It may be obvious that Christmas is not my favorite holiday.  Actually, I’d be fine with scrapping everything from December 1st to March 1st.  I don’t like the winter and Christmas and Valentine’s Day are such a struggle that the only bright light is New Years.

Every year since we have been together (and this will be our 4th Christmas), the Hubby throws a fit abut the Christmas tree.  We’re never having another one.  He can’t stand the cats messing with it.  It sheds too many pine needles.  There’s glitter everywhere.  The Christmas tree is the only real tradition that we have.  This is the second year we’ve had a real one and we’ve gone and bought new shatterproof ornaments and had a completely different tree.  I look forward to it.

If anything, I am a person of tradition and the more I think about it the more I wonder if this recent dislike for Christmas has to do with the lack of tradition.  It used to be that I spent Thanksgiving decorating with my parents.  Now I spend it trying to get everything ready in time to go wherever we are going for the day.  Mom and I used to bake.  We tried last year but it just kind of didn’t work out right.  We used to drive through Crossroads Village to see the lights every year.

I have been trying to think of a new tradition to start.  Something that the Hubby will like too.  It’s just hard, you know.  You work all day and you’re sick for two weeks running and you have to sweep every day and run the dishes and clean up the messes that accumulate in 24 hours.  By the time you have a spare moment you’re too tired to do much more than stare at the TV until you fall asleep.  We haven’t had candy canes this year and we haven’t watched more than 30 minutes of a holiday movie.  Being around such a humbug has made me more of a humbug.  I just got my cards done and hung up the ones we’ve received.

Yesterday when I got home I took the long way around the neighborhood and looked at the lights.  You know, I never thought that I would be the kind of person who didn’t have lights.


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