Holiday Cheer

I'm not a fan of people. Less so of gatherings of people. And even less still of gatherings of people in my home.

Why, then, am I having a Christmas party in my home this year?

I, of course, host parties because I'm filled with holiday cheer.

For me holiday cheer means three things:

1). Holiday cheer = Chef Butchy.

I like to cook. I especially like to prepare themed-foods, whether it's a crucified Jesus carved out of Hebrew National hot dogs, anatomically correct foods for a coming out party, a skull meatloaf for Halloween, or wreath-shaped appetizers for Christmas. Folks call me Butchy Crocker for a reason.

2). Holiday cheer = not greeting folks with a sawed-off shotgun.

Kate seems to think it's healthy for me to interact with people. As much as I'd rather not interact with people in in my free time, I concede that she's probably right. I don't want to end up like my great aunt Alta, who didn't leave her house for at least a decade and always kept a sawed-off shotgun by her side.

3). Holiday cheer = clean floors.

Having folks in my home gives me the motivation to mop my hardwood floors. I keep a pretty clean and tidy house, but I loathe mopping. Kate's not a mopper either, so we have to invite folks over a few times a year, or this chore would never get done.