holidaze

I read an article about how a pop star in England (how do I not know her name?) sang for the Oxford Street lighting and I smiled, remembering how in England Christmas decorations popped up immediately following the first of November. I say bring it on. Bring on the rush of holidays. I'm no hater of commercialism and I delight in rounding the corner of Target and seeing a fake Christmas tree display, racks of shiny packaged ornaments, Christmas music piped in. The older I get the more I love the holidays. I love sitting in Borders drinking some sort of spicy holiday blend coffee, flipping through the pages of a magazine that's going to instruct me how to stay cool when the relatives show and not gain ten pounds. I love the gift-giving ideas, things I'd never consider, things I can't afford: "Why not keep her warm this Christmas with a soft cashmere throw?" Love it, love it all, even the unaffordable.

I love the idea of the holidays presented between the glossy pages of magazines: the large extended family in New Mexico giving their Thanksgiving traditions a kick of chile; turkeys rubbed down with hand-grown rosemary. Families in toggled sweaters and ski boots in Vermont nibbling on goat cheese h'orderves. Or maybe I read too many cooking magazines.

The holidays don't stress me out and if they do, it's in a good way. In college we'd freak over final exams, literally fall to the floor at 3 a.m. in this heap of notes and books. We'd pull all-nighters and walk around the next day in a haze, all dark undereyes and serene smiles like "It wasn't that bad." Like martyrs. We'd take breaks for student lounge coffee and tuna melts and french fries and exchange Secret Santa presents. Most of all, we'd lament "missing" the holiday season, it was the rush rush rush of finals throughout December and then two days before Christmas Eve, we were home, exclaiming over the things we'd miss—twinkling lights draped around the house, the smell of the evergreen, the cookies we'd never baked but always wanted to.

Now that I'm, um, officially a grown-up (?), I like to start my own traditions. Taking the back roads to classes to see what sort of lights and inflatable Santas neighbors have put up; shopping online or in Target on off-days, to avoid the crowds; gingerbread lattes, now sugar-free; a baking session with my mans (last year it was gingerbread men, the year before, biscotti); helping my mom with her Christmas cookie and extravagent gift-giving; putting up a Christmas tree complete with as many tacky childhood ornaments as my mom would give me while watching "Elf."

I'll have to write a whole other post about Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving Eve: another favorite.