Revelation

What? Me? Stress??

Well, sometimes. Like, for example, whenever three-dimensional time-space is perceptibly moving forward...

But occasionally I hit a moment when I have sighed my most exasperating sigh, when I have had it up to here, when if the S has yet to HTF I'm on a rampage looking for methods to aide the damned thing along...

And then in a moment whence the deepest breath comes, and we remind ourselves that ONE MORE CYCLE OF SEASONS HERE is all We need, and We'll get through those one Day, Hour Minute and Second of the Time...

And Epiphany. The reason, the True underlying Unconscious reason for all the stress of late comes to Light.

No, not that I/you/we couldn't think of anything all morning-- ok, all afternoon, too; so all day, essentially, would be correct-- except how HER valentines day should have gone, WOULD have gone, had Skipper stood aside and let a man take the helm for 48 or so...

And no, also not the fact that job doldrums are setting in after only six weeks on site. Generally takes...well, honestly, we're right on schedule there...

Anyhow, none of that, I now realize, is why I be stressin'...

Here She Is:

I am forty-five minutes from Galveston Island, Texas Gulf Coast.
it's Late Winter, approaching Spring.

This indicates an eventual approaching Summer.

Which means storms, A' La' Ike. And Gustav.

"Blow me, Ike! Hey G-Meister! Huff And Puff! Blow THIS Away!!!"

["achemm.." looks shyly about..] "Sorry. I digress."

An approaching summer, and Her inevitable Storms.

And me out of shape, and sans so much as even a longboard presently...

Time to wax up and get pounded or hang ten...

More Soon! Slainte!

Cygnus