Jingle bells, I am 12, fa la la la la, la la la Christmaspenisla!

Although we are not religious at all, and I was basically raised a heathen, I love Christmas. Love love love.

In other words, my attitude has improved significantly since I was the belligerent Mary in the preschool play.

Growing up in various countries, we had some suspect trees - one year in Dacca my mom flew home from India with two trees that we tied together to make one lopsided Christmas tree.

That was back in the days where plane rules were more relaxed and one could - and Betty regularly did - go through security with large pruning shears in one's purse.

No matter where we lived or what our tree was like, we always always always made a million kinds of cookies. Rolled sugar cookies and spritz cookies and jam sandwich cookies and bird's nests rolled in nuts and filled with jelly and fruitcake and bourbon balls and....

I had visions of recreating that but unlike Jessica and her cookiestravaganza, I lack the strength.

But!  You do what you can, right?

So Lyrae and I got all ready to make Christmas cookies and then, given my preference for waiting until the very last minute for everything, I realized I could only find a few cookie cutters, even though we have a ton of delightful old metal ones from my childhood.

My visions of Santa and reindeer and stars and the odd little Scottie dog that we always made were not to be.

But who cares, right? Christmas cookies can be anything, no?

So we found a Christmas tree and a bell. Also, a flower, a moon, and an airplane.

We made lots of each. Jordan happily helped with the sprinkles. A beautiful Christmas flower! A Christmas airplane! A Christmas bell!

Why a Christmas bell, Mama? (To go with the Christmas plane, naturally.)

The only trouble with the airplanes is that they seem to have a weak spot behind the wings.

Which, of course, makes them a little more, uh, festive?