I know it's all the rage to rage about this time of the year, and though I'd like to be edgy I just ain't. I confess it here and now: I wove Christmas!
But first, my brief definition of Christmas: That month at the end of the year where everyone is their very best them; when you remember favorite times from childhood, when there are decorations and songs and food and parties and everything is just that much better. It culminates with a day where you give presents to your loved ones and stand there grinning like a doof while they open them, and then you eat til you want to be murdered by a benevolent loved one. And then eat more. And more. And seriously? Yes, more.
There's no religion in my Christmas. It's cool with me if anyone else wants to add religion to their holiday, but for me this one (like all the others) is about family and friends and love and happiness, but not about religion. It's also about tradition. Craploads and craploads of cool, sentimental, make you gulpy traditions, my people. (And the food thing, which I really can't mention enough!)
I wove the whole friggin' time! I wove:
- Watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas," "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" on tv and cranking the volume during all the songs
- That Peppermint candy flavor of ice cream that you can't seem to get any other time of the year!
- Tromping around the tree farm du jour (except "of the year" rather than "of the day" but whatever) looking for the tree with the right amount of space between the branches for the long ornaments
- The look on my Mom's face the first time I put on Nat King Cole's Christmas album just for her
- sitting with my dad at some ungodly hour of Christmas morning, having both finished and wrapped our final Christmas projects, now basking in the lovely white glow of the Christmas lights on the tree, which is itself totally overwhelmed by beautiful packages.