I just don't listen.
I thought all the talk about the Red Tide was because 'Bama was in town. Everywhere. In front of MY car. Slacking and yakking and driving pitifully because they don't know where their GPS is pointing to. They swerve and dodge the locals as they talk on their phones or argue with their navigator.
Anyway, my favorite weatherman at Fresh Bilge sent a warning flare my way about today. Wind and waves? I've seen 'em. High tides? I lived through Frances, thank you.
But just an hour ago, PepperDog and I went to Porpoise Point. Besides the fact that I couldn't open my car door against the nor'easter winds--seriously--the towering waves and whitecaps extended as far as I could see. The seaweed on the beach was knee-deep, and jagged troughs were cut into to shore making steep banks on an already steep beach.
We walked down anyway, happy to be outside. Hmmm....dead fish, aw, so pretty, too. Another, and another. Some folks were swimming, but Pepper and I trudged through sand that had lost all structural integrity, giving way beneath each step. We went maybe a quarter of a mile with the wind to our backs, near the shore so our skin wouldn't be flayed from our bones by the sand. We saw the local news photographer out there, taking pics of dead fishies.
"Stay out of the water," he offers. "Red Tide."
"Yeah, I see it's drifted south, then," I counter.
"Yes, and it's starting to hurt my eyes and nose," he says.
We decide to turn back, into the fury of the sunny windstorm of ocean moisture. Within two minutes both the dog and I are coughing and gagging from the salt and the Red Tide's influence. Weird. We sputter our way back to the car. Poor doggie dear has tears running from her eyes! I look in the mirror and see a real Ghost Story! I look no better. I'm still coughing, my lungs, eyes, and nose still burn.
Think I'll stay in for the rest of the week. Ack!
I console myself knowing that I have my own weather forecaster, who also happens to be an excellent writer. Thanks, Alan!
Sep 29, 2007
I just don't listen.