Most of my weekend was running holiday errands with Kristina. I was punchy and on theater overload... and thus my brain was even more random than usual. We turned onto California Street prompting me to start singing The Red Hot Chile Peppers. We got our tree, resolving the name to usurp Bob was Flea. So, in spite of my exhaustion, we had to go out and find pepper lights to hang on the tree.
A nice twist to the ancient Germanic custom.
We still couldn't find a lobster though...
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