I love the holidays, but the pace can make me a little nuts. It feels like I've spent the last two weeks cooking, cleaning, and decorating. Each of those activities is fulfilling, in a limited way.
I gather the most pleasure from cooking. One look at my figure would tell anyone that. As I mentioned over at maryb's place, I love the communal nature of cooking. I hate cooking alone. I try to get Hugh to help me, but he always feels a bit reticent in the kitchen. I had a blast making the dill pickle soup and pyrohys (Ukrainian spelling for pierogies) on Christmas Eve. Just as soon as someone e-mail's me the pictures, I'll put them up.
I hate to clean, but I always feel good about myself after I've completed some truly awful cleaning job (like the hairball the awaits me in the basement).
Decorating for Christmas is always fun. It's the only time I allow really kitschy items to be seen in my house. Luckily, after Christmas, I'll get to do some real decorating. We will finally start to paint and my mother-in-law offered to buy us drapes for the living room and dining room. I guess she got sick of looking at those ugly Venetian blinds.
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