Well, I'll freely admit it -- I love the holiday season. I do, I can't help it. I love the way lights and decorations gradually transform streets and entire neighborhoods. I enjoy the quickening of the pace of life. I like the way parties and seasonal events pop up everywhere. I love giving and receiving gifts, I enjoy sending cards -- the key to those last two items may be that I generally give gifts and send cards only to people I really want to give/send to. Meaning far less now than in years past. One result of that: the number of cards coming in has fallen sharply, especially now that my living sitch has begun hopping all over the map. And that's fine. The cards that make it through are generally from people who really want to make sure I get them. And some now arrive via e-mail, which works just as well for me.
The number of gifts I pass out has also dwindled, now mostly items I genuinely want to give, given to people I truly want to give 'em to. I have little biological family left, the connections between us aren't currently very strong, so the gifts that find their way to me are minimal. Which feels just fine. I appreciate the thought and effort behind what actually shows up.
I like the look of the light this time of the year, I like the snap to the air. I like the way people dress in response to the changing weather, to the coming holidays. I like seasonal craft fairs and rummage sales, I like wandering through places like that with friends. I like that people become more mindful re: some of the more important aspects of existence -- making each other happy, enjoying the day, letting others know what they mean to us.
The Christmas season's all right with me. I know there are circles where an admission like that is akin to admitting cretinism, but there it is.