Not long before Christmas, Grandma Jingo managed to chivvy the whole Jingo clan to a "family-friendly" event at Wolf Trap Park, apparently an annual affair, where the Marine Band played ecumenical Christmas music, with even a few Channukah (there is no incorrect way to spell that word, so I'm not even going to check) numbers thrown in. The audience of Christmas-sweater moms, Promise-Keeper dads and bored anklebiters prattled incessantly when not braying along with "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Peshmerga Gunsel" and rattling jingle bells imported for the occasion.
This is, it goes without saying, not a scene most likely to fill your man with a rosy glow of Gemuetlichkeit.
Near the climax of the proceedings, the Matriarch leaned over and asked me if I was cold.
"Why not at all, Mother," I beamed at her; "I've got my loathing to keep me warm."
Now you can too. I'm particularly fond of Number 3 on the list.