Of Gingerbread and Tinsel

Now more than any other time (at least here in the dominantly Christian-thinking world), there are traditions to uphold. Home-baked cookies, hand-made teacher presents, tinsel, inflatable Santas, fresh trees and countless other expectations rattle around all month, making a mockery of any aplomb we...I...might typically have. In my world, past years have provided greater opportunities to bake more cookies than I knew what to do with, or decorate the house within an inch of its life.

This year is a bit more challenging. Part of the shift is that with the two of us here, I spend a larger percentage of my time doing things like dishes, laundry and general household maintenance; another is that I'm no longer a grad student or a stay-at-home parent who can readily carve out extra time to do these things. And the biggest change is that in an effort simplify my world, things like "more tinsel" have lost their meaning. All of this leads, as I've alluded to before, to figuring out what does have meaning.

There's a traditional cookie that I make--it comes from my spouse's grandmother's grandmother's mother. The dough for that is resting in the refrigerator. It has meaning.

As for the rest of the cookies--and there must be cookies--I have decided to return to the cookies of my childhood. Thank you, Sara Lee and Archway, for your sugar cookies. Already decorated with sprinkles and colored, glittery sugar, they taste like childhood. I had a working, single-parent mother and, curiously enough, don't look back on those store-baked holidays with anything but fond affection. Those cookies have meaning, too, but in an unexpected and slightly off-kilter (just like me, my family, my life) way.

I've baked gingerbread houses in the past--whipped out the royal icing, the gumdrops and the nonpareils. This year, I signed us up at the NYC Wine and Culinary Center where, for a reasonable(ish) fee, we get to join other families and decorate a gingerbread house that NYCWCC has already baked and assembled. It may not be quite the same as the ones I've baked, but I suspect it's still going to be a good memory to make and hold. When I mentioned it to my boy, his face lit up. I could promise that we'll bake one but honestly? The big day is 9 days from now. Instead of a decorated cookie, we'd be left with a broken promise. We don't need any more of those. Meaning.

So now, the tree has been put up, and there are some lights outside. I'm declaring myself finished, ready to prop up my feet, pour a glass of eggnog (with a bit of bourbon), watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas" and relax with people I love. Sounds like my kind of holiday. Meaningful, simple, and a reminder that for me at least, this holiday is about cycles, and renewals, and the return of hope, light and, if we're lucky, peace and sanity.