I'm ruined!

No thanks to Michael Swartz I am now a ruined woman!

"Come on over!" I said, "Bring your set-up to the Telescope Workshop."
I said.

Little did I know that the words I uttered would doom me for the rest
of my life! The first sign of what was to come was when Michael began
unloading his gear. His young son (Michael, part duex) was a willing
assistant and seemed to understand much more than I the importance of
what his father was unpacking. After the first couple of loads came
from Michael's car I realized there was much more to come. Rousing
myself from my stupor I managed to gather my wits about me and offered
to assist unloading. When I got a good look at all the boxes and
bundles in the center of my backyard I realized, this was to be no
casual observing. This was to be a life changing event.

I was torn away from the mesmerizing sight as other workshop attendees
began to show. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the awesome Coronado
filter. It looked more like an essential part of a highly
sophisticated defense weapon than a filter. When I returned a short
while later Michael was finishing the last touches. Seeing the set-up
together I began to get that old fear. You know, that fear you get as
a child going into the fine china and crystal store with mom and you
know there was no way you could afford to pay for something if you
broke it. I understood that Michael had not been kidding when he had
said that he probably kept Scope City in business single-handedly.

I was hypnotized by it all, the chairs, the tables, the large
umbrella, that comfortable observing chair, but most of all: that
solar scope. Yet again, I was torn away but more arrivals. I returned
to see my husband Cary stock-still at the eyepiece. I don't think I
have ever seen him immobile that long during a workshop. I need to
stress how odd this was. Cary was sitting in the blazing sun
completely still. I stood in the shade and watched him, waiting for
him to move. After a bit longer I began to worry. "Cary, don't get a
sunburn!" I warned. He did not move. I approached. "Hey! Let other
people look!" I said. Cary finally stirred from the eyepiece and
suddenly he was very insistent that I look.

Now, I was exposed very fresh in my observing career to many horror
stories about looking at the sun and I have already admitted to others
that I am a "solar chicken", only observing images of the sun that
were projected on a screen. But I have to tell you that Michael's
confidence, the professionalism of his set up, the sheer sleek beauty
of his scope and Cary's silent awe erased any hint of fear from my
mind. Suddenly, I was eager to see what could so enchant a seasoned
astronomer like my husband.

I mounted the observing chair and began to feel the sun's heat: an
essential part of the experience, that created the proper sense of
reality to the absolutely unreal image that caressed my eyes. I cannot
tell you what I saw first, there was so much to see that at first my
gaze darted about to get in everything at once. It was candy, or
perhaps more like bright orange chocolate, so rich and full-bodied
that my salivary glands went into over-time. My eyes devoured
everything, over and over again until I finally sated the first edge
of my solar hunger and I could then take the time to touch on the
magnificent, clear details. Areas of light and dark, swirls and peaks,
bridges of light, prominences of fire that I knew were several times
the size of Earth but my mind struggled to grasp the magnitude of such
a concept.

Stargazing at night, viewing stars, nebula's, planets, the moon always
felt so serene and magnificent to me. Like a different Enya song
playing for each night-time object. Seeing the sun at the eyepiece of
Michael's scope was passionate, violent, searing like compositions of
Beethoven or Richard Wagner. Instead of being calmed, I was energized.
My heart beat faster and I felt as if I must turn away but could not.
Time stood still for me until I began to feel faint from the heat. I
know I had made a few exclamations but my brain was too otherwise
occupied to remember what they were. When I broke away I looked at my
profusely sweating husband and said. "We need to put on some
sunscreen."

The rest of the day I was too busy to return until Michael encouraged
folks to take another look before the sun was too low in the sky. I
leapt up from my chair, abandoned what I was doing and hustled back
out into the heat. He warned that the sight was not quite as
spectacular as it had been. He was right, but it was still incredible
to behold. That was when the realization hit. How could I ever look at
the sun through a lesser scope? How could anything but his magnificent
Takahashi and Coronado even come close to satisfying my future solar
cravings.

I looked at Michael with a pained expression. "You have ruined me!" I
cried. Michael, red-faced and sweating, was stunned and momentarily
confused. I continued my rant. I confessed to all present that I had
been planning on converting Mort (my homemade dob) for solar viewing
and perhaps do some sketching as well. But I knew that those plans
were for naught. How could I even approach solar viewing through my
dinky, lovable scope after the magnificence of Michael's?

