The Hoppy Mailman

Movie

   It was Tuesday, and the post office decided that they would make us all happy by showing us a movie that wished us a Happy Valentine's Day. It even featured an American Idol contestant who happens to be a rural letter carrier from Fort Myers, Florida. For 16 minutes we were all mesmerized by this epic feature that ended with her singing a song to her fellow carriers. This was shown during a week where 2 to 4 carriers a day are being mandated to work their days off. General consensus was that they could have used the money from making that horrid movie and hired another carrier for our office. Now THAT would have made us happy. I guess their heart was in the right place, but no brains.

   With that said, I am a lucky man. I've heard cowboys say that you've had a great life if you've been fortunate to have a good horse, a good dog, and a good woman. Now I don't like horses and with my occupation, a good dog is an oxymoron. My good woman makes up for those two and then some. She is my bride. I prefer to say that as opposed to my wife. It just sounds less possessive and more heartfelt to me. She is the most loving person that I know and it's an astonishing feeling being married to her. I love you Patty, you are my valentine for life. 

   I decided to stop drinking with creeps. I decided to drink only with friends. I've lost 30 pounds.   -   Ernest Hemingway

Sondy

   I have discovered that writing a blog is a little like being a DJ at Sondrestrom Air Base, Greenland. You don't have a lot of listeners, but it sure is fun.

   Working for AFRTS (American Forces Radio & Television Service) Greenland, I had the pleasure of spinning records from March 1976-77. Just like the movie tittle, in many ways it was "My Favorite Year". Who wouldn't want to be a DJ? I guess you could say that being in Greenland would be a little bit of a downer, but looking back at it, that only added to the charm. Heck I was only 23, I didn't know any better. It was a small base with less than 100 U.S. service personal stationed there, but there were quite a few Danes who worked at the base and the SAS airport. The runway, which separated the two, was used jointly by SAS airlines and the military. Sondy Air Base is gone now, decommissioned in 1992, and they have changed the name to Kangerlussuaq. Located just above the Arctic Circle at the end of a fjord on the west coast, it went by the nickname, "The Miami of the North". I just got on a website which had the current temperature at 4F. Trust me, it doesn't get that cold in Miami.

    What you see, is what you get. I found this recent picture of Sondy during a web search. I doesn't appear a whole lot has changed. Base to the right, airport on the left. The barracks where we lived are on the far right were the fjord winds through. To get to the radio station, you had to cross over the fjord and follow the road along the ridge to the top of the hill. We were nestled right along side Lake Ferguson. I have a lot of fond memories of stepping outside the station to witness the aurora borealis in all it's splendor. No words can fully describe the phenomenal brilliance of these free multi-colored light shows. It was awesome!

   I also had the great fortune of meeting Rick Shaw at Sondy. We still remain friends to this day. We worked the graveyard shift from midnight till 6 and loved it. Our live show was from 2-4 and we played just about anything we wanted to. The only other people who were awake were the crew in the control tower, the cops, and the folks along the DEW (Distant Early Warning) sites. Small audience. We also enjoyed doing production work like promos and PSA's (Public Service Announcements). We called ourselves R & R productions and we were good. My goodness did we have fun. Rick and I were honorably discharged from the Air Force around the same time in 1977. We hooked up soon after that, toured the States for a few weeks, and finished our trip in Denver, Colorado where we both still reside. The last I heard, Rick was working for Fox News in the New Orleans area. Thanks for turning me on to Rock n' Roll brother.

   Another person that I have stayed in touch with is Virginia Priybla, my CO (Commanding Officer). An officer yes, commanding no. She was a Lieutenant back then, on her first overseas assignment. Having recently retired as a Lt. Colonel, she and her husband Mike, also a retired Lt. Colonel, have settled down in the "greener" pastures of Hawaii. I've never had a better boss, what a terrific person. Thanks for getting Rick and me into the Officer's Club.

   We had plenty of things to do. There was a movie theater, a four lane bowling alley, the library, BX (Base Exchange), and the NCO Club. Ah yes, the Caribou Club where many an Elephant beer was tossed down in celebration. We would celebrate foxes, breathing, Tuesdays, sunrise, no sunrise, 10:23 pm., it really didn't matter, any excuse to have another round. It was THE place in town and even the officer's wanted to come on over. You had to have a little anti-freeze in you before you ventured outside in the cold. Every once in a while, they would have a band there on a USO tour. Something tells me that the band would fire their manager after the gig, but we enjoyed it. As the song goes, a whole lotta things I ain't never done, I ain't never had too much fun.

