With apologies to Clement C Moore.....

This is becoming a yearly tradition!!!


'Twas the night before Christmas, I was driving Mex 1. No drunks, trucks, or burros, not even a bum;

Flying through the Vizcaino without even a care, Heading for San Nicholas, sure hope there's fish there;

The kids were asleep in the back of the 'burb. The tailwind was howling, quite a sound to be heard;

And Mamma in front ,and I at the wheel, had just settled down after quite a long meal,

When under the hood there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter.

Away to the shoulder I flew like a flash, Tore open the hood, now where's that sound at?

The moon on the breast of the Tres Virgenes, gave a luster of midday to the cactus around us.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a Ford F-150, with eight tiny reindeer?

That truck was lit up!, all green red and yellow, that driver was odd, a jolly old fellow.

He skin was like caramel, his eyes were all knowing, and his clothes were all tarnished with dirt and some oil;

A bundle of tools he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke, smelled like mota, he must be police;

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, He poked, and he prodded, he even called me a jerk!

Air filter, heater hose, brake fluid, spark plugs, "the yellows are biting" he said with a shrug,

Guillermo's got dorado, Verdugo does too, lots of bugs in Juanico, and Cabo has blues

Radiator, head gasket, fuel filter, oil pan, he's stripping the 'burb! gotta stop 'im while I can!

Not to worry, he says, I have found the problema, there's surf wax stuck all over your carbuereta!

With a wave of his hand, and some strange smelling dust, all the parts flew around, and landed right where they must,

He sprang to his feet, to the deer gave a nod, rev'ed that Ford up, and drove away in a fog.

The kids were all sleepy eyed and all started stirring, "get in the car, Dad, we all want to go surfing!"

I looked down the road, I could not see a sight, the marg's at Mallarimo's must have been strong this last night!

As I climed in the cab, with a smile, then a chuckle, I soon howled with laughter, thinking about all that rubble,

Then I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night !"


Feliz Navidad, you guys, and the best to you and your families for 2009!

Thanks (again)!

In the water, sculpins tend to be somewhat shy, hide in nooks, crannies, kelp, anything that keeps them under the radar. Once caught, they put up a nice little fight (whether on line or speared). When faced with a sculpin on your hook/spear, they tend to be rather intimidating, fiesty, not very good looking, and full of barbs, spines and pokey things that render a painful welt if not handled properly. However, once you get a sculpin into the pan or pot, the meat is tender, flaky, mild, and very sweet. A perfect complement to a nice salsa and a frozen snifter of the best tequila, or a mild poblano bechamel and a fruity chardonnay.

As my friends have commented, this fish fits my personality to a "T"!!

Go figure........

xmas..that is COOL !!