Going Christmas Cookie Psycho

Something about pairing up with Kevin in such a serious way has made me feel kind of, well, domestic lately. There, I said it. And I’m not really the domestic type most of the time. Readers of this blog know I consider tofu pups and pretzels to be the height of haute cuisine. And my decorating ability is just now exiting the days of cinderblock-and-plywood-bookshelves. But I suppose something about getting hitched brings out the intellectually repressed, Valium-guzzling 1950s homemaker inside every woman. And I am no exception.