Well, people, it’s a bit after 6 am on Howland Island, and the birds and crabs there are celebrating the dawn of a new day. The game is over everywhere on the planet, and it’s time to celebrate our victories and give our losses their due.

What’s that mean? First off, it means winning LDBC-elfies. Post your smiling, victorious faces as comments, please. I want to mix those in with the losses and leaven the sadness of defeat. To get you started, here’s mine. (I haven’t bothered to shower today and won’t subject you all to my Vonnegut-like pandemic hair, which really does need to have a machete taken to it.) I decided to highlight our light-up snowflake, which provides a glimmer of cheer against the gray backdrop of the day.

Mrs. LDBC and I rode to victory this year, and I know many of you did, too. We are joyous in our win but mindful of those who fell before The Boy was booted back to wherever the hell he hangs out the rest of the year. (Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll make something up.)

So let’s see those smiles and victory dances. And don’t forget to fill out the form (bit.ly/LDBCform) with your win so that we can gather some fairly complete stats. For there will be stats once I get my act together to crunch all the numbers and do the wrap-up post (which seems to be getting later and later, 12 years in to this Thing of Ours).

Also, please don’t forget our friends at Americares, which is once again our charity of choice. People have been generous this year, and we really do appreciate it. And along with that comes my usual message. There’s no requirement to donate. Some people would rather give their own way, and others are finding it a little too tight this year. No problem. But if you’re up for it, the money goes to a great organization, and you can donate here.

Anyway. I suppose I should make myself presentable. We have to go grab food for tonight and our traditional eight-hour slow-cooker roast, which is tomorrow’s dinner. (It used to be five hours. But we switched recipes in order to be even slower.)

So with that, I’ll wish you and yours very safe and Happy Holidays and a bright New Year. A dozen years on, you make this Thing of Ours a pleasure to run, and you help warm the cold days and nights of December.

Please be kind to one another. No matter how it looks at times, we’re all in this together.