Column: Give me just a few more days in Fantasyland

We've come to that time of year that is my personal favorite. After leaving the screams and howls of Halloween behind but before making the Thanksgiving commitment of baking the dressing outside of the turkey or stuffed inside, we can kick back, put up our feet and catch some reruns of "Dancing with the Stars."Hahaha - just kidding about the reruns. That's because there are, seriously, gazillions of first-run episodes left of this season's reality show featuring "Stars" you haven't heard of in approximately 50 years. But I digress.

The reason I love this time of year is because it allows me to shine. At least inside my own head. Christmas preparation is in its infancy, and the freight train of holiday derailment hasn't yet entered my consciousness. Because as surely as I know my own name, I know that THIS VERY YEAR my holiday celebration will be perfect. That's right, Martha Stewart, eat your heart out.

First I will grab up and pore over the obligatory holiday magazines, all promising that this very issue guarantees "Your Best Holiday Season Ever" and "Christmas in Connecticut is OK but Wait 'til the Folks Back Home Take a Gander at your Goose."

But I won't stop there. I'll make gingerbread likenesses of the White House; whip up a fabulously towering croque-en-bouche for open house on Christmas Eve; perhaps I will even order snow-making equipment to sprinkle the outside of our home with flurries of frozen flakes, ensuring a perfect White Christmas. ANYTHING is possible.

It is only mid-November and right now I can go shopping and park in the same zip code as the mall. This is vital because next month parking becomes life threatening. One year was so hazardous that if they suspected you were going to beat them out of a parking place, drivers employed the use of harpoons. I know because it happened to me. That's right; I was harpooned. Or possibly I drove my vehicle too near a bicycle rack thoughtlessly placed there by people who should be designing parking lots in Siberia.

If you're lucky enough to find a parking space in December, wannabe Christmas shoppers stalk you as you exit the store, their large SUVs nipping your heels. But I have a fail-proof payback to those rude drivers. Carrying my mountain of shopping bags, I purposely walk right past my car. Don't be fooled, people; I will carry 50 pounds of bags for miles. I don't care if those bags weigh me down to the point of needing reconstructive surgery. If I don't like the attitude of the driver following me, I might just walk all the way home.

Another great thing about this time of year is that you know you'll find the perfect gift for everyone on your list because you have scads of time to shop selectively. You'll leisurely wrap your offerings in beautiful paper while featuring perfectly folded corners on every box. And you'll tie your gifts in the most fetching manner with yards of lovely ribbon artfully draped around each one.Of course reality hits Christmas Eve when you realize every gift you purchased is so bulky that wrapping it requires assistance from the tent and awning people. I mean, let's see YOU wrap a large tricycle. And speaking of tricycles ...

This year I found a pink tricycle. Not just any pink tricycle, mind you. The ad says this tricycle will make my little princess feel like royalty and is a "true classic!" Designed after a 1930s model trike, the "Sky Princess Tricycle in Pink" is the ultimate in style replete with handlebar tassels and fenders - that's right: fenders - on all three wheels.

Now the Martha in me thinks this is the perfect Christmas gift for Granddaughter #1, Gracie Elizabeth. I can visualize her now, hair flying in the wind as she pedals down the sidewalk on her adjustable coil spring seat, her functional headlight dazzling in the gathering twilight. The smooth ride from the solid rubber tires and sealed ball bearings will make her feel like a princess for sure. Not to mention the long-lasting lead-free powder coat paint that will bring out the apple pink of her cheeks. The Sky Princess Tricycle will look stunning beneath the Christmas tree!

And OK, her mother thinks the tricycle is atrocious. Plus Gracie is only 2; her feet wouldn't reach the pedals. And unless it comes standard with a detailing person, a few mornings of lawn sprinklers drowning the "long-lasting lead-free powder coat paint" with gallons of hard water, that trike will be thrashed before you can say "Holy-cow-what-was-I-thinking-this-thing-cost-more-than-my-first car!!!"

So yeah, no. I'll dream on. Today I'll believe that this Christmas will be a wondrous marvel of miracles and joy. Seriously. Denial is a beautiful thing.