That's right, the very merriest Christmas to you and yours from the
denizens of Chaos Manor South, Uncle Rod, Miss Dorothy, and Miss Beth
(home for the holidays from Yankeeland).
Unfortunately it's a rainy Christmas Eve way down here in the heart of
the Great Possum Swamp, so our yearly ritual of sippin' eggnog
fortified with you-know-what while viewing that greatest of all
ornaments, M42, is likely to be stymied. I 'spect we'll just adjourn to
the corner Mexican restaurant shortly for many margaritas, that being
Weather be damned, it will be a wonderful Christmas for us and I hope
for all y'all too.
I also hope the new year brings, above all, an opportunity for me to
spend more non-virtual time with all of y'all. And let me express my
thanks to so many of you who have been so nice to me as I've journeyed
to your star parties across the good, old USA. You made this broken
down old hillbilly feel right at home from Pennsylvania on the Atlantic
to Washington on the Pacific!
What do _I_ want for Christmas? Not much. I've pretty much got it all.
I'm very lucky to be living my dream, spending much of my time talking
about, writing about, and playing about with SCTs and all that
wonderful other astro-gear we love so much, all in the company of the
wonderful Miss Dorothy. But it's not and never has been just about the
gee-gaws and goodies. The most marvelous part of this game for me (and
I hope for you too) is still the wondering at and the sharing of the
reason for all of it: that wondrous night sky. No, what could I
possibly ask for that I don't have? The main thing I have being the
friendship of you, my wonderful brother and sister amateurs.
Well, enough of the sentimental mush, bubbas and bubbettes. If you'll
excuse me, looking out the window, there's a possum waiting for his
Christmas Eve dinner out on the deck (no, I'm not kiddin'). To bed with
you, and let dreams of Celestrons (and Meades) dance in your heads!