If one more person tells me “Just four more weeks!” I may be forced to do something rash. Like start weeping uncontrollably. Or barking frantically. Or running around in circles like Will Ferrell in Elf.
It’s not like I haven’t done any shopping yet. I went to Narnia Farms on Johnson Street in Victoria and bought an assortment of lovely soaps and candles and jams and jellies. I love all those things, of course, but it also helps that one of my brothers runs the organic herb farm in Smithers that supplies all of Narnia’s herbs.
Obviously, as we’re getting close to Christmas, this is not the time to start making jokes about our family’s (read: my three brothers’) long and illustrious history with herbs. In the seventies, when my older brother was still a teenager and had taken to wearing ankle boots with a big heel and drastic sideburns, his interest in cultivation resulted a few heated family conferences at the end of which several spindly herbal specimens were ritually incinerated and he was forbidden from driving his muscle car for a week.
My older brother’s penchant for gardening didn’t last, but in the nineties another brother, I’m not saying which, took up the torch, as it were. That resulted in a rather embarrassing incident in which the family name was splashed all over the front of the local newspaper as he became the newest casualty on the war on herbs. Yes, one of my brothers failed to thrive in B.C.’s “other economy”. The overheated police report made it sound as though the local detachment had taken down Scarface. The report breathlessly detailed “weapons” seized in the raid, which was undertaken by at least seven officers and which scored almost that many plants. The “weapons” were a pair of nun-chucks bought when the brother in question was twelve years old. The sticks resulted in several sets of badly bruised knuckles and had been retired to an old drawer with the a set of badly bent hockey cards. Look out Columbian Drug Cartel! Here comes the competition! Careful or he might accidentally bonk himself in the head with a nun-chuck while getting a hockey card to put in the spoke of your bike, just to really irritate you.
The “bust” resulted in many more heated family meetings during which the brother in question had to agree to give up a life of crime due to a lack of aptitude. Anyway, I’m not going to get into all that, since it’s less than four weeks until Christmas. Let’s just say that I was very proud to walk into the retail outlet and buy legitimate herb products produced by one of my brothers. Because, when you think about it, that’s what Christmas is all about…