Traditions are a peculiar thing. So many times, we have no clue where they began, or why we continue with them. But questionable or not, unless you’re one to rebel for the sake of rebelling (not that I know anything of this!), the cycles continue. There’s this unwritten rule, this self-inflicted code, that makes us strive to keep them, or else. Or else what? Consequences, perhaps. Or possibly the feeling of being out-of-sorts. Maybe it’s in seeking comfort we follow our well trodden paths, or even the fear of the unknown. Whatever the reason, traditions seem to be an undeniable part of life.

Growing up, I don’t remember being overly excited for Christmas. Sure, we’d get to visit family most years, enjoy a big meal and each others company. But I never understood what all the excitement was about. I wasn’t ever a big fan of Santa, and candy canes only hold so much appeal… But Christmas Eve? That was a completely different story. It was our family time, to relax with a casual meal… And most importantly when you’re a kid, that was when we traditionally opened our gifts. Why Christmas Eve? I’m still clueless.

And then there’s Valentine’s Day. It arrives every year in a flurry of chocolate and hearts and the color red. Granted, I would never be found objecting to any of these things. I mean, dark chocolate is a friend I’d love to have nearby at all hours. And I have a flaming red heart tattoo. So in principal, I should hold no objections to this day, nor do I really. (It’s also about love or something like that, right? Which I’m okay with, too.) But in keeping with a custom I established more years ago than I’d care to admit to, and established in somewhat of a protest fashion, I must always wear black. Which anymore is typical of my every day appearance, but becomes necessary on February 14 of each year. I cannot help it if I like black, okay? It matches the color of my heart. Ha!

Easter has its own traditions, so numerous it’s hard to know where to begin. Primarily, most involve sugar, that is a given. I mean, have you been shopping during the Easter season? Candy overload, maybe more so than Halloween. Candy eggs, bunnies, chocolate, marshmallows, edible grass…And did anyone notice they make crosses out of chocolate now? (Not that I want to get started on my despise of all things tacky when it comes to the marketing of anything Christian.) I digress…

Anyway, in the excess of all things sugar and holiday related, there is always some form of Marshmallow Peeps available for consumption. I think that’s what they’re for anyway. Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of them, although I appreciate how creative people have become with them. Peeps sushi, anyone? Like them or not, usually a package ends up in my house around Easter. (Because it’s tradition, okay?!) And then the Peeps wait. Eyes unwavering, staring out from their cellophane wrapper knowing that in due time, they will follow the path of other peeps before them. Sometime soon after Easter has passed, and the skies have relented from their endless downpour, a gathering takes place. In the chill of  a damp Oregon evening, a pyre is built. The skewers are found. The impaling begins…

Do you have any odd traditions you’d care to share?