All I want for Hannukahmas

With the holidays around the corner, does anyone know what they want for Hannukahmas? I'm referring to the combined holiday for those who celebrate both Hannukah and Christmas. It's extra fun for those who get to double-dip in the presents. For me it's because I, "Noelle Joy," was brought up with garland and the joy of December 25th and because I married a nice Jewish boy who remembers 8 days filled with spinning a dreidel and getting gelt.

As I carefully sift through the holiday catalogues which my poor mailman has shoved in my mailbox like a highly stacked pastrami beef on rye, I wonder what I truly want. Honestly, I have everything I need.

Of course like many women, jewelery is like a drug to me. If I found a strong enough vein, I would shoot up the baubles. Then there's handbags. I love handbags. You can lose weight, gain weight and bless those handbags, they always fit. Shoes too. Shoes are great.

Home stuff is always fun but, how much more do I need? My addiction to buying rugs and throw pillows from HomeGoods is starting to make my home look like a Moroccan Bazaar. My husband isn't amused as I feel like "Jasmine" from Aladdin on all of these rugs. As of right now, our home is walking a thin line between eclectic and clearance rack.

After a few days of stacking my Bed Bath & Beyond coupons, I finally get to the bottom of my catalogues and stumble upon, "The Holy Grail of Mail." What a perfect ending...it's The Bergdorf Goodman Holiday Book. I gasp! What recession? According to this book, all is well in the economy.

I quickly escape and fantasize. I start to dogear every other page and actually contemplate whether I like the Bottega Veneta bag or the diamond necklace for twenty grand. Decisions, decisions, who can pick with this much candy in one book? Soon I notice that I have been circling things as if I'm 7 years old and leafing through the Sear's Wish Book. We can't let there be any confusion on whether I want the fur coat or the diamonds in this picture. I must clearly circle to show my true intentions. I deliberately slow down turning the pages as I don't want to overdose on the glamour and fear the end.

I sit and ponder the thought. Is this what people do who live in those massive houses in Sands Point? Do they dog-ear the Bergdorf Goodman Holiday Book? I wish I lived there. I live in Manorhaven.  As I pointed out to my cousin from Albany, if you look at a map, it's "practically Sands Point." Right? Both villages are 20 minutes from the LIE. There's only a slight difference in our average square footage but as I pointed out to my cousin, it's minor.

So, I leaf through the book and dream that I live in a quaint Sands Point estate that looks like the one Diane Keaton has in Something's Gotta Give. It's not the biggest on the block, I don't need to be too ambitious. Just something a little beachy, has some character and a great view of the bay. My mind wanders and soon I'm imagining Hannakahmas in my beachy Sands Point house on the bay. I have a Menorah carefully placed so it doesn't look dwarfed in my slightly oversized living room. The Christmas Tree on my front lawn rivals Rockefeller Center. My dog, Barkley, has a bone the size of something out of The Flintstones, and we just look at each other and sigh. The sounds of dreidels spinning and jingle bells echo in the west wing as I adjust my new diamond necklace and clutch my new Bottega Veneta bag while I'm clad in red soled Louboutin heels. Ooh, what a sight.

With that, I quickly snap out of my Sands Point fantasy because my microwave is beeping like an air raid and Barkley is letting me know that he would like a taste. I'm defrosting chicken cutlets from Costco. Where's the glamour in defrosting chicken cutlets from Costco?

That's okay. I'm happy. As I said before, I don't honestly need anything for Hannakahmas. I've got my health and my family and all that other crap. Therefore I carefully place my beloved Bergdorf Holiday Book on a stool in the kitchen and proceed to the microwave. Not sure why I don't throw the book out. I guess once in a while it's nice to escape. You never can tell, I might change my mind and re-fold the pages.