I’m a sucker for the holidays. Most of the year, I’ve got my nose to the proverbial grindstone, but the holidays bring out the kick-up-your-heels side of me.

I mean, really, from a female perspective, what’s not to love?

You get to dress up. You get to show a little skin. You get to wear ridiculous shoes and put sparkly stuff all over your neck and ears and legs and lips. You get to try on eighteen outfits and then go back to the very first one.

You get to go out. Work? Schmerk! I’ll gladly quit work at 4 pm to get ready for an 8 pm rendezvous (yes, of course, it takes that long – there’s the 30 minute bath, the blow-out, the make-up, the pedicure, the perfume spritzing, the aforementioned outfit changes). Four hours, and I’ll still be late.

Mistletoe. Yes, it may just be a vodka-rocked wet one smacked across your cheek by a guy you can’t stand, but at least you can say you got kissed in 2008!

Martinis. Oh, and wine, Amaretto, Sambuca, Champagne, Goldschlager. You name, I’ll drink it — in the spirit of the season — even if I have to blow my entire holiday budget on cab fare.

Invitations. Totally uncool, I know, but I’m like a kid in a candy store when it comes to holiday get-togethers, and they all get entered on my wall calendar.

As days and nights pass in a lack-of-sleep blur, the December squares become riddled with scribblings and doodles splashed across the days in markers of all colors – then come the cross-outs and arrows, exclamation points, emphatic underlining, dramatic, red hearts drawn around certain, apparently memorable, evenings. By New Year’s Eve – if I’m lucky – my December calendar is filled with enough drama and color to give Jackson Pollock collectors something to think about.

Romance. The holiday season isn’t just about party-going, though. Since I’m single, it would be disingenuous to deny that it isn’t also a little bit about romance.

One of the most romantic things to do in December is go to Selby Lights in Bloom. Take someone you’re trying to enchant – whether it’s your child, your spouse, your best friend, or that potential love-of-your-life. If he or she can’t be successfully wooed in that fairy tale of light, that magical meandering of sparkling trees and plants and dragonflies, they’re simply not woo-able.

Hope. Yes, the holiday haze can be superficial, but for five weeks, I get a kick out of seeing people I haven’t seen in months, talking nonsense and indulging those faux-French air kisses. I like listening to schmaltzy Christmas tunes. I like seeing things all sparkly and happy even if I know it’s just for show.

I like suspending my usual cynicism. I like feeling goodwill. I like going to a lot of trouble to look a little good. I like walking across the threshold of someone’s home. I like believing that love is in the air.

So I’m a sucker for the holidays. So sue me ….

In case you haven’t you heard – it’s a wonderful life!