In my house the holiday season starts when the November cooking magazines arrive.


This year, the holiday season started Saturday.


Bon Appetite is lovely and Gourmet is even better. Every year I pick a few new recipes to go along our holiday standards and this year I think I'll have a tough time selecting and may have to go for an all new menu. Of course, I wouldn't dream of altering my cookie repertiore - there will be gingerbread stars, shortbread, thumprints and chocolate crinkles. But first, the arrival of the magazines means I can begin to wrap the presents I've been buying and making since June and stashing in my linen closet.


The first holiday on the roster is, of course, Halloween. Long time readers may remember this time last year I was feverishly trying to finish the Boy Wonder's race car driver costume. This year he's wearing a store bought astronaut outfit, a birthday present from his grandparents. I was given a dalmation costume for the Little Diva, but it is way too big so she will celebrate the season in a pumpkin-festooned turtleneck with matching sweater. The Boy Wonder has already decided that next year he wants to be a pirate, giving me plenty of notice to stock up on sale-priced pattern and material. Very considerate, that.


Thanksgiving will be interesting. My in-laws have asked to come down for a few days. Fine with us, we haven't seen them for a while. The thing is, we have some news that we're not sure how they'll take. (And no, we're not telling you yet, so you'll just have to be patient.) We're figuring we'll get great happiness - if, in fact, they actually understand the entire situation and all its ramifications - in which case it will be all my husband's doing, or we'll get great sorrow, in which case it's all my fault. Either way it's going to be an interesting visit.


No matter what happens, the food on Thanksgiving night will be secondary. My in-laws approach food and celebrations differently than I, a situation which has caused more than its share of hurt and misunderstandings in the past. Now that we know and have accepted that our differences are not personal our shared holidays are much more comfortable. I no longer try and make meals specifically to please them and so no longer become upset that they don't notice the effort. And for their part, they don't feel that I am putting on airs when I put the food in bowls rather than place the pots on the table or buy butter instead of margarine in the decorative plastic bowl. With these truths accepted, we all get along much better.


And, appropriately so, our holidays are much more festive and full of shared joy. As well they should be, don't you think?