I have had a very mercurial relationship with holidays over the years.
As an “F-this” punk rock teenager became an “I’m doing this MY way” adult, I have both boycotted and embraced traditional holidays, depending on the moment and my level of patience in that moment. One thing is always the same: I sail through the entire year, enjoying the pagan rituals of the earth during each season, free-spirited and brimming with life...then suddenly, December rolls around. And it gets weird.
Somehow it feels like if I don’t do SOMETHING on December 24th and 25th, I’ve missed out. Silly, right? Conditioning, I suppose.
Fortunately, my co-star feels the same.
Despite highly enjoyable Winter Solstice romps, we still have to steer our wildly adorned pirate ship through the waters claimed by our families - a strange pool of largely cultural, rather than religious, Jews and Christians...with a few atheists thrown in.
So we’ve developed our own rituals over the years that came about organically, and have somehow stuck.
There is a candelabra instead of a tree, all dressed up in orange and pink flicker lights, topped by Edgar the crow, and featuring a disco ball, a high-heeled slipper, a Turkish coin belt, a African talisman, and a miniature replica of Gene Simmons' Kiss boots.
Gifts gather at the base of Cleopatra, who has watched over me for many, many moons.
Dinner this year was a sumptuous feast of vegan Indian delights carefully prepared by moi, followed by cold bubbly and the annual, never-gets-old Lord of The Rings marathon.
It was AWESOME.
Won’t you share your rituals with me in the comments below? I’d love to hear!