Twas the Night Before Christmas

A Kombucha Miracle

Repost from last years Christmas Eve adventures…

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the store,

Not a kombucha was stirring, not even a pint of coconut kefir.

Presents were purchased; cookies baking in the stove,

In hopes that the guest list would eat them in troves.

While pacing the store isles and rubbing my chin,

The journey to find kombucha was about to begin.

Isle after isle the suburban grocery store growing in size,

Kombucha waiting in the furthest corner, I surmised.

Dashing and dancing past human obstacles of obstruction,

I arrived at the cooler to find its imminent deduction.

Left in a panic I asked to speak to command,

Only to be educated on supply and demand.

With black ice setting in and a brewing of snow,

The only rational step was to drive 45 min. to Trader Joe’s.

I picked up the phone and dialed my mom,

To tell her in detail about this grocery store qualm.

“Hey mom don’t be mad, I’m in a shopping pickle,

— I have to drive into town, yes, yes, I know it is fickle.

— Remember the book on the microbiome?

— And all the bacteria that just want a nice home?”

“What about kimchi, sauerkraut or bone broth!” you yell,

“Well, I wish those would help me with this icky tummy spell.”

“Your father will be angry, the snow is getting bad outside,

— But Ill ask him to drive you, he likes to go on rides.”

“You wont be mad if I’m late for Christmas Eve dinner?

— Because you’ll forget all about it when my tummy looks thinner!”

“Well yes I have been cleaning and cooking for hours,

— And hardly any time for assembling my famous cookie tower.

— And no time to decorate or set the table with grace,

But hey, I don’t need help, you just go on your chase.”

With a click in my ear, I stood in the parking lot alone,

But then I see the headlights of my dear old pops cyclone.

I opened the door and hopped in the truck with surprise,

The whole family was there, even mom, bundled and ready to drive!

“What are you all doing here?” I shrieked with excitement.

“We want to die with you if it means this much entitlement.”

“This town may not have boocha to balance your health,

— But the hell with it, we’ve got tires to drive you with stealth.”

And on our way we zoomed into town,

Only to be met with traffic in-bound.

With very few parking spots, like all Trader Joe’s have,

They dropped me off at the front, with some last minute asks:

“Now don’t forget the peanut butter pretzels, salted,

— Oh! And that plastic container of chocolates, malted.

— And remember that seaweed you made us try unwillingly?

— Grab some of that and maybe some Scandinavian fishies!”

I leapt out the car and pushed through the isles,

Only to find the right cooler reflecting all smiles.

With kombucha before me, in a multitude of flavor,

I threw them into my carriage with a fizzied like clamor.

And on the drive home we ate TJ snacks and laughed silly,

Only realizing we forgot to cancel the Christmas Eve party!

And when we returned home, our guests looked oblong,

And wondering why everything was totally wrong!

“We didn’t do lasagna tonight, so let’s stop the hysteria,

— Instead lets go sit by the fire and talk about our bacteria!”

I hope you have a Merry Christmas!