A few highlights

Per my usual, I can't create a narrative out of my blurry memories of Christmas. You gets the bullets, you takes your shot.

1. Went to 21 for the first time. Loved it. I'd like to live on Dover sole and profiteroles for the rest of my life, but then I couldn't fit in my fabulous little black dress. (God love Loehmann's.) We went on "caroling night," so it was a toss up between cramming sole down my gullet and belting out "hark the herald angels sing." Tough one.

2. Saw Julianne Moore get seriously out-acted by Bill Nighy in The Vertical Hour. Great play; made me think about my life as an academic and as a dater-of-unfortunate-men. Bill Nighy made me want to hang out with him. From what I hear from Page Six, Lauren Bacall has the same idea. That's fabulous. (Note to self--be Lauren Bacall when you're 70.)

3. Got a chance to see my hyper-talented cousin. We're both easily distracted blondes who talk too fast, so people think we're sisters. But she's a trained opera singer who married a super-hot carpenter who now designs mansions for the rich and famous and I'm simply a devastatingly witty professor who's thinking about stealing her husband. Yeah, we're related.

4. Had Christmas Eve Dinner with the neighbors. These folks have 30 people over, serve them incredible cuban food and buckets of terrific wine, and then force them to sing carols a capella. You'd think that in a room of 30 people someone could carry a tune. Not a one. Complete debacle. I've never wanted to burst my own ear drums before. Luckily I was wearing a strapless, leaf green cocktail dress, so I looked too good to care. (Thanks again, Loehmann's.)

5. Christmas morning with the grownups is the way to go. Since the youngest cousin in the house is now in his late 20s, we only staggered in to the tree at 10 am. That's a civilized holiday. The cousins with kids were up at 6. We laughed at them and sipped coffee and swore that we were remaining childless.

6. Christmas dinner with the WASPs. We usually have a buffer person or two to keep the family in line. Not so this year. A heartfelt argument for saying "Merry Christmas" rather than "happy holidays" unleashed a 30 minute conversation about the "number of jews in New York" that has never been equaled. I spent the time pushing a fork into my thigh (which was swathed in a lovely red wrap dress--La Loehmann strikes again) and wondering whether I should butt in with "Jesus was a Jew!" or something even more inflammatory like "and what about the GAYS?" just to see where they'd take it. These are good people. Just out of touch with the world outside their handbook. Number of times "the silent majority" was mentioned: 15.

7. Christmas Night was spent recovering with Scottie B. in Manhattan with all the gay jews we could find. We ended up at the Duplex eating pie, drinking Stoli and tonics, and singing show tunes. A drunk german couple fell on me while they were trying to dance to "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree."

8. Boxer Day was excellent, too--went and saw The Good Shepherd (which I thought was riveting!), played with the grandkids, and ate dinner with the non-relatives. Excellent champagne, yummy turkey, and astonishing butterscotch cake that almost killed one of our guests. Hypoglycemia (or is it hyper?) is no joke, people. Realizing that none of us were in any shape to get him to a hospital resulted in heartfelt prayers to whatever saint handles large men with racing pulses. He's fine.

9. The next day was spent shopping and eating and drinking with pals. When I got to the airport, someone was paging "Sans Joy," which absolutely made my evening. This was both because no one knew what I was laughing about, and also what a queen geek I was for thinking of the Faerie Queene at LaGuardia.

10. Now I have a cold. I blame the airlines. But it was a whirl of New York magic. There is no better place in the world for Christmas. Trust me; I've looked.