I loooove holidays. No, seriously. I make my boyfriend celebrate Dia de los Muertos every year. I have a Halloween specific cookbook. I began decorating my house for Christmas yesterday, and I'm not going to stop until the entire place is festooned ( that's right, festooned) with paper garlands and those paper stars you make when you are a kid ( more to come on my holiday "Living in" ala Design*Sponge).
But, lately, and I was just discussing this with emily wexler, the magic of familial tradition has felt thin and routine. Ever since my grandparents died and my aunt picked up and moved off without so much as a fare-thee-well, things have been weird. At first, old people Christmas was fun. We got up at noon, drank bloody marys (maries?) and finished off with the holiday by two. Now, this feels less fun. As does the gauntlet of pre-season errands my mother usually takes me on. Lately, everything feels tiring and sort of perfunctory.
This year, my project is to enjoy the season. Really, truly, recapture some of the magic that it felt in the holiday season. I have lots of little projects to that end, and I'll share some of them along the way. The task I set forth today, and intend on completeing this week, is to write a letter to Santa. I haven't done that in years, because a. it is supposedly weird for adults and b. in this modern world, all my present requests are usually carefully delineated by budget and practicality. Well, this letter will have none of that. No budget, no practical requests and perhaps best of all, no real expectations. Just that sort of tingly hope feeling that maybe, just maybe, I might get one of those imposible things I just wished for. After all, I have been pretty good.
I fully intend on sending it as well. How bout it folks? Wouldn't you like to send a grown-up letter to Santa? What would you ask for? Let me know...
But, lately, and I was just discussing this with emily wexler, the magic of familial tradition has felt thin and routine. Ever since my grandparents died and my aunt picked up and moved off without so much as a fare-thee-well, things have been weird. At first, old people Christmas was fun. We got up at noon, drank bloody marys (maries?) and finished off with the holiday by two. Now, this feels less fun. As does the gauntlet of pre-season errands my mother usually takes me on. Lately, everything feels tiring and sort of perfunctory.
This year, my project is to enjoy the season. Really, truly, recapture some of the magic that it felt in the holiday season. I have lots of little projects to that end, and I'll share some of them along the way. The task I set forth today, and intend on completeing this week, is to write a letter to Santa. I haven't done that in years, because a. it is supposedly weird for adults and b. in this modern world, all my present requests are usually carefully delineated by budget and practicality. Well, this letter will have none of that. No budget, no practical requests and perhaps best of all, no real expectations. Just that sort of tingly hope feeling that maybe, just maybe, I might get one of those imposible things I just wished for. After all, I have been pretty good.
I fully intend on sending it as well. How bout it folks? Wouldn't you like to send a grown-up letter to Santa? What would you ask for? Let me know...