…we drove through the early-evening dark with it tied to the roof of the car. My sister, Betsy, was with us. She had bought a fresh wreath and held it in her lap, pine needles dropping onto the upholstery. I remembered the radio station that plays all Christmas music in December, and the lights on the houses inspired me to take the long way from the Farmer’s Market downtown to Betsy’s house near Lake Harriet, through the wintry woods of Wirth Park and along the parkways that meander through the oldest, nicest neighborhoods in Minneapolis.
ESG: Let’s see how the rich people in the big houses celebrate the holidays.
Betsy: I like to peek through their windows and see inside.
Demigoddess the Younger: I like to illegally trespass in their houses.
Demigoddess the Elder: I like to steal their cars.
"God bless us, every one."