I’m a really big fan of tradition.
To sort of an obsessive degree.
And I don’t just mean holiday traditions. I can make ANYTHING a tradition. Like ordering the exact same thing every time I go to a specific restaurant.
Oh, I’ll play at changing things up. Sit for 10 minutes agonizing over the menu. I’ll narrow it down to two options: something BOLD and NEW, and my old mainstay. Then I wait for the server to call upon me to pick my poison. And it is always, ALWAYS what I usually get.
I’m in the throes of something similar over my holiday menu. Ever since I started doing this myself, I’ve used the same recipes for each component of the meal. Same apple pie filling. Same stuffing. Same candied sweet potatoes.
This morning I even tweeted, looking for pie crust suggestions! See:
And I got suggestions! Really good ones. Pie crusts that look delicious and different and flaky and magnificent.
But probably? Probably I’ll end up using my same recipe I’ve been trying to perfect forever. Certain that THIS TIME will be different.
Really, it’s that I hate to make decisions. About anything. When I was ordering cloth diaper covers for Roo several months back, I AGONIZED over what colors to buy. Uh. Why? Why would I put myself through that? It is a diaper color, not a BOMB WIRE. Red or green? IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE HERE. I thought Matt was going to lock me out of the house and internet for good.
(Oddly enough, important decisions? THOSE I don’t fret over. I KNOW. It makes no sense.)
Sometimes I think life would be easier if I could just hire someone to stand beside me and make decisions for me. Which restaurant for dinner? Should I buy these pants? DO I WANT BANGS?
But probably I’d need someone else to decide whom to hire.
And I don’t have time for that nonsense. I’ve got, like, a million sweet potato recipes to peruse.