Off to the parental stronghold in the wilds of Pennsylvania! If I’m not back sometime next week, avenge my death.
P.S. I got my VERY OWN rubber chicken for Christmas. And James was given a small stuffed walrus and a container of honey mustard sauce, the symbolism of which should be obvious to all. We have cool friends.
Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.
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