RecipeMuncher

Every year on Christmas morning, we do the exact same thing. It’s actually scary how fine-tuned it is, actually. My sister is never able to sleep, so she’ll get up around 4 or 5a and just sit in one of our wingback chairs and stare at the Christmas tree. If, as is most often the case, she has been the final decider on tree choice, the angel at the top will hit our ceiling. The rest of us tend towards smaller trees, but Rach always pushes for it to be as tall as possible. By 6a, my m (...)