    I could go on and on here about this and that, but I won't bore you. It was just a special year that I will never forget. Putting Echoes by Pink Floyd on the turntable, knowing that I had 23:31 minutes to witness the northern lights before I had to go back inside. Shooting foxes with the MP's by the base dump at 2 in the morning. Some were rabid, so it needed to be done. Meeting Bridgette Bardot when the aircraft she was on came in to refuel. Firing up the TV transmitter at 4:30 in the morning for a private showing of "Fractured Flickers" with Hans Conried. Looking out for the dreaded "snow snakes" that would usually get you just after you left the NCO Club. Listening to the crunching noise your footsteps made as you walked about the snow covered surroundings in sub zero temperatures. Going past tit mountain as you made the long 5 mile journey out to the port. That's not natural. The biggest damn mosquito's that I have ever seen and being able to hear them buzzing from 15 feet away. Not knowing if it was 2 in the morning or evening. No sun. Witnessing the tireless dedication and hard work of all the people who labored together after a C-141 crash landed, killing 23 of the 27 people aboard. The tragic and sudden loss of a friend and fellow serviceman who drowned in the fjord. Good times, bad times, it all made for a very intriguing year. I left there older, wiser, and in many respects, it was my favorite year.

   I drink when I have occasion, and sometimes when I have no occasion.   Miguel De Cervantes   -   Spanish writer

   

    

   

23

   It has now been three weeks since I've been on my new route and so far, so good.

   People want to know why I would change routes when I had been on my old one for such a long time. There are a lot of factors that are considered when a letter carrier decides to bid on a new route. How much walking is involved? Does it have apartments on it? Are there bad dogs out there? How many deliveries are there? Essentially the perfect route, for me anyway, would be a mounted route with rural mailboxes that has no walking or satchel involved, and would be 8 hours in length. Fat chance for the 8 hour part. Out of our office we have 4 fully mounted routes in the exclusive Cherry Hills district, but they get so much mail that they rarely, if ever, have an 8 hour day, unless they get assistance. Nice gratuities at Christmas time, but they really work for it. Some carriers prefer a business route. More mail involved, but you're not carrying any of it on your shoulders. Other carriers, and I am not one of them, like routes with apartments on them. You don't have any walking and that's a good thing, but keeping track of all the people that move in and out can make your head spin. That and trying to jam all that junk mail into a tiny hole that already has mail left in it from the last four days is just more than I want to deal with. With that in mind, my new route is a little of all three.

   Route 23 is mainly a business route with a little mounted delivery and 4 apartments. It's broken down as potentially having 144 business deliveries, 87 mounted stops, and 36 apartment deliveries for a total of 267 delivery points. That's around 100 less stops than my other route had. Keep in mind that some places are vacant. The best thing about it is that I don't carry any mail on my shoulders. No more satchel. No more navigating through snow covered lawns with buried land mines ie: garden tools, water hoses, rakes, toys, and dog shit. I enjoy the businesses. You get to interact with your customers, which for the most part is good. Another good thing about a business route is that because of the large volume of mail they get, the slots on your case are bigger to accommodate it all and that makes it easier to case it. After that I have residential deliveries which all have rural mailboxes. It's nice and cozy in the winter time, but in the summer it can be a little warm, or should I say darn right hot. I should explain that this is not a high rent district that I'm delivering to here. Blue collar, low income would better explain it. It's a mainly Latino population and the homes are older and fairly small by today's standard. The last 20 minutes of my day are spent delivering to the 4 apartments. I must admit that this is not a whole lot of fun. I don't know what they charge for rent, but whatever it is, it's too much. Two of them have 6 rooms and the other 2 have 12 apiece. Some of the apartments have 4-6 different names living there, plus people have a tendency to move on a moments notice without anyone knowing. I was delivering mail one day when a police officer happened to walk by. I sarcastically mentioned something to him about this being a fun place to visit and he looked at me and asked if I carried a firearm. He said, "I wouldn't come here without one". Very reassuring. I did not take any pictures of these structures.

