My house still smells of garlicky stuffing. The stove is off. I keep checking it, but the seductive smell of my mom’s world famous stuffing is still wafting through the house like it’s coming out of the radiators. It’s even taken over my bedroom.
It makes me feel festive, and like there’s a party downstairs. I only eat or make stuffing at holidays, so that makes sense. But still, why is it lingering? I would think it would have cleared out by now.
Maybe it’s to remind me that during the hectic utter insanity of the holiday season, which we are smack in, as of today, December 1, I should pay more attention to the simplicity of a the smells, than the madness of the full on Martha Stewartization, make-your-house-perfect, get-that-santa-sack-of-gifts, CyberMonday, On-sale-now, get-’em-while-they’re-hot, only-10-shopping-days-til-Christmas, One Flew Over the Cukoo’s Nest CRAZINESS.
Or, anyway, that’s how I’m going to interpret it. I say it every year, but this year, it’s for real. I’m going to simplify, so that I can enjoy the merriment and good cheer of this particular time of year, and not give in to the holiday hysteria. What a gift.