Well, here we go marching into the holiday season again and you know what the first sign is? Catalogues. Many, many catalogues and all of them wanting you to buy, buy, buy.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love catalogues. When I get a new Lands’ End or L.L. Bean, I’m all over it. Or if I get one from Collections or Favorites or Figi’s, I’ll probably be ordering, but some of the catalogues offer me impossible things they think of as treasures.

A few weeks ago, I got a catalogue offering me beautiful and comfortable lingerie. I opened it in great anticipation only to find garments with compartments that helped if you were incontinent, and socks to stimulate your circulation, and even undershirts with built-in back support. True, you could get them in a variety of colors — pink, white, and even beige — and although I had no doubt they were comfortable, beautiful they were not.

Another interesting catalogue I received showed candies in different shapes for the upcoming festivities. You could get chocolate turkeys; when you bite off the neck, a stream of caramel oozes out. And you could get marshmallow pumpkins (if they get too hard, there are directions for “reviving the softness”). But I think my favorite on these pages were the licorice black cats, complete with Red Hots for eyes, and whiskers of “eatable threads.” Mmm. Love those eatable threads.

I said before I love catalogues and they do have their important uses. Where else could you go to buy that necessary “pile of dog poop” to surprise your friends with, or that “fake wig and beard” so you could go to the party incognito, or the whoopie cushion with which to entertain your relatives? Or — drum roll here — where would you go to purchase candles shaped like a latte that smells like peppermint or mocha or gingerbread? Important stuff for holiday celebrating.

I think my favorite pages of these for-sale articles are the ones that advertise shoes. I have often thought my ideal job would be to work in a shoe store and instead of being paid I would have to take my salary home in the form of merchandise.

I already have a closet full of shoes and since they don’t seem to wear out I have some that are more than 30 years old and still in good repair (and, I’m happy to say, are coming back into style.)

I have a pair of black satin 5-inch high heels with copper and black sequins on the pointy toes that I will probably never wear again (for fear of falling off), but I can’t just throw them away or even give them to anyone, can I? I also have some pool shoes made of wood that I have to keep (for some reason.) These are also 5-inch heels, sling back, hob nails holding a piece of leather across the toes. Yes, these treasures are in a box and yes I can find them, but I can’t help wanting to see all the latest offerings.

After writing this, I realize that I really do love catalogues for more than one reason. Of course, there is the obvious one, but these holiday decorated slick pages also take me back to happy holiday times when I was young. Although I remember them as hectic, they were wonderful.

So I guess catalogues do serve more than one purpose besides their entertaining aspect — by offering gift suggestions and nostalgic memories. And as Martha says, ‘That’s a good thing.”

— Contact Donna Lee Anderson at welltoldtales@aol.com.