And so this is Christmas. For me, getting into the Christmas spirit means (as cliche as it seems) drinking peppermint hot chocolate, going to see the tree in the city, Bergdorf window displays, John Lennon’s happy Christmas (war is over) and Bing Crosby on the record player. It means lighting up red cedar incense to make my fireplace-less home smell like the woods. It means chopping up pine tree branches and tossing them in mason jars around the house. It means reciting every line to Christmas Vacation and Home Alone. It means getting bombarded with cinnamony smelling pine cones. It means wearing leggings until January because of brunch items that consist of apple cornbread waffles. Christina and I took a day trip to the new Terrain in Westport, CT for some holiday cheer and shopping. And well, chicken and waffles. Just saying.