   The hardest thing about a new route is trying to figure out where everything is on your case. After years of seeing the street names Inca, Huron, Kalamath, Jason, Lipan, Mariposa, and Windemere, suddenly I'm dealing with Zuni, Cornell, Bates, Umatilla, Wyndot, Shoshone, and Tejon. When I explain it to people, I tell them it's a little like getting married and having to instantaneously memorize 267 names, plus all of their relatives and know where they live. That first week was a real struggle, but it gets easier with time as you start to match names with numbers. It does tend to keep the mind sharp.

   So except for the very end, I'm likin' it. For the first time in 21 years I have a route that actually IS 8 hours long. That is a rarity. I do miss all of my friends from route 13, especially Bruce, but 23 is better on the body and with only 46 months to go before retirement, that's pretty important to me. Hell yes I'm counting. It also comes with some killer views. This picture sucks, but what I'm looking at is Pike's Peak located about 70 miles south of Denver near Colorado Springs. I love being outside. Whether it's 110F or -10F, outside is where it's at. I would not mind finishing my career on this route.

   "You don't like jail?"  They got the wrong kind of bars in there.   Charles Bukowski  - American writer             

Lazy

   Okay, it's your last day of vacation and what do you want to do? Anything you want, right? For us that meant not a darn thing, and that's pretty much what we did.

   For a solid week we had been looking at the pool, but had yet to set foot in it. We ended up spending the better part of the day just hanging around down there and enjoying the surroundings. All of the shrubs and trees are so neatly trimmed, it's very attractive. These pictures were all taken around the pool area at the condos we stayed at. They have one gentleman that takes care of all the common grounds and he does an extraordinary job. You can tell that he takes a lot of pride in his work. Each one of us finally jumped into the cement pond for a quick splash, admired the scenery and managed to play a couple of hands of hearts before we left the serenity of poolside for our condo. We were all enchanted by the hummingbirds as they flit from blossom to blossom in search of that sweet nectar. It was very relaxing and just what the doctor ordered. Later that afternoon it was time to return the rental car and then that night we dinned on red snapper cooked over, what else, mesquite. How many different ways can you say it doesn't get any better than this?

    Our flight did not depart until 2 in the afternoon on Tuesday, so we had some time to get our stuff together and say goodbye to a fabulous vacation. We took a three block hike south from our condo to the beach and said a proper farewell. We will miss it all. The ocean, the shopping, the weather, the beer, but most of all, the people. In my three visits to this region, I have yet to come upon a native that was rude or abusive to me in any sort of manner. Tourists yes, but not the Mexicans. I've mentioned before about how well kept our condo tract was. Well it does not stop there as they also do a great job of cleaning all the main streets in and around town. Even the median strips are devoid of refuse. It all made for a lovely stroll.

   It has been an awesome nine days, and it was enhanced greatly by the companionship of our two best friends. I'm at a loss of words for these people. I feel extremely blessed to have found a soul mate for life in Patty, she means the world to me. To have the good fortune to find two genuine comrades to supplement us, now that's remarkable. We love them dearly and this excursion would not have nearly been as much fun without them. To Bruce and Jeanie Testerman we say thank you, and we love you with all of our hearts. You guys are the greatest.

  Hasta luego, I'll see you later.

   

Change

   They say the only thing that's constant is change. I've got no problem with change as long as it's for the better. Taking the red line out of hockey is good change. Celebrating a tackle in football with a dance after a 3 yard gain is bad change. I have not agreed with all the changes in the post office, but getting a route where you don't have to carry mail on your shoulders is a good thing.

   After spending the better part of 20 years in the same neighborhood, I have changed routes. I had the opportunity to bid on a route that needs no satchel and I jumped on it. No more trudging through the snow and hauling mail on my shoulders. My neck is very happy about this. I will miss all the friends I made on my old route, but it was time for a change.

   It will take awhile to learn all the new names and addresses, but once that is done, this route should be a good one. It is mainly a business route with a little residential at the end and it has 100 less stops on it than my previous one. The homes all have rural box delivery so most of my time is spent inside the truck. I'm looking at this route as one I can retire on. Saturday was my first day and what a bear of a day it was. Like I said before, it's going to take some time before I become efficient. Wish me luck. 

  A mind the caliber of mine cannot derive its nutriment from cows.   -      George Bernard Shaw

Salud!

   The only thing on our agenda for this beautiful Sunday was a trip to Juan and Clara's for another feast. Be still my beating heart.

