Saturday, September 4, 2010

Eek! A Mouse

It was all go around these parts practically to Cape Hatteras (I guess) this time yesterday as we along the East Coast battened down the hatches (the only things I ever hear used in connection with a verb whose origins I have no clue about) for Earl the Storm of Some Kind

I had sort of followed this even though I find my own internal world vastly more engrossing than almost anything outside and....I'd read there's a storm acomin' and shiver me timbers,
etcetera, usw. Some places and organizations even did preventative measures of major magnitude to include, reported a Face book friend having a Patch of good fortune with her new position, school-age children where she lived being sent home Early on Thursday (Lissa, I hate that you came up with that, and I didn't, and hope every show you like, especially Friday Night Lights, goes black). 

In these here parts, I typed, while shifting the blade of long grass dangling off my lip from the left side to the right side of my mouth (I'm channeling William Faulkner), bad weather-be it snow, sleet, rain, dark of night or postal workers, causes us to head directly to our local grocery and buy toilet paper and milk (to wash it down). If you haven't seen a neighbor in a while or that guy next door who borrowed twenty bucks until 'next week when I get paid' two years ago and everyone in between, lines up belly to backside to stock up and talk about, yep, you guessed it, the weather.

If you've looked out your window this morning (assuming you live in these parts, and, for the record, ALL of my parts live in these parts) or turned on the TV to see if anyone you know is bobbing up and down in the Atlantic while back on dry land, Lassie is trying to tell Paul and Ruth Martin that Timmy is in trouble, then you know, we might have worked ourselves up a tad bit more than was warranted (Sounds like a great name for the next hurricane) . 

Here in Connecticut we had pouty rain. That's when there's a temper tantrum for about five minutes as the heavens open and you think we'll never be dry again and then, as suddenly as that happened, it stops happening and we have mist and moisture where folks, like me, who wear glasses (and catch forward passes, or however that goes) wish they had intermittent windshield wipers since little dots of precipitation form on the lenses and lower the visibility (and our enthusiasm for the Great Outdoors, especially the Being in The part of it). 

I had hoped to put on my Gordon's Fisherman Macintosh and my yellow rain boots (George is on layaway; and just six more payments! Sure hope they're feeding him). Unlike the rain, they are imaginary, but are nevertheless exciting to think about which was all Earl turned out to be as he went from drizzle to fizzle. So now I'm hearing complaints from folks about 'I wish they'd get the forecast right' and 'I don't know who comes up with this stuff' and remarks even less kind about them, whoever them is this week (the guys and gals at The Weather Store?). What we're forgetting, because sometimes half a glass is worth two in the bush, Senior and Junior, is hurricane season is just starting and the fun is only beginning. Where's Hugo and Claire? Kate! Meet me at the raft.
-bill kenny

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