Our family was too strange and weird for even Santa Claus to come visit. Santa, who was jolly - but, let's face it, he was also very judgmental. (Julia Sweeney)

My family was a heroin family. It was not only the drug of choice in our house, it was the only drug in our house. The idea of something else was weird.

“You won’t do heroin but you’ll smoke marijuana cigarettes?”

“It’s natural, Tony. It comes from the earth and it gives you a natural high. It’s not like your body’s chemical reaction to those toxins you shoot into your veins. This is an organic experience. This is how God intended it to be.”

I might have been a Sunday school dropout, but that was where it got fishy for me, I knew enough about right and wrong to know drugs were wrong and I knew enough about drugs to know cannabis was a drug. All in all, I was educated enough to know Scotch didn’t know what she was talking about. God did not condone drugs.

Senior left without notice. I spotted the garage door rising and his Mercedes pulling out. He didn’t make a big deal about things. He was mature and quiet. What I always respected most about Senior was his ability to convey his feelings so coherently without a word. Everyone knew what he felt and thought and wanted and he never had to rant about any of it. He lived a fluid sort of existence.

Scotch rolled her marijuana cigarette and passed it around. Even my mother was curious enough about this holy high to take a drag. For once she didn’t gripe about me joining in on the fun. It was okay. It wasn’t heroin, that’s for sure. I just felt kind of dumb and dull. I wasn’t excited. I didn’t feel invincible. I just felt dumber. Wait, is dumber a word? See, that’s the kind of shit smoking pot will do to you. Maybe if you were stressed out or had a really rubbish life that you wanted to disconnect from, then I could maybe see it being a viable substitute, but it would never be the drug for me. Heroin is the drug of world powers; marijuana is the drug of hippie bums.

Uncle Tony still couldn’t grasp her lifestyle. “You do this but you don’t drink?”

“This is good for you. Alcohol is poison and it’s addictive. This relaxes you and releases your body from the stress of the world.”

I snorted as I tried to retain my laughter.

Everyone looked at me and I could help but let it go. Giggles and chuckles and chortles and laughs fell out of my mouth.

“You’re stupid,” I laughed, “like you’re just really dumb.”

Scotch just smiled mildly.

“I think it’s time to drive you home,” Uncle Tony suggested and without reproach she collected her things. My parents walked her out with Uncle Tony and thanked her for the meal, promising to return the favour. Sometimes I could almost forget that my family wasn’t normal.