Wednesday, December 20, 2017

I'm hung.

No self-respecting southerner uses instant grits *or* hangs an evergreen wreath. After years of wanting one, I finally have a magnolia wreath to greet all the merrymakers that show up at my doorstep. My friend Suzanne made it for me and only asked for a bottle of prosecco. (A self-respecting southerner would've requested a bottle of Old Crow.)

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