The Carrot Fiasco.

Right now, right this minute, as I sit in this Starbucks and type this, there is an Air Canada jet flying over Alberta or British Columbia. Miles high. On its way to Vancouver. Streaking across the sky, leaving a long thin cloud behind it.
In the cargo-hold of this jet there is a veritable mountain of luggage, and a few confused pets in cages, swaying lightly, looking at each other and saying with their eyes (as only animals can).... “They got you too huh? Any idea what this is all about?”
Among the pile of jiggling suitcases, there is one that seems more solid than the rest. It moveth not, and it crusheth whatever is beneath it. It is packed with organic material that somehow slipped past the censors. Is it illegal? Is it a threat to those on board this airliner, calmly sipping their tea or coffee in utter oblivion as to its existence below them?
Hardly.
This suitcase is filled with 52 pounds of carrots.
I know because my brother-in-law weighed the thing.
Then he drove The Constant Gardener to the airport.

See, my mom (bless her grandmotherly soul) is on her way to visit her daughter, my sister. Seems that just recently dear old mom visited some farm, somewhere in Saskatchewan, wherein she discovered, among other things, the world’s greatest carrots. So she bought a suitcaseful.
My mom can get pretty excited about vegetables. She used to have a garden that looked like some sort of mutatious problem you might see depicted in an end-of-the-world science fiction movie. You know what I mean?
Cornstalks twelve feet high? Tomatoes the size of basketballs?
Next door neighbor, peering over the fence: “Hey, the cabbages are looking real good this year!”
My mom, pointing with the hoe: “Cabbages? Heck, them there is Brussels sprouts!”
Oh yes..... my mom’s garden..... Apocalypse Now!

But ever since my father passed away and my mom sold the old homestead, along with its patch of mutant dirt out back.... well, she has not had a garden to play in.
So, when things get out of control, we must humor her fancy.
When she buys veggies..... people listen!
Even so, I just talked to my sister this morning, prior to coming here for my coffee and reading time.... and well, this time around she is a bit worried.

“What am I going to do with 52 pounds of carrots?”
“Beats me” I said. “Make carrotburgers?”
“Quit it. I’m being serious.”
“Well, I am sorry, but nothing like this has ever happened to me. I have no ideas!”
[Inject right here, a picture of my mom, happily looking out the window five miles high, blissfully unaware of the havoc she is already wreaking....]
Me again: “Have you thought of maybe getting a juicer? Now would be the time.”
She: “We’ll all die from that much juice.”
Me: “I don’t know about that. Have you seen that old guy on the info-mercials? I think he is like 300, yet he looks not a day over 40. He hasn’t aged one minute in the past six decades, and all he eats is carrot juice!”
She hung up on me.

It is so easy for me to be light about this. I am not directly involved with The Carrot Fiasco.
But you gotta admit.... from where we sit, you and I, it is sort of hilarious.
My poor sister. My thoughts are with her and her soon-to-be-orange-lipped family!

And one more thing.
Up above, I made reference to the other passengers in this aircraft being calmly unaware of this cargo beneath them.
Hmmmm... this is probably not the way it is. If I know my mother at all (and I do), there is no one within earshot of her that does not know about the contents of this one suitcase. She will begin with the person seated next to her and then make her way through the plane....
“I checked in with two pieces of luggage today. One was very light, as it held only my essential items, like clothing and pots and pans. But guess what was in the other one?”
[The person looks away, while another runs for help, trying to find the on-board Air-Marshall].
“No, really” she goes on, like an out-of-control roto-tiller.... “Guess.”
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