How dare you Michael Swartz! I am outraged!

When are you coming back?

Dawn Baird-Chleborad

Photographs from this event are he
http://fullmoon.telescopebuilding.com/
Click on the gallery link

"Dawn Baird-Chleborad" wrote in message
m...

I looked at Michael with a pained expression. "You have ruined me!" I
cried. Michael, red-faced and sweating, was stunned and momentarily
confused. I continued my rant. I confessed to all present that I had
been planning on converting Mort (my homemade dob) for solar viewing
and perhaps do some sketching as well. But I knew that those plans
were for naught. How could I even approach solar viewing through my
dinky, lovable scope after the magnificence of Michael's?

Fear not Dawn. Coronado has a PreScripTion to ease your pain.

Paul Lawler wrote:
"Dawn Baird-Chleborad" wrote in message
m...


I looked at Michael with a pained expression. "You have ruined me!" I
cried. Michael, red-faced and sweating, was stunned and momentarily
confused. I continued my rant. I confessed to all present that I had
been planning on converting Mort (my homemade dob) for solar viewing
and perhaps do some sketching as well. But I knew that those plans
were for naught. How could I even approach solar viewing through my
dinky, lovable scope after the magnificence of Michael's?


Fear not Dawn. Coronado has a PreScripTion to ease your pain.


Indeed: The PST has to be the best thing going in astronomy today --
assuming the closest star is of interest.

Phil

Bull crap! You swallowed the wrong pill - that's all!


Dawn Baird-Chleborad wrote:

No thanks to Michael Swartz I am now a ruined woman!

"Come on over!" I said, "Bring your set-up to the Telescope Workshop."
I said.

Little did I know that the words I uttered would doom me for the rest
of my life! The first sign of what was to come was when Michael began
unloading his gear. His young son (Michael, part duex) was a willing
assistant and seemed to understand much more than I the importance of
what his father was unpacking. After the first couple of loads came
from Michael's car I realized there was much more to come. Rousing
myself from my stupor I managed to gather my wits about me and offered
to assist unloading. When I got a good look at all the boxes and
bundles in the center of my backyard I realized, this was to be no
casual observing. This was to be a life changing event.

I was torn away from the mesmerizing sight as other workshop attendees
began to show. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the awesome Coronado
filter. It looked more like an essential part of a highly
sophisticated defense weapon than a filter. When I returned a short
while later Michael was finishing the last touches. Seeing the set-up
together I began to get that old fear. You know, that fear you get as
a child going into the fine china and crystal store with mom and you
know there was no way you could afford to pay for something if you
broke it. I understood that Michael had not been kidding when he had
said that he probably kept Scope City in business single-handedly.

I was hypnotized by it all, the chairs, the tables, the large
umbrella, that comfortable observing chair, but most of all: that
solar scope. Yet again, I was torn away but more arrivals. I returned
to see my husband Cary stock-still at the eyepiece. I don't think I
have ever seen him immobile that long during a workshop. I need to
stress how odd this was. Cary was sitting in the blazing sun
completely still. I stood in the shade and watched him, waiting for
him to move. After a bit longer I began to worry. "Cary, don't get a
sunburn!" I warned. He did not move. I approached. "Hey! Let other
people look!" I said. Cary finally stirred from the eyepiece and
suddenly he was very insistent that I look.

Now, I was exposed very fresh in my observing career to many horror
stories about looking at the sun and I have already admitted to others
that I am a "solar chicken", only observing images of the sun that
were projected on a screen. But I have to tell you that Michael's
confidence, the professionalism of his set up, the sheer sleek beauty
of his scope and Cary's silent awe erased any hint of fear from my
mind. Suddenly, I was eager to see what could so enchant a seasoned
astronomer like my husband.

I mounted the observing chair and began to feel the sun's heat: an
essential part of the experience, that created the proper sense of
reality to the absolutely unreal image that caressed my eyes. I cannot
tell you what I saw first, there was so much to see that at first my
gaze darted about to get in everything at once. It was candy, or
perhaps more like bright orange chocolate, so rich and full-bodied
that my salivary glands went into over-time. My eyes devoured
everything, over and over again until I finally sated the first edge
of my solar hunger and I could then take the time to touch on the
magnificent, clear details. Areas of light and dark, swirls and peaks,
bridges of light, prominences of fire that I knew were several times
the size of Earth but my mind struggled to grasp the magnitude of such
a concept.

