It starts innocently enough, bringing apple and pumpkin pie to the host's house for Thanksgiving. And then I start buying butter in bulk. I make Christmas cookies, the same ones that my mom has made my whole life, and most of them are stashed away in the freezer. They get taken out closer to Christmas unless there is some sort of a apocalypse-related cookie emergency. (I need fresh cookies right now! Oh, they have to defrost? Ok... I'll wait). After the Professor and I shacked up together he got to witness the odd cookie behavior firsthand and was wondering why they were even being frozen to begin with. My response went something like, "Cookies aren't for eating. Cookies are for saving!"
And around New Year's, when the un-eaten cookies are getting stale in the cupboard and every host, co-worker, and casual acquaintance has been given a plate of cookies, I say the same thing. "I will not make cookies next year." There's enough happening around the holidays without the self-inflicted pressure of cookie production. Plus, since these are the family recipes I usually get a batch of cookies shipped from home and they usually taste better than mine anyway.
So why do I do it? I don't think it's a true compulsion because I can certainly stop. I suppose it's part of the ritual of Christmas, my mom did it so now I do it (Nature? Nurture?). But I think there is a lot of pressure on all of us to perform and to have the "perfect Christmas." Black Friday specials kick off the shopping season so early that if it's December 10th and you don't have your shopping complete, you feel like you might as well give up. But there is lots of time, and many ways to celebrate. So this year I'm still making cookies. But next year maybe I'll just say to hell with it and give everyone on my list a fruitcake.