For as long as I can remember, I have had a love/hate relationship with the holiday season.
Throughout my childhood, I sat in front of the tv, glued to "The Little Drummer Boy," The King Family and Bing Crosby Christmas specials, even the Norelco commercial and the precursor to the virtual fireplace on WPIX-TV, carols playing in the background.
Growing up Jewish, we had no tree laden with ornaments. Christmas Eve was my parents' anniversary, often spent in New York City, sharing chestnuts, the windows at Saks, and the tree at Rockefeller Center.
I have always been the proud owner of a romantic imagination, fueled by cheesy Christmas movies usually featuring a couple falling in love amidst the holiday lights in the Big Apple for feature films, some charming hometown for tv movies.
The downside to a writer's imagination is the unfulfilled expectation of the mistletoe which can send one under the covers, self-soothing with candy canes and the Hallmark Channel.
And we haven't even gotten to New Year's Eve!
We need the power of the TiVo, enough strong will to power through the mall jewelry store commercials where a mildly surprised girlfriend accepts a heart shaped pendant from her loving boyfriend in front of an adoring younger sister or cousin.
This year, I am going to step away from the candy canes and the cheesy holiday commercials.
(Deep inside, I may still harbor a teeny bit of hope for magic and mistletoe...and a kiss when the ball drops..)
There's always next year...
The Stiletto Clad Divorcee