Day 56: As I grew older, I came to realize something: traditions change. St. Nicholas no longer throws a bag of candy through the back door. Santa doesn't come down the chimney. The screw bases on the old lights don't fit the new strings. The ancient glass ornaments shed their paint like dandruff and are replaced by sets of plastic apples and handmade velvet baubles, which in turn are replaced by wooden birds. Conscience rears its head to dictate that killing a tree is a grievous sin, and an artificial one takes its place. Even now, my traditions are in flux. I've stopped sending cards or even a Christmas letter. The sisters-of-the-heart have decided that this will be our last "12 Days" gift exchange. The tree and almost all the decorations will stay in their boxes because it would be unfair to spend the season reprimanding a small cat for being a cat. But spritz? It's not Christmastime without spritz. I almost always make them on St. Nicholas' Day (I decorated this batch this morning). Sometimes, a week or two later, I make Russian tea cakes (aka "Sandies"), but they are not as traditional as spritz. It may be a small straw, but holding onto it gives me hope.
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