So finding myself alone in the house, not counting dogs and cat, and having imbibed a few seasonally appropriate "winter ales", I find myself singing out loud many a Christmas carol, though I hardly bring to mind more than a line or two of the lyrics. But the pleasant affects of seasonal ales sends my freed and loosened cerebrum upon many a lesser road not taken journey, and so I find my myself pondering life's greater mysteries. . . such as "Just what is wassailing?"