   We enjoy these two people so much and for whatever reason, they seem to enjoy us. They live on top of a hill in the "suburbs" just east of San Jose. To get there, you must cross the freshwater Rio San Jose that runs into the Estero San Jose and eventually the Pacific Ocean. The river is usually nothing more than a babbling brook and is easy to cross, except when a tropical storm called chubascos hit. Juan was telling us about one year when he got stuck in town for three days before he could pass across the arroyo to get back home. They enjoy the country setting and with a view like this from their house, who can blame them. You are looking south, along the riverbed to the Pacific Ocean, with San Jose on the right. A bueno vista indeed.

   But as beautiful as the views are, we were there primarily for the food. Clara never disappoints us with her culinary expertise. Today it was pork that she had stuffed full of a variety of goodies. I wish I could be more specific, but beyond spinach, almonds and raisins, I'm not sure what else was embedded inside that pig. I just know that after it came out of their smoker, it tasted fantastic. Before our meal, we sat outside, drank beer, and exchanged stories. The smell of mesquite wafting about helped to peak our appetites. Clara speaks very little English, and we very little Spanish, but we all seem to communicate remarkably well. If we got stuck in conversation, we would just raise our glasses and say, "Salud!" (cheers). That would always make us chuckle with enjoyment.

   We were joined for dinner by two other friends of theirs, Mike and Connie, an American couple who live in the area. Mike is an architect who helped design their house and Connie stays busy caring for all types of birds. We all proceeded to tear into that hog. My goodness what a delight. We truly feel it's an honor to be invited to their house for such a feast. Mi casa es su casa (my house is your house) is not just an expression with them, they live it. What a privilege it is to be a part of.

   That night we slapped the red snapper on the grill. We are definitely eating well on this trip. One day left and we can't believe how fast the time has gone by. Salud!

   

   

Festival

   It's a beautiful Saturday morning and we don't have a thing planned. Damn, we're good. First we'll eat, then we'll plan. It's easier to think on a full stomach.

   While perusing through the Baja's only English speaking newspaper, the Gringo Gazette (link on left to gringogazette.com), I came across an activity I thought we might all enjoy later that evening. Bruce then mentioned that we hadn't been to our favorite restaurant yet. Suddenly, the ladies proclaimed they had more shopping to do. I told you eating helped. It sounds like a day, in sunny San Jose.

   The women did their thing and the men just sort of followed. They'd spend 15 minutes in a store, come out with nothing, and say how cute everything was. I just don't get it, which is fine, just as long as they're happy. Now don't get me wrong, the men were shopping too, but we had a set objective. We'd walk in, and if we didn't see what we wanted, we'd walk out. For us the search was for Los Cabos beer mugs that would hold a pint. We were not having any luck. Patty and Jeanie on the other hand, were in 7th heaven. We covered a lot of real estate before we decided it was time for chips and salsa. The Restaurant Bar Jazmin was recommended by one of the local shop owners, so that's were we ended up. Notice all the paper decorations hanging from the ceiling. Very attractive, plus the beer was cold and the salsa not too hot.

   Time to move on and we continued to wander about town. This is a view down Calle Zaragoza towards the center of town. It is a one-way street, so I could observe who was going to run me over. Seeing all these streamers hanging above the road, I quickly realized that this all must be a part of the activity that I read about in the paper. The Jazmin was not the only place decked out, they all were. It looked and felt wonderfully festive.

  Now this is the one place that I like to shop at, the fire department. The bomberos are an all volunteer fire and rescue operation. There are no city financed firemen, it's all strictly volunteer. Without them, forget it. They sell t-shirts for $15 and all the money goes to help them save lives. I get a nice shirt and my dollars go to a superlative cause. I think it's the best deal in town. If you right click on the picture and open link in new window, you might be able to see the t-shirt hanging next to the placard by the front door.