Stargazing at night, viewing stars, nebula's, planets, the moon always
felt so serene and magnificent to me. Like a different Enya song
playing for each night-time object. Seeing the sun at the eyepiece of
Michael's scope was passionate, violent, searing like compositions of
Beethoven or Richard Wagner. Instead of being calmed, I was energized.
My heart beat faster and I felt as if I must turn away but could not.
Time stood still for me until I began to feel faint from the heat. I
know I had made a few exclamations but my brain was too otherwise
occupied to remember what they were. When I broke away I looked at my
profusely sweating husband and said. "We need to put on some
sunscreen."

The rest of the day I was too busy to return until Michael encouraged
folks to take another look before the sun was too low in the sky. I
leapt up from my chair, abandoned what I was doing and hustled back
out into the heat. He warned that the sight was not quite as
spectacular as it had been. He was right, but it was still incredible
to behold. That was when the realization hit. How could I ever look at
the sun through a lesser scope? How could anything but his magnificent
Takahashi and Coronado even come close to satisfying my future solar
cravings.

I looked at Michael with a pained expression. "You have ruined me!" I
cried. Michael, red-faced and sweating, was stunned and momentarily
confused. I continued my rant. I confessed to all present that I had
been planning on converting Mort (my homemade dob) for solar viewing
and perhaps do some sketching as well. But I knew that those plans
were for naught. How could I even approach solar viewing through my
dinky, lovable scope after the magnificence of Michael's?

How dare you Michael Swartz! I am outraged!

When are you coming back?

Dawn Baird-Chleborad

Photographs from this event are he
http://fullmoon.telescopebuilding.com/
Click on the gallery link

"Dawn Baird-Chleborad" wrote in message
m...
No thanks to Michael Swartz I am now a ruined woman!

"Come on over!" I said, "Bring your set-up to the Telescope Workshop."
I said.

Little did I know that the words I uttered would doom me for the rest
of my life! The first sign of what was to come was when Michael began
unloading his gear.

So what is your point?

All I can say Dawn is that, as a woman, you should know that birth is
painful, and therefore re-birth is also painful. You have been re-born as a
serious solar observer, after having seen the hydrogen-alpha light. Go now
and drain your accounts, for money is the root of all evil in this world and
something you don't need. Go and become a solar observing evangelist and
convert other souls to the wonder of the 656 nm line.

And have a nice day ! ^_^
--
Yours Truly, tongue in cheek, and just a little of the S-word,
--- Dave
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The future's so bright . . .
I gotta wear shades !
----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dawn Baird-Chleborad" wrote in message
m...
No thanks to Michael Swartz I am now a ruined woman!

"Come on over!" I said, "Bring your set-up to the Telescope Workshop."
I said.

Little did I know that the words I uttered would doom me for the rest
of my life! The first sign of what was to come was when Michael began
unloading his gear. His young son (Michael, part duex) was a willing
assistant and seemed to understand much more than I the importance of
what his father was unpacking. After the first couple of loads came
from Michael's car I realized there was much more to come. Rousing
myself from my stupor I managed to gather my wits about me and offered
to assist unloading. When I got a good look at all the boxes and
bundles in the center of my backyard I realized, this was to be no
casual observing. This was to be a life changing event.

I was torn away from the mesmerizing sight as other workshop attendees
began to show. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the awesome Coronado
filter. It looked more like an essential part of a highly
sophisticated defense weapon than a filter. When I returned a short
while later Michael was finishing the last touches. Seeing the set-up
together I began to get that old fear. You know, that fear you get as
a child going into the fine china and crystal store with mom and you
know there was no way you could afford to pay for something if you
broke it. I understood that Michael had not been kidding when he had
said that he probably kept Scope City in business single-handedly.

I was hypnotized by it all, the chairs, the tables, the large
umbrella, that comfortable observing chair, but most of all: that
solar scope. Yet again, I was torn away but more arrivals. I returned
to see my husband Cary stock-still at the eyepiece. I don't think I
have ever seen him immobile that long during a workshop. I need to
stress how odd this was. Cary was sitting in the blazing sun
completely still. I stood in the shade and watched him, waiting for
him to move. After a bit longer I began to worry. "Cary, don't get a
sunburn!" I warned. He did not move. I approached. "Hey! Let other
people look!" I said. Cary finally stirred from the eyepiece and
suddenly he was very insistent that I look.

