Tell Fat Orange Rocketman that it's not Little Rocketman.

Celestial photography, it turns out, is not easy from the heaving deck of a small boat being tossed about in the middle of the Atlantic, even from a largish boat in smallish seas.

The answer, as David posted earlier, is Venus and the Moon were dancing a duet in the pre dawn sky. Venus is so bright that as the sun lightened the sky it gave the moon a run for it's money.

At the risk of revealing invasive thoughts I digress to disasters at sea. Not to us, as this has been but a 3 hour day sail (tour) that just wont end. More along the lines of "On The Beach", where nuclear Holocaust has destroyed life on land. Being in the middle of the Atlantic (we just started the day with champagne to celebrate reaching the equidistant point between start and finish) without news of the world one (I) can start to wonder if it's all still there. Of course with cell phones and satellites we know our loved ones are there and safe as they know we are here and safe.

But what if it all went dark? Which movie do we imagine ourselves in? "On the Beach" alone at sea wondering if any one else still breaths? Cormac McCarthy's "The Road", grim survival with what purpose? Or Mel Gibson's "Road Warrior", with a hint of optimism?

Being optimistic by nature I'll take the role of Mad Max. At least in my fantasy version. It looks like a lot of fun if you fancy adventure. The reality might be somewhat different though. As my ship mates have dubbed me Spock on this voyage, I doubt I'd get the part of Max. More likely I'd take the role of the of geeky aviator in his improvised aircraft. Definitely in my wheelhouse.

Don't read this and fear for my sanity. Once long ago I spent 35 days at sea alone sailing to Polynesia in a 24ft Farr without throwing myself overboard. In that day there was no communication with anyone, let alone loved ones. The only connection to humanity was a short wave receiver yielding a scratchy BBC and the faint beeps of the WWV time signal. Since becoming a parent I often reflect on the stress that must have caused my mom. Granted by then she was almost used to it. Then again, she let us tumble about the car without seat belts, play with dry cleaning bags and shoot arrows straight up in the air and dodge them on the way down.

So on we sail, with all the sanity we ever had still in tact. I've settled into my role on this Enterprise while Mark gallantly fills the boots and spandex shirt of Kirk. The two doctors are still fighting for the role of Bones, although a development has occurred with the first diagnosis being given to Cy by David: Gout. Cy's ankle has swollen and become sore without insult. Must be the rich food and champagne for breakfast lifestyle we're living.

Still, not all the blinking lights I saw in the night sky are explainable by known (to me) science. If THEY are up there, I hope they keep the us safe from the fools in charge.