   Since we've been here, we have yet to go out for dinner, except when we stayed in La Paz. That will change tonight. The Hangman is an enchanting establishment that we found by chance last year. If you're looking for lavish elegance, this ain't the joint. For starters, one bathroom. No roof, just trees and some canvas over the stoves. There's tons of old stuff all over, cluttering up the tightly packed dinning area. Irons, mailboxes, license plates, Halloween masks, shotguns, wash boards, bird houses, clocks, typewriters, you name it, it's there. It's like a garage sale you'd see in some small country town. Then to set it all off, it's decadently lite up with a assorted variety of Christmas lights. All this plus a bald, elderly gentleman, who serenades you with old show tunes that he plays on his mini-Moog synthesizer. Now that's entertainment. But it does have one major flaw, no alcohol. No problema. You bring your own cooler. For the ladies it was margaritas, while the men quaffed a couple of Noche Buenas. This beer is only sold in December and it's translation is Christmas Eve, beautiful night. It has a reddish, copper color with an alcohol content of 6.5% APV. Nicely hopped, it's a rich, smooth tasting beer that we felt fortunate to consume as we just happened to be there at the right time of year. Ordering your meal is simple. You pick your meat, choose corn or flour tortillas, and all the sauces are on the table awaiting your taco. Ricardo, our server, introduced our salsas as, "Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, and you try, you cry". We did not try. Bruce had his tongue tacos, while the rest of us were more conservative with our selections, going with chicken and pork. This joint is awesome. The best tacos I've ever had and cheap! We will return.

   Now it was time to check out the activity. That night at the Plaza Mijares in San Jose, the 2nd annual Festival of Rhythms, Colors and Flavors of Los Cabos was taking place. A stage was set up on the plaza with an elaborate sound system and seating in the front. We got there in time to observe a juggler who had a foul mouth, followed by three youngsters that must have watched some "Three Stooges" movies. The three kids were good, but that jugglers language in front of the children I thought was inappropriate. However, no one seemed to be offended. The last act was a young lady who performed with balls of fire. The bomberos were not needed. It was a commendable local production that the audience appeared to enjoy. For us, it was not a home run, but it was still entertaining. What do you want for free?

  Ah, but the best was yet to come, at least as far as the men were concerned. As we were strolling back to our car, I just happened to poke my head into one of the many stores that was open. Lo and behold, there were are mugs, all 16oz. of them. After some haggling, we left with our merchandise in hand, two noticeably happy campers. Our quest had been completed.

   It has been another pleasurable day in paradise and you guessed it, we all hit the hay early. Tomorrow, we are going to Juan and Clara's for lunch. I'm already starting to salivate. Hasta manana. 

   

Fishin'

   Gone fishin', instead of just a wishin'. I don't know what that's from, but that's what Bruce and I are doing today.

   We were up by 5 to prepare for our excursion. Bruce admitted he was so excited about the upcoming voyage, that he had trouble sleeping that night. Now fishing for some people down in this region means you're going for marlin, sailfish, and swordfish. This is the world capital when it comes to these saltwater species. You hook on to a 150 lb. blue marlin, and you're in for good 30-45 minute acrobatic fight to bring that baby aboard, and that's a small one. That sounded like work to us, besides we wanted to eat it, not mount it. We wanted something for the grill, not the wall. So we headed into San Jose and turned east to La Playita ( Little Beach), about a 10 minute drive. Our brides dropped us off just as the sun was ascending the horizon. We were going to be out to sea for six hours, so they wanted the car. Our mode of transportation for this half day outing was a 22-foot pangas powered by a 75 hp Honda. Built for speed, not for comfort. It was another superlative day with no wind and a projected high in the mid 80's. It was 65 or so this morning, thus the light windbreakers. With capitan Hector as our guide, we were off with great anticipation.

   About 16 km (10 miles) southeast of San Jose lies two seamounts called Bancos Gordos (Gordo Banks). This was our destination, along with about 15 other pangas. After initially going in the opposite direction to go get our bait, thirty minutes later we had our lines in the water. This place is the honey hole. You don't need no stinkin' GPS for this area, all the locals know it. Hector is in his mid 30's and has been fishing this area since his father took him as a child. It's what he knows and he does it well. He baits your hook, tells you how deep to cast it, and then gets your catch out of the water and into the boat for you. It was well worth the $170 for the two of us. After catching our fair share of bonita, which we threw back in, we did land a red snapper, sierra, and tuna. It took about 10 minutes to get that tuna in and that was enough of a battle for me. What a riot, we had a ball to say the least. We got back in around 1 or so and with a payment of a six pack of Pacificos, our fish was filleted, boned out, and ready for cooking. We were two tired puppies who were happy to see our brides there to take us home. We were ready for a nap.