Now, I was exposed very fresh in my observing career to many horror
stories about looking at the sun and I have already admitted to others
that I am a "solar chicken", only observing images of the sun that
were projected on a screen. But I have to tell you that Michael's
confidence, the professionalism of his set up, the sheer sleek beauty
of his scope and Cary's silent awe erased any hint of fear from my
mind. Suddenly, I was eager to see what could so enchant a seasoned
astronomer like my husband.

I mounted the observing chair and began to feel the sun's heat: an
essential part of the experience, that created the proper sense of
reality to the absolutely unreal image that caressed my eyes. I cannot
tell you what I saw first, there was so much to see that at first my
gaze darted about to get in everything at once. It was candy, or
perhaps more like bright orange chocolate, so rich and full-bodied
that my salivary glands went into over-time. My eyes devoured
everything, over and over again until I finally sated the first edge
of my solar hunger and I could then take the time to touch on the
magnificent, clear details. Areas of light and dark, swirls and peaks,
bridges of light, prominences of fire that I knew were several times
the size of Earth but my mind struggled to grasp the magnitude of such
a concept.

Stargazing at night, viewing stars, nebula's, planets, the moon always
felt so serene and magnificent to me. Like a different Enya song
playing for each night-time object. Seeing the sun at the eyepiece of
Michael's scope was passionate, violent, searing like compositions of
Beethoven or Richard Wagner. Instead of being calmed, I was energized.
My heart beat faster and I felt as if I must turn away but could not.
Time stood still for me until I began to feel faint from the heat. I
know I had made a few exclamations but my brain was too otherwise
occupied to remember what they were. When I broke away I looked at my
profusely sweating husband and said. "We need to put on some
sunscreen."

The rest of the day I was too busy to return until Michael encouraged
folks to take another look before the sun was too low in the sky. I
leapt up from my chair, abandoned what I was doing and hustled back
out into the heat. He warned that the sight was not quite as
spectacular as it had been. He was right, but it was still incredible
to behold. That was when the realization hit. How could I ever look at
the sun through a lesser scope? How could anything but his magnificent
Takahashi and Coronado even come close to satisfying my future solar
cravings.

I looked at Michael with a pained expression. "You have ruined me!" I
cried. Michael, red-faced and sweating, was stunned and momentarily
confused. I continued my rant. I confessed to all present that I had
been planning on converting Mort (my homemade dob) for solar viewing
and perhaps do some sketching as well. But I knew that those plans
were for naught. How could I even approach solar viewing through my
dinky, lovable scope after the magnificence of Michael's?

How dare you Michael Swartz! I am outraged!

When are you coming back?

Dawn Baird-Chleborad

Photographs from this event are he
http://fullmoon.telescopebuilding.com/
Click on the gallery link

"Paul Lawler" wrote in message

Fear not Dawn. Coronado has a PreScripTion to ease your pain.

Absolutely! Dawn, I just received a PST and I can relate to your tale. I
must say yours is the first observing report I've read that sounds like a
harlequin romance g. Glad to see you kept it family friendly.

Ed T.

All I can say is that it's all so much PP (Priceless Post.) Thanks
for brightening my day . . . or rather night.


On 8 Aug 2004 20:33:41 -0700, (Dawn
Baird-Chleborad) wrote:

No thanks to Michael Swartz I am now a ruined woman!

"Come on over!" I said, "Bring your set-up to the Telescope Workshop."
I said.

Little did I know that the words I uttered would doom me for the rest
of my life! The first sign of what was to come was when Michael began
unloading his gear. His young son (Michael, part duex) was a willing
assistant and seemed to understand much more than I the importance of
what his father was unpacking. After the first couple of loads came
from Michael's car I realized there was much more to come. Rousing
myself from my stupor I managed to gather my wits about me and offered
to assist unloading. When I got a good look at all the boxes and
bundles in the center of my backyard I realized, this was to be no
casual observing. This was to be a life changing event.

I was torn away from the mesmerizing sight as other workshop attendees
began to show. I did, however, catch a glimpse of the awesome Coronado
filter. It looked more like an essential part of a highly
sophisticated defense weapon than a filter. When I returned a short
while later Michael was finishing the last touches. Seeing the set-up
together I began to get that old fear. You know, that fear you get as
a child going into the fine china and crystal store with mom and you
know there was no way you could afford to pay for something if you
broke it. I understood that Michael had not been kidding when he had
said that he probably kept Scope City in business single-handedly.

