[PM: Minkah Tehuti]
If you're clever, you'll save yourself the ulcer that is spending the holidays with my mother's family, but I thought I'd ask just in case you've some masochistic streak that has until this point remained concealed.
They all sing like a sack of live hens what's been lit on fire. My mother makes eggnog with three parts brandy and one part custard and it always, always disappears by the end of the evening. That might explain the singing, but it can't explain the invasive caroling, char-broiled pudding, weepy confessional session, or the children being forced to put on a Punch & Judy retelling of the annunciation. Or perhaps the eggnog does explain all that...
Would you like to subject yourself to an Innes (and Spenser) family Christmas? You can't say I didn't warn you if indeed your answer is yes.
They all sing like a sack of live hens what's been lit on fire. My mother makes eggnog with three parts brandy and one part custard and it always, always disappears by the end of the evening. That might explain the singing, but it can't explain the invasive caroling, char-broiled pudding, weepy confessional session, or the children being forced to put on a Punch & Judy retelling of the annunciation. Or perhaps the eggnog does explain all that...
Would you like to subject yourself to an Innes (and Spenser) family Christmas? You can't say I didn't warn you if indeed your answer is yes.