   Unbeknown to the men that morning, the ladies decided that since they had a car to drive, why not go to Cabo San Lucus for breakfast. After consuming their order, rumor has it that more comparative shopping was conducted. This is just speculation on my part, but I think it's a pretty safe bet.

   You are not going to get fresher fish to eat than what we had, so it was tuna over mesquite that night for dinner. Bruce did the seasoning and cooking, and we all watched in admiration. We managed to chow our way through a quarter of that yellowfin before retiring to the sofa to watch CNN. It was a fabulous day and we all got to do something that we genuinely wanted to do. It just doesn't get any better.

   I close this with an inscription from the back of a T-shirt my bride bought for me in Cabo. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day. Perfect!

   

Playa

   It's 18 miles (29 km) of four lane highway between San Jose del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas along  Mexico 1, which is why the locals call it the Four lane. This stretch is officially called Corredor Nautico (Nautical Corridor), or just simply The Corridor. From it you can gain access to some 17 beaches along it's duration. We were in search of just one.

   The Corridor also has the priciest hotels in Los Cabos. For $250 and up, mainly up, you can relax in luxury at one of a dozen or so resorts along the coastline. It is illegal for any hotel or other private development to block all access to any beach along this area. They ARE public beaches. What a concept. The last time we were out here, we heard that Oprah Winfrey had thrown a birthday party for John Travolta at the One&Only Palmilla, which is just up the road from our condo. Patty was so close to seeing Oprah. Better bring your golf clubs, and some extra balls, as there are some world-class courses here to be played. Jack Nicklaus has designed three courses along The Corridor, and there's one each from Tom Fazio, Robert Trent Jones II, and Tom Weiskopf. That's a pretty good group. The green fees run about what it costs to spend the night at one of the resorts. But since we already had a place to stay and I did not bring my golf clubs, we headed for the beach.

   Last year the four of us went to Playa Chileno, so we wanted to go some place different. This time we went 2 km further up the road to Playa Santa Maria. For the first time since we had arrived, the wind decided to calm down. With a temperature in the mid 80's, it was an impeccable day. That's us under the umbrella. The water was warmer then in the fall and although I would not call it bath water, it didn't take all that long to get accustomed the temperature after you jumped in. The sea is also very clear and eminently popular with the snorkelers and divers. I would say that during our 3-4 hour stay there, we witnessed around 1/2 dozen vessels that cruised into the bay and dropped off around 20-30 people apiece to go snorkeling among the tropical fish. Bruce and I saw a couple of catamarans pull in that we thought we would like to have. You need to keep those tourists happy and they do just that. There are rock reefs at either end of this cove that drop down about 40 feet (13 meters) and that's were the fish like to hang out. We were lazy and didn't snorkel. We just had a ball going in the water and laying on the beach.

   Well, that's not quite all we did. The women like to go for the extra-curricular activities, like shopping. Why not shop from the comfort of your own beach? There were 10 or so people selling their goods along this sandy cove. Anything from dolls, hats, rugs, whistles, and oh, did I mention jewelry. I have never come across a pushy peddler. They have all been very friendly and if you don't want to be disturbed, you just say "Nada, gracias", and they are off to another potential buyer. You can get some good deals, but once again you have to be smart, which they realize immediately when they start to negotiate with our two brides. It's a little like a game show with all the bargaining going on, but both parties seem to part ways contented after the transaction is over. It looks like a tough way to make a living.

   It was back to the condo in anticipation of another meal prepared by the grill master. He found a good price on some nice thick rib eyes at Mega, and since he was there, might as well get some more shrimp. The sun and the water had us all worn out, so none of us lasted very long that night. Besides, Bruce and I had to get up before daylight the next morning. We had another adventure in store and we needed our rest.

   

Christmas

   Before and after shots from Christmas Eve at Patty's sisters house. We go over to Richard and Mary Ann's abode every year on Christmas Eve. It's a true delight to have the family gather together to witness the destruction of wrapping paper. What a blast.

   Neighborhood houses are all lit up, so the drive home is always full of oohs and aahs. Very attractive indeed.

   With all of this in mind, Patty and I would like to say Feliz Navidad and Merry Christmas to one and all. We wish you a splendid 2006.

   The closest thing to heaven on this planet anywhere, is a quiet Christmas morning in the Colorado snow.   -   Lyrics from a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band song