That is an odd question.
However, I will answer it, ’cause what else am I here for? I prefer wrapping paper, because it’s much more exciting. You usually see where the gift bag comes from, which ruins a bit of the surprise, and there’s just something about the feeling of unwrapping something. I am very much used to wrapping paper, so I might be biased in this case, but whatever? I am never pretending not to be biased, so…
Come to think of it, it saddens me that I hardly keep any Christmas traditions anymore. There are a few things I always do at Christmas: Watch Christmas movie, drink mulled wine, suck on candy-canes in the more tasty way… But any direct traditions we haven’t had in my close circle as of lately.
However, we do have one that I greatly appreciate, and that is our family tradition on Boxing Day. On this day, I visit my maternal family, and it is always nice to catch up with them. I still get along with my cousins very well, and the food is always amazing.
That must be my favorite current Christmas tradition.
My all-time favorite holiday smell, has got to be the smell of gingerbread dough. My grandmother (you must be fucking bored – all my childhood memories have to do with my grandmother, but whatever) always made gingerbread from scratch and my mother, my siblings and I used to come over to her place to shape them.
And the smell of – not necessarily the cookies, but the dough – was so heavy in the air that I still remember it clearly, even though it has been five years since the last time we made gingerbread together.
The easiest people to buy for, are almost always those who actually provide you with specific wishes. In my case this year, the easiest person to buy for is my mom, as she has done just that and did so quite early this month. I have a few friends as well who aren’t difficult in that department.
It varies from year to year, but in my case, the easiest people to buy for are usually those who can provide me with a concrete list of wishes, or just one or two concrete wishes.
This is my teeny tiny Christmas tree that I bought nineteen years ago. Still standing strong, that little fellow.
Wood, for sure! Mostly because of the smell, and the nice way it stings my fingers when I decorate it. It’s the little things. I doubt I will ever have a wooden tree of my own when I move out, though. Seems too much stress for me to bare with. I have a small one in plastic now, though, that I have had since I was two years old. Of nice quality, that one! But yes, I most certainly prefer wooden trees as opposed to those made of plastic.
It comes clearer to you as you grow older, that the best gifts that you can remember, aren’t necessarily the ones you considered the best ones when you were younger. Speaking from a somewhat shallow perspective, though, my grandmother spoiled us rotten when she was alive. She took our wishlists into clever consideration, analyzed them, asked my mother which one of the toys we had listed was the biggest, most massive and most expensive, and then she went out, and bought it. Briefly spoken, the biggest, hardest present was always from her. Now that she is gone, however, I also have come to cherish all the jewelry and clothes she bought me. I still have a woolen sweater she bought me for Christmas the year I was sixteen, and it’s nice to still be able to wear something she bought me.
4TH OF DECEMBER: FAVORITE CHRISTMAS SONG:
Some old friends of mine would likely go to their grave swearing that my favorite Christmas song is Santa Claus is Coming to Town, but they would be mistaken. While that song is a treasure of mine for reasons I won’t get into at the moment, my absolute favorite will be the not at all unorthodox Fairytale of New York sung by Kirsty MacColl and The Pogues. I love that song, not only because it is catchy as fuck, but because the lyrics are fucking awesome. A very unorthodox Christmas song, that I can’t help but fall in love with every time Christmas comes around.
Wh… But… You mean there is no Santa Claus?????
I think I must have been quite young, considering I don’t remember the exact moment. I remember a time – probably when I was about two-three years old, when I heard people – kids out in the street or whatnot – tell me Santa wasn’t real, but I laughed them off, ’cause “duh, I had seen him, asshole!” I think I must have found out sometime around the Christmas of 1998, which I spent at my grandparents’ house. I am not sure if my family just did a poor job of covering or what it was, but I suddenly became awfully suspicious that some of the gifts were from Santa whereas others were from family members – and they all fit into the same bag. Didn’t make sense at all to me. I believe that was when I found out.