ginger and peppermint in my nostrils.

It a merry time of year. My neighbors have their trees and homes lit up. As of yesterday, it's officially cold, wintry weather. I actually drove over a patch of ice on my way to get coffee this morning. AND, the scent of ginger has begun to fill the air, as people scramble over one another on the candy isle in search of the perfect decorations for their made-from-scratch gingerbread houses!

Not.

I was just scrambling over myself on the candy isle, and it was my apartment (that's close in size to a gingerbread house), not the world's air, that smelled of ginger baking. Each time I sit down to complete the delightful task, I go back about a little scant of twenty years to elementary school, and the feeling I had when we stopped learning stuff and started craft time. I wasn't getting high on the glue, like my classmates. I was getting high on the experience. And the past few days, I have been getting high on peppermint lane.

Some of you may not have read my blog last year, so I will repost a picture of last year's gingerbread house creation, that took place in the kitchen and dining room of my dear friend Chris. This is a messy process, even when "I clean as I go", like my mom tells me. I was without a kitchen, so she let me make a mess of hers for a few days...that's her butt to the left of the gingerbread house beginnings.

I decided to veer away from multi-colored madness for this years creation, and instead go for a classy red and white theme like the candy-canes of my childhood. I made "the cottage on the corner of peppermint lane" for my grandmother. She is a professional volunteer, and one of her causes is the Domestic Abuse Shelter in Claremore. They have something called a "Festival of Trees" every year, and various people decorate and donate gingerbread houses, which are placed staggeringly atop a white table cloth, on display. Various other people walk around this festival thing, and bid on the confectionary creations.