I am constantly amazed by the winter holiday season. It can be a tacky, gluttonous fiasco. It can also be an exquisite and joyous affair. The two dichotomies are rich with imagery: icy tinsel, glittering snow, mounds of sugar-laden sweets. It can also conjure memories of an alcoholic uncle, a racist grandmother, a vicious family dog. There is warmth, fires and woolen mittens. A child surrounded by a sea of torn wrapping paper and plastic toys. Exhausted by weeks of built-up anticipation and expectation, quickly replaced with a feeling of want, and ultimately, disappointment. The turkey takes five hours to cook and fifteen minutes to consume. I am fascinated with this roller coaster of emotion, and appalled by some of the ludicrous and tacky decorations designed to represent it. It is a strange and fascinating time.