Traditions

This time of the year lends itself to the keeping of (and sometimes reflections on) traditions. Everyone celebrates the holiday in different ways; some are the low-key Christmas types who put a small tree up and slap some sensible items under said tree ("Yes, there is a penny and an orange in your stocking, and the stocking is new too--now you've also got new socks!") and some are the holiday cheermeister types who begin planning for next Christmas on December 26. Most of us fall somewhere comfortably in between those two extremes. My mother is the original cheermeister, and as such, I have grown up believing that Christmas trees are for one purpose and one purpose only: to hold as many ornaments as they can without the branches snapping right off. Since I keep getting more ornaments, my trees also have gotten bigger over the years (we always buy a real one for the living room)--you should see the whopper Casey and Mygirl picked out for this year. Think Chevy Chase whomping off the top of his to make it fit in his living room and you'll be about right.

One of our Christmas traditions has always been to go to the annual Christmas parade in the town next to our own, and then everyone coming to my house for a post-parade party. We began this tradition with our friends, Lori and Chris, when their girls were tiny and Mygirl was barely walking. Those sweet girls of theirs are now in college/high school, as is my own little pumpkin . . . needless to say (Don't you hate that phrase? If it's needless to say, then why say it?) we've been doing this for a few years. I actually tried skipping last year's party and you would have thought I tried to cancel Christmas--everyone was aghast, including Casey. So I powered through and it was, as always, great fun. (I didn't even try to suggest skipping this year.) I made my famous peanut butter fudge, Shan brought her amazing shortbread (and her husband, Jamey, who endures our yearly shindig with amazing forbearance), Lori brought her delightful cheese ball. We ate lots and lots (Rotel dip and chips, sausage balls, little smokies, regular fudge, eggnog, cocoa--oh my groaning gut!) and then played a game. Usually we do Pictionary, but this year, I had a new one called "Would You Rather" (thank you, Glenn Beck, for promoting it on your radio program). It was fun, though we were a little unsure about the challenge portion of the game (right, Trish?) and decided that next time we play, we will just skip the challenge and do the questions. (For example: Would you rather be physically attractive but exude an offensive odor OR be unattractive but have an irresistible smell?) Yeah--those kind of questions.

After everyone left and Casey and I cleaned up (I have always said that you can judge the success of a party based on the mess left behind--and we had a SUC-CESSFUL party, friends) I basked in the warm glow I always feel after our annual post-Christmas parade party--that glow you get from spending time with old friends who love you, no matter what. And so I am taking a personal moment to speak to those friends. (Feel free to skip to the end if you are one of those who are bored during actor acknowledgments during the Oscars. You can start the oh-so subtle music to tell me it's time to shut up, but since it's my blog, I will probably ignore you.)

Shannon, you have been my best friend since college. The only people who know me as well as you do are Casey and my sister. You are the friend who, when we are both very, very old, will remember me not as I am, with my wrinkles and white hair, but as who I was--big-haired and skinny, roaming the campus of JBU in the middle of the night as we searched for Easter eggs and giggled hysterically over the bad pizza Kenny made us. I hope you will keep that me locked in your memory, and I promise, I will keep that you, the one with the wall o'hair, safe too.

Lori and Chris, you are both our friend-friends and our "couple" friends--a rare and precious commodity. I love that we enjoy being together, the four of us, and that in our separate ways, Casey and Chris have their friendship, and Lori and I have ours. I love that Lori and I always pair up when we play games, and we always beat our fellas at whatever we are playing. I also love that they are still willing to play with us anyway. You both have been the parents we have watched and taken cues from when it comes to our own parenting. Your girls are delights, and it has been a privilege to get to watch them grow with you. Your two were Mygirl's first friends, and though Myboy no longer wants to marry your eldest, they both still light up when they hear we are going to be around the K girls. You did a GOOD JOB with those two precious creatures. It delights me that they still want to come over and hang out with us sometimes--dolls, the pair of them.

Trish, you're my newest friend in this bunch, and I love that you are game for anything--even standing in an awkward pose with Mygirl in the game last night. We may be newish friends, but our MK personalities make us old familiars, I think. I look forward to sharing our tradition with you for many, many years to come. And I do believe that Mygirl has claimed you as a true kindred spirit, so there ya go.

Ah, tradition. Without it, the first Saturday in December would be just another day. But it's not. Thankfully, gleefully, hilariously, fully, it's not.