I was hypnotized by it all, the chairs, the tables, the large
umbrella, that comfortable observing chair, but most of all: that
solar scope. Yet again, I was torn away but more arrivals. I returned
to see my husband Cary stock-still at the eyepiece. I don't think I
have ever seen him immobile that long during a workshop. I need to
stress how odd this was. Cary was sitting in the blazing sun
completely still. I stood in the shade and watched him, waiting for
him to move. After a bit longer I began to worry. "Cary, don't get a
sunburn!" I warned. He did not move. I approached. "Hey! Let other
people look!" I said. Cary finally stirred from the eyepiece and
suddenly he was very insistent that I look.

Now, I was exposed very fresh in my observing career to many horror
stories about looking at the sun and I have already admitted to others
that I am a "solar chicken", only observing images of the sun that
were projected on a screen. But I have to tell you that Michael's
confidence, the professionalism of his set up, the sheer sleek beauty
of his scope and Cary's silent awe erased any hint of fear from my
mind. Suddenly, I was eager to see what could so enchant a seasoned
astronomer like my husband.

I mounted the observing chair and began to feel the sun's heat: an
essential part of the experience, that created the proper sense of
reality to the absolutely unreal image that caressed my eyes. I cannot
tell you what I saw first, there was so much to see that at first my
gaze darted about to get in everything at once. It was candy, or
perhaps more like bright orange chocolate, so rich and full-bodied
that my salivary glands went into over-time. My eyes devoured
everything, over and over again until I finally sated the first edge
of my solar hunger and I could then take the time to touch on the
magnificent, clear details. Areas of light and dark, swirls and peaks,
bridges of light, prominences of fire that I knew were several times
the size of Earth but my mind struggled to grasp the magnitude of such
a concept.

Stargazing at night, viewing stars, nebula's, planets, the moon always
felt so serene and magnificent to me. Like a different Enya song
playing for each night-time object. Seeing the sun at the eyepiece of
Michael's scope was passionate, violent, searing like compositions of
Beethoven or Richard Wagner. Instead of being calmed, I was energized.
My heart beat faster and I felt as if I must turn away but could not.
Time stood still for me until I began to feel faint from the heat. I
know I had made a few exclamations but my brain was too otherwise
occupied to remember what they were. When I broke away I looked at my
profusely sweating husband and said. "We need to put on some
sunscreen."

The rest of the day I was too busy to return until Michael encouraged
folks to take another look before the sun was too low in the sky. I
leapt up from my chair, abandoned what I was doing and hustled back
out into the heat. He warned that the sight was not quite as
spectacular as it had been. He was right, but it was still incredible
to behold. That was when the realization hit. How could I ever look at
the sun through a lesser scope? How could anything but his magnificent
Takahashi and Coronado even come close to satisfying my future solar
cravings.

I looked at Michael with a pained expression. "You have ruined me!" I
cried. Michael, red-faced and sweating, was stunned and momentarily
confused. I continued my rant. I confessed to all present that I had
been planning on converting Mort (my homemade dob) for solar viewing
and perhaps do some sketching as well. But I knew that those plans
were for naught. How could I even approach solar viewing through my
dinky, lovable scope after the magnificence of Michael's?

How dare you Michael Swartz! I am outraged!

When are you coming back?

Dawn Baird-Chleborad

Photographs from this event are he
http://fullmoon.telescopebuilding.com/
Click on the gallery link

Thanks for all the feedback folks! I know my "OR's" are not written in
the usual format. I guess my views of astronomy are from a different
angle than most. I am hoping that most of the folks who read what I
write will remember the addage: "Variety is the spice of life!"

Dawn (still) in Sacramento


FAB wrote in message . ..
All I can say is that it's all so much PP (Priceless Post.) Thanks
for brightening my day . . . or rather night.

"MikeThomas" wrote in message news:nNLRc.50861$yT2.24252@clgrps13...
"Dawn Baird-Chleborad" wrote in message
m...
No thanks to Michael Swartz I am now a ruined woman!

"Come on over!" I said, "Bring your set-up to the Telescope Workshop."
I said.

Little did I know that the words I uttered would doom me for the rest
of my life! The first sign of what was to come was when Michael began
unloading his gear.

So what is your point?

Duh! That observing the Sun in hydrogen-alpha light is a fantastic
experience and she's recommending it to others...

Jim Johnson