I have a skewed system of favorite holidays. Thanksgiving has been my favorite for a few years, because it’s low maintenance. Oh, I cook. I cook my ass off. I cook for Johnny & I only, after some drama with his momma a few years back. In the interest of remaining Switzerland for him, I don’t visit my family, either. For the first couple of years running here, then rushing off to there definitely dampened my spirit-especially since I had two days of retail hell to look forward to immediately afterward. But now I stay in comfortable clothes, and the wine is open by eleven, music -just a little this side of loud- throughout the dining room and kitchen, and I’ve got the turkey in the oven. We may eat at two or we may eat at six. Last year, we had some friends stop in to help devour what I’d prepared and I felt like a normal adult, doing the thing. It’s the one time a year we eat at the table.  My next favorite holiday is our anniversary (I get lilies delivered to work and dinner wherever I choose). Then my birthday (again, because I don’t have to cook), then…then… St. Patrick’s Day. Not Christmas. I love Christmas, I love the meaning and I love decorating for it but I don’t love how people tend to…