Some traditions are hard to break

It's December and time once again, to deck the halls. The other night (with my husband's help) I brought down the dusty ornament boxes that have been stored in the garage all year, and sorted through the same old tired assortment of nutcrackers, reindeer, garlands and assundry trappings that I decorate the house with every holiday season.

Every year I try to be a little innovative by adding something new to freshen up the scene, but when it comes right down to it, most things are constant and unchanging. The mistletoe always goes on the nail over the kitchen door, the lighted garland goes on the mantel piece along with the tin santa's that I bought in Overland Park Kansas. The stockings are hung in the front living room and the dining room table is covered with a bright red tablecloth and set with green plates. Tomorrow we put up the tree and decorate it with the same ornaments, some which date all the way back to when I was five.

There are santas everywhere; on crockery, mugs, calendars, and even in the shape of cookies. Every December I say I won't go to the trouble of baking four different kinds of cookies and five loaves of cranberry bread...but, I always do. "Why bake" I say, "when Peppridge Farm puts out a dandy assortment of holiday cookies conveniently packaged and ready to eat!" But, after stating to my family that I would be boycotting the whole cooky baking scene, the kids all broke out in a clamour, and I realized that there would be no escape from holiday baking this year.

So, this Saturday you will find me laboring away in the kitchen making a huge floury mess and coating the floor with red and green sugar, as Bing Crosby croons "White Christmas" on the stero. Some traditions are just too hard to break.