December is for Cynics

In conversation at our Friday snack meeting at work, the topic of Secret Santa came up. I'm a Grinch about Secret Santa; I refuse to take part in this activity. This strikes some people as odd because I love giving presents, I love doing things for others and yet, I refuse to take part in this Christmas activity which embraces both of those things.

We used to do Secret Santa things in elementary school. I always put effort into mine to make my Secret Santa feel special, and I never ever got anything back. It's not that I need something when I give it, but I think that the people who commit and never deliver take the fun out of everything. 

I opt to be the cookie fairy. All year long. 

My University friends used to tease me, though they loved it. During exams, when someone was feeling down, or whenever I was feeling particularly domestic, I would bake cookies. And deliver them around campus/the city. For the past three years, I've been sending cookies in the mail for Christmas to some specific people. It's not limited to Christmas, sometimes it happens for Valentine's Day, to cheer someone up, or for no reason at all. I like to make people's day. Especially because I never tell people when they're coming. I love to get a call from a friend back in Ontario informing me how getting my little package made their horrible, rotten, no-good, very bad day absolutely wonderful. It makes me feel good.

So last night, I had a glass of wine, took off layers as the heat overtook the apartment, danced around to Christmas carols, my hair in disarray, covered in white stuff... and this morning I delivered those cookies to Canada Post.

I also left a container of shortbread and fudgey, peanut butter goodness outside the door of our neighbours, inviting them to our Ugly Sweater Christmas party next Saturday. Because cookies are a pretty easy way of making new friends, and if that doesn't work, we'll throw in some ugly sweaters and booze.