It's the Final Countdown

Patient Reader, in case you didn't realize it, there are SIX shopping days left before Christmas. We're all about the public service here at the Roadtrip.

Roadchick's shopping is nearly complete. There are a few gift cards that have to be purchased and that should be about it. Then the orgy of wrapping must commence.

Wrapping the gifts is the 'chick's least favorite part of the holidays. She hates it worse than the shopping.

Speedbump, always helpful, will be in the center of everything as cats always are, just when you don't want them there.

Moods are still reasonably good. Festivities are planned, both with Roadchick's family and Redneck's family. A good time will most likely be had by all.

The 'chick was thinking about holiday traditions today. As the "Official Keeper of the Traditions", Roadchick is in charge of baking the cookies that were very much a part of the 'chick's growing up years. Her brothers expect them. There are threats of not being allowed in the house if cookies are not very much in evidence.

But, other than the cookies, there don't seem to be many traditions in the Roadtrip household. There were things that were tried and abandoned, mostly during the year of depression and Black Christmas. The tree with all the ornaments that the 'chick has collected throughout her life cannot be put up because Speedbump systematically strips the tree of the handmade, hand-beaded ornaments and dunks them in her water dish. Speedbump still enjoys climbing inside the tree and taking it apart, but now with just glass balls, it won't matter all that much if she does dunk them. But she hasn't, at least not yet.

For a few years, the 'chick and Rockboy joined her brother and his family to go look at Christmas lights. There was the one year that her brother was driving a hoopty (his work car) and everyone, including the brand new baby nephew, all piled in and went cruising. Rockboy and Roadchick's brother were both wearing hoodies and they pulled up their hoods low over their faces (they were in the front seat) and we blasted rap Christmas with the bass turned up as we cruised through the "rich" neighborhoods. One year, after a mini van was purchased, everyone piled in but Brother came down with stomach flu mid-viewing and there was a damn fast trip back home. He puked in the side yard of the 'chick's new house, thereby christening it as Chez Roadtrip. Ah, memories. . .

What tradition makes Christmas for you and your family? What is the one thing that if you didn't do it every year, it just wouldn't seem like Christmas?