RoCkInG The Boat!

The Blog That Feels Lonelier Than A Parking Lot When The Last Car Pulls Away

10 Years At Sea On The World Wide Web!

a boat




My Space


Locations of visitors to this page
Visitor Locations

Add to Technorati Favorites

Mike Daisey
Gallivanting Monkey
Flaming Banjo
Some Guy Named Paul
Yellow Dog
The Rachiest One
Moe Is Their Leader

Metroblogging Seattle
The SunBreak
This Modern World
Warren Ellis Rages
Paul Mullin Rants

AFTRA National
AFTRA Seattle
Actors Equity
Theatre Puget Sound
Seattle Actor
Annex Theatre
Center For Wooden Boats
NW Film Forum
Comfort Music
Aisle Say

Caution Zero Network
The Half Brothers
Harvey Danger
Purty Mouth
Hands Of Kali

The Great Rambini
Got Beets?
The Baying Hound
Giraffes & Elephants
Dr. Peoni
The Beige One
Condiment Grrl
Ghetto Hipster
Don't Worry Be Hambly
Bookkisser (Molly II)


(Google Calendar)


November 2002

December 2002

January 2003

February 2003

March 2003

April 2003

May 2003

June 2003

July 2003

August 2003

September 2003

October 2003

November 2003

December 2003

January 2004

February 2004

March 2004

April 2004

May 2004

June 2004

July 2004

August 2004

September 2004

October 2004

November 2004

December 2004

January 2005

February 2005

March 2005

April 2005

May 2005

June 2005

July 2005

August 2005

September 2005

October 2005

November 2005

December 2005

January 2006

February 2006

March 2006

April 2006

May 2006

June 2006

July 2006

August 2006

September 2006

October 2006

November 2006

December 2006

January 2007

February 2007

March 2007

April 2007

May 2007

June 2007

July 2007

August 2007

September 2007

October 2007

November 2007

December 2007

January 2008

February 2008

March 2008

April 2008

May 2008

June 2008

July 2008

August 2008

September 2008

October 2008

November 2008

December 2008

January 2009

February 2009

March 2009

April 2009

May 2009

June 2009

July 2009

August 2009

September 2009

October 2009

November 2009

December 2009

January 2010

February 2010

March 2010

April 2010

May 2010

June 2010

August 2010

September 2010

October 2010

October 2012


Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Gloom, Dispair And Agony On Me

Walked into the office this morning to confront one of my worst nightmares - the SAG Exec had taken the coffee maker last night for an off-site meeting - AND FAILED TO RETURN IT!!!

I have been reduced to consuming a can of Coca Cola to alleviate symptoms of imminent caffeine withdrawal.

Otherwise, things up here are same-old-same-old. We're well into what passes around these parts for the "dog days" of summer; now in our third consecutive week of temps in the upper 70's/lower 80's. I realize that's nothing compared to the heat-wave drying out other parts of the country, but it's the sheer monotony that has people wandering around, grumbling about the lack of rainfall. We're nowhere close to drought conditions, but being the environmentally cognizant bunch we are, lawns across the city lie sere and parched, grass withers to the color of hay from lack of watering, while fruit trees and berry bushes meanwhile suck the few precious drops of moisture from the ground to sustain their almost obscene productivity.

The plum tree outside my apartment door for example, is literally dropping fruit with an alarming abundance; even the local critters seem to have had their fill, and are now avoiding the fallen cornucopea of juicy droplets with outright disdain. My friends politely pluck one or two offerings from the overflowing plastic bags I foist upon them at every opportunity, but I can tell they're quickly approaching the point where they may begin to view them, not as edibles, but rather ammunition with which to pelt me. My refigerator is sagging under the weight of cobblers, freezer jams, sauces, and whatever other recipes I can come up with to reduce the seemingly infinite bounty. I have bowls, bags, boxes, even egg crates filled to overflowing with the plump purple ovoids. Every morning I leave for work kicking aside the previous night's fallen soldiers; each evening I return, only to find a new battalian of the struck down littering my path.

And this doesn't even take into account the Japanese pear tree, which is just now starting to release its progeny. At least it'll be a change of variety.

Still, despite the overwhelming evidence of fecundity all around, we've reached that point in the year when we can tell summer has peaked out, and begun its slow, downslope march toward the southern tropics, and before winter arrives for an extended stay, bringing with it seven months of gloom and drizzle (Fall, traditionally of only about two weeks duration around here, rarely counts as a full-fledged season). Usually, we start marking the days in early August with the region's annual Seafair celebrations, culmination of our Summer season. If we're lucky (and depending on the vagaries of Global Warming), we might be able to look forward to an extended "Indian Summer" lasting well into October, so we're not counting summer down-for-the-count quite yet. But, this morning is one that brings just the faintest hint of what's to come: a light, gray overcast, just enough to drop the morning temps a few degrees, and diffuse the sunlight enough to act as a reminder, like Winter has just sent us a postcard from Belize saying, "Having a wonderful time, wish you were here! See you soon!"

Yes, Summer has begun a slow, meandering jaunt south, but it's not in any hurry. Walking stick in hand, haversack slung over its back, it's hitting the trail with a spring in its step, and whistling a made-up tune. It'll take time to stop and smell the flowers, admire the views, and perhaps even pick a berry or two; somewhere about the end of September, Fall will rush past on its ten-speed, head down to break the wind, as it speeds North to deliver its messenger bag full of brown leaves and pumpkin seeds.

Then, round about early November, Summer will spot a wheelbarrow-laden Winter approaching in the distance, slogging along through the muck and mud, tattered, wind-sprung umbrella draped over one arm, shaking the wet from its beard like a dog just after swimming. Summer will tip its wide-brimmed Panama hat in greeting, while Winter will simply nod in response, burdened down with effort of pushing its cart-load of gray wool felt clouds, and the sloshing buckets of precipitation in which it intends to soak them. They don't need to speak much; they've crossed paths more times than they can count, and by now the conversation has been distilled to a few looks, nods and the barest grunt of a greeting, like two shift-men passing through the factory gate.

"Morning Ralph."

"Mornin' Sam."

Yep, just about time for Summer to punch-out and Winter to punch-in.

But, before they do, there's time for one more cup of coffee - which thankfully, has just arrived.

Posted byCOMTE on 9:42 AM

0 Scurvy Dogs Have Gathered 'Round The Scuttle Butt

This page is powered by Blogger. Why isn't yours?