Afternoon, Twibe. I'm writing this at 11-ish on Tuesday night, to auto-post on Wednesday. I'll be busy Wednesday morning packing and hauling presents (cowboy Luke wrote Santa an elaborate letter asking for something like 23 Lego Star Wars kits; he's about to learn the true meaning of that familiar childhood refrain: You get what you get and you don't get upset. . . ) I sure hope he'll be happy with his gifts from us and Santa, although the "Death Star" and "Republic Gunship" won't be part of his haul. Today, I tried to explain to him what a treat it was for so many children at one time to get an orange on Christmas, but he just looked at me like I was nuts.
This morning, before work, I gave a presentation to Luke's class about whitetail deer, complete with the skull and antlers of a nice buck I shot in Montana a few years ago. I was a little nervous about it, but the kids loved the overview of the whitetail and the place the animal has played in our culture going back to the native tribes, and I chose not to pussyfoot around the delicate issues of how exactly you get deer meat (I knew they'd ask). Kids, I find, are awfully good about accepting facts if you don't treat them like. . . kids. And you begin to lose them, quickly, when you start to fudge and qualify.
I invited Joan, a teacher's assitant in his class, come up and eat some venison jerky made from the very deer whose skull I had with me, and the little ones were impressed. Joan is from the West Indies and knows from good food! The kids loved touching the deer's (still intact) teeth and eye sockets, as well as the antlers. The show, complete with about 20 pictures, was a big hit - especially the photo of the smiley face made in the snow using deer poop (which is usually in pellets about the size and shape of blueberries).
The picture above is of the horses at David and Julie's ranch on the Milk River in northern Montana, where it's been minus-20 and below for about a week now; I think White Christmas is the operative phrase. I'd like to see the coulees and prairie covered in snow some day, although I imagine it's overwhelming.
I always think it's going to be slow at this time of year, and in some ways it is. But between what is becoming an annual trip to Florida in mid-December, the pending holidays, and these weblog subjects that just seem to pop up, almost out of nowhere, I found myself once again crunched for time, still at the office at 6 PM.
Well, that's over now. Sitting here on this still, cold night in New York while my wife and son sleep, just thinking about the upcoming days, I feel very lucky to have as great a group of readers and contributors as you all. I learned earlier today that a long-time Twibe member (mostly a lurker, but she's forgiven for that) will be having a baby in May. I'm under penalty of death or worse (a David Ferrer vs. Igor Andreev match, on slow, damp red clay) not to divulge her name, so I'll just leave it at that. I detect a distinct danger of becoming the first author of a tennis weblog to have multi-generational readership. But I'm still more fearful of being foolish than of being old, and in my experience those should be mutually exclusive but aren't, necessarily.
So here's wishing you all a Merry Christmas and holidays, wherever the season finds you. I'm grateful to you all, and thank you for all for the insights and perspectives to which you've opened my eyes and mind. I think they've made me a better and wiser tennis reporter, and as I often tell colleagues and acquaintances, especially those who are not completely Internet savvy, some of you are more astute, creative thinkers than some of the professionals with whom I share the trenches. And a special thanks to the Mod Squad, as well as my awesome stable of contributors, including Rosangel (she'll be posting some special features this week, starting today) Jackie-Oh, Andrew Burton, Asad Raza , Ptenisnet, car-less Jay, Ed McGrogan, James LaRosa, et al.
May blessings fall like giant snowflakes on all of you.
And sure, you can go OT. . .