These days I still love the holidays. I can get into it, but not like I used to. I am tired. It isn't fun anymore. I am glad that I am no longer having to divide my time between my family and my late husband's family for holidays. That gets old fast. I no longer feel guilty for making 10 tins of fudge when I needed 12. I don't make it at all I I don't care.
There is one thing that is expected each year. I am the one making it happen. It is the Christmas picture with Maya. She has gotten wise to the whole selfie thing with the phone and tries to escape when she realizes what I am doing. This year I couldn't even get a good straight- on picture. I was holding her collar to keep her sitting there for this photo. She is 8, so I know that I only have a few more years to torture my beloved dog this way. I don't think she hates me for it, but I am pretty sure that I saw her roll her eyes at me, in the fashion of an annoyed teenager.
I don't feel obligated to send Christmas cards. I want to. I really do. But each year I buy them and then put off completing and sending them for a few week. I am not sure why. But eventually I get to it and bust them out in one evening while watching tv. It isn't even like I am composing individual messages or including a copied holiday letter. Nope. I sign them, address them and lick them shut.
I kinda wish someone had pressed me to make a pumpkin pie this year. I miss pumpkin pie...
