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It's becoming more apparent that soon I will be the last hold-out for sentimentality and tradition.
Starting with Thanksgiving dinner.
Dressing, to go with the turkey, is a necessity–whether you like it or not.
Ditto the pumpkin pie.
I had neither last week.
I was part of a group of people who decided a potluck dinner was the easiest solution.
Neither dressing nor pie was my responsibility.
I wish it had been.
It didn't feel like Thanksgiving without the two things that evoke childhood memories and make me all warm and fuzzy inside.
And we had (gasp!) instant mashed potatoes.
Thank goodness there was gravy to mask the (non) flavor.
Next year will be different.
I think I am one of the few who still decorates my tree in the traditional manner.
On it you will find ancient ornaments, crocheted angels and ones lovingly made by my children over the years. Unfortunately mice got into the ones made from flour years ago.
Each ornament tells a story and again, brings happier times to mind.
Decorator trees are to be admired, but I won't have one in my house–not as long as Jean-Luc Picard and a manatee are still hanging around.
I've always sent scores of cards during the Christmas season. This weekend I went on a search for those cards because I always select ones that reach from beyond the box and speak to me.
There has to be one funny box and one religious box.
After visiting two stores, I was sorely disappointed at what I had to choose from. Pickings were mighty slim and I said so to the lady who was also rifling through them.
"I guess people aren't sending them the way they once did," she said.
And that's a shame.
It may be easier and cheaper to send e-cards but there's something about displaying them this time of year.
It's called tradition.