My Mom's house is covered in Santas. Every available surface. She collects them. And while I think they're lovely - in her house - clearly the holiday decor gene skips a generation in our family. The holiday gene for that matter.
Last weekend's visit was for the church bake sale. This weekend was for Mom's annual holiday brunch for her friends, family, and church ladies.
It was a Brunch & Book Signing actually. I was there to sign the books.
I show up where my mom tells me and do what my mom tells me, but I'm not entirely sure church ladies are my demo. Especially since I knew one of them had disowned her 40-something daughter when the daughter borrowed one of their family condos and - according to a nosy neighbor/spy - had an overnight gentleman caller. (With a Red Dodge 2500 in the garage.... From what we hear.)
The mom's response - to the 40-something daughter was: "we're not runnin a whorehouse here!"
I think she'd better skip Chapter 6... And 13.
And...
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