We wear bathrobes and wrap Jason’s ties around our heads, sit on the floor and eat fish, dates and unleavened bread with goat cheese by candlelight (and cheater Christmas tree light) as we sip on sparkling grape juice and rant about Roman tax laws.
It’s a simple, sacred way to spend the evening before the materialistic palooza the next morning.
This year, I didn’t have to wrap a necktie around my head like a hack, because I had my trusty Hoo-rag to use as my headband.
I looked like a Holy Land native as I rocked the Bethlehem rag.
I’m lovin’ this thing!