and other treatments.
Sara doesn’t consider herself a drug dealer, though. When I ask what she calls herself, she pauses. "A gourmet cook? A baker? It’s a good question," she says. "The reason I do what I do is to help people. My husband jokes that I’m a ‘pharmaceutical redistributor.' "
The law – preposterously – calls her a criminal.