Yesterday morning, driving in the midst of an drenching rainstorm, I heard “Christmas Rapping” by the Waitresses on the radio, and with that, my holidays had officially begun. (For more than 20 years, I mark the start of the season by the first appearance of that irresistible piece of pop perfection. In 2008, I never heard it at all, which speaks volumes. This year, nice and early.) By nightfall, the Rockerfellers had fired up their tree, and the Briarcliff dreidel was spotlit. At the library, I saw that Esquire‘s 2010 elf was the very pretty Erika Christensen. Game on!
