Thank God that's over.

Just finished my Christmas letter. Thank you sweet baby Jesus. You know, this is one of those funny little things about Christmas that I mentioned in an earlier post, one of those things that I'm supposed to do that makes everything during this time of year way more complicated than it needs to be. Granted, it's self-imposed, but it gets harder each year to pump that baby out. Admittedly, I do write pretty awesome Christmas letters, and I'm not just saying that because it's the sort of thing I'd normally say about myself. Seriously, people camp outside their mail boxes every year awaiting the arrival of my Christmas letter. It's that good. But the thing about being great is that you can only sustain it for so long, people. My light can't shine bright in the sky forever. One day, as sad as it is to contemplate, my big ole hot ball of gas is going to burn out. It's the way of things. But that time ain't now, so I'm still a SUPERSTAR. And, yes, I did just finish drinking a couple glasses of wine. Why do you ask?