what makes a clam happy?

In a quite violent electrical display, the rain has passed on to the east, but severe lightning still flashing south of 7H above and out over the Gulf of Mexico. Someone at Mexico Beach, Port St Joe and beyond is in for it while here quiet comes. An adventure of life here is experiencing these summer thunderstorms, even sometimes inside them but feeling reasonably safe.

Knock wood and wishing you long years, eh?

4:52 AM Wednesday June 21.

What IS safe? IDK why, but I read a lot and on line watch a lot inside World War Two, where life is anything but Safe. Even here, at Cove School, we had air raid drills, long tables lining the center of the hall, and when the air raid bell rang, we trekked out of classroom into the hall and crawled under the tables. Some still living will remember that. Robert and Carl. Some I miss still sharing life and memories with.

With lots of luck, you'll get here too. Luck including, certainly in my case, friends and colleagues who cared even enough to - - leaving in a jet plane - don't know when I'll be back again ...

Hot & black coffee and - - oh, a ship going out, let's see if I can get a decent picture in the dawning

and with the storm lighting up in the distance behind her.

Appears to be one of the ships that ply between here and Progreso with cargo containers loaded topside. The first movement, what caught my eye, was a fast moving light, obviously the pilot boat zipping straight south, to meet her three miles out while the ship heads east past 7H, makes her turn, and heads west and south for the Pass. I would not care to live the life of a harbor pilot. He's at nature's mercy, although it's always his call whether to take a ship out in this weather, or it's safe enough to brave the sea state three miles out. Ships arriving and leaving must have a pilot, and if he says "No" it don't nobody go nowhere. Nowheres. No-whurrzz

++++++++

What? Something about Wednesday, a day with nothing on calendar until an exchange of emails and now a closest friend coming over for Jameson's and steamed shrimp after work today.

Wednesday 5:28 AM now, the Bay is shiny gleaming silver gray and smooth flat as the pancake that always seems to serve as our simile. Flat as a pancake. Bald as a billiard. Dumb as a rock. Deaf as a post. Blind as a bat. Naked as a jaybird. Fast as a speeding bullet. Quick as lightning. Calm as a cucumber. Innocent as a babe. Sharp as a tack. Gray as a ghost. Smooth as a baby's butt. White as a sheet. Busy as a bee. Black as midnight. Sick as a dog. Quiet as a church mouse. Slow as Christmas. Mean as a snake. Drunk as a lord. Pretty as a picture. Clean as a whistle. Big as a house. Ugly as sin. Tight as a tick. Heavy as lead. Cute as a kitten. Light as a feather. Mean as hell. Hot as hell. Slept like a log. Smooth as silk. The sleep of the dead. Happy as a lark. Happy as a clam.

6:23 and here comes the pilot boat with her red hull and white marking on the side, returning with the pilot.

RSF&PTL