Stories. I want stories.
You see, I’m about to get on some planes, see some loved ones, some liked ones and some tolerated ones, and engage in the bittersweet, aggravating, soul-warming, rich, shallow, crazy, predictable, surprising, labour-intensive rituals of the season.
In between I’ll be doing some course prep, some marking. Christmas, for academics, is fraught with the semester behind and the one just round the corner.
What are your seasonal stories?
How do the Christmas lights make you feel? What are you doing solstice eve?
What are you baking, cooking or eating this season?
Is there a certain taste, spice or smell you long for? Did the shortbread end up being dry as sand, did your latkes satisfy?
Are you en famille?
Are you in exile?
Have you managed to create your own queer, irreverent, or politicized celebrations?
Do you love to wrap yourself in peaceful solitariness and ignore the whole damn thing?
Thank you for all of your lovely comments, anecdotes, food recommendations and recipes this past year. And thank you for quietly lurking and reading. With this blog I do feel connected to a larger human story.
But right now, I need to be fed.
So please, be my Scheherazade, and tell me a story (so I can prolong this blog’s life into the new year!)