Tradition? Or Tedium?

Every November, I make the short trip to a holiday bazaar not far from my house.   When my daughters were young, they loved going along with me to this thing; sometimes they would even bring a friend.  Hey, this is more than just a Christmas craft bazaar; they give away free shrimp & meatballs, cappuccinos and Italian sodas, cookies and brownies.  There are prize drawings and raffles, musical entertainment, and if you’re into it, a wine tasting and even a masseuse!

The last few years, though, my daughters have declined to accompany me.  There’s a reason for that.  Here’s the weird part: this shindig is hosted by a high-end  nursing home (for advertising).

Yeah, I know: weird.  But the craft prices are mostly right, and there are no baked goods like those made by little old ladies.  Speaking of old ladies, there’s an old friend I always see on this day.  Also, today, I ran into one of my square dancing friends (pardon the pun).  Oh, for the record, the latter, new friend is not as advanced in years.

My favorite booths today were dog toys, logo light-switch covers, and cards featuring iris folding. The winner for most overpriced dumbness goes to wine bottles with a string of lights stuffed inside.  All I bought today were some cookies for Hubby.  (Okay, okay; I ate one.)

After I’d had my fill of shrimp, coffee, and everything made of patterned fleece or crocheted yarn, I ambled out, into the crisp autumn air.  As I started the car, all by my lonesome, I found myself remembering days gone by—simpler days—when my adorable little girls would be so pleased with their Way Cool Mommy taking them to exciting places!  Like the Library! The Blueberry Festival! A Sidewalk Sale! Or the Annual Christmas Bazaar.  For them, it was a great adventure:  stacks of picture books for Daddy to read to them, a secret surprise if they threw the coin in the cup, stores selling things right on the street, a jumping castle, or being big girls and approaching the lady in the fancy black outfit and ordering their very own Italian soda.

Traditions.  Yes.  …May my daughters make some for their little ones too.  …And bring Grandma along.

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