Jet Ski Nationals on the beach this weekend

paid the longrooffan a visit Saturday after work.....lots of noise coming thru the front door of the Taj Mahal as we sit and enjoy good company....race week is a short distance away and I ignore it as just part of the environment....the Rolex series as been practicing and I hear it from work everyday....so loud engine noises are drowned out in my daily life.....later I came to learn that the Jet Ski Nationals were taking place on our very own beach....after getting home I quickly fired up the old 2A and placed a call back to the longrooffan and inquired as to his availability to join me on a short drive down the beach.....picked him up and off we were.....once again he FAILED in the photo department....guess this will be a Memorex moment as we have it committed to memory.....couple of passes down the beach and a short viewing of the activities of the event and the decison was obvious....there were way too many skiers to concentrate on a conclusive winner......then the ever present Beach Patrol drove by and offered to trade vehicles....his brand new F-150 4x4 for my old trusty Jeep.....maybe last week....the heated seats in the 2A don't work so good....had to decline his offer as the longroooffan was in a hurry to get back to the Taj Mahal.
which leads me to today's adventure.....the kid's sister and I took off for the ocal recreational center to shoot some hoops before the daily football games began....
about an hour and a half into the forced exercise ( I watched as she played in a pickup game ) I was off to enjoy the first of two televised football games......
swung by the longroof's place first for a quick cold pop and walked into what could be called a 'federal disaster zone...seems the longrooffan decided it was time to 'shake things up abit' and clean house.....I am sure there is a blog in this for him and I won't go much further here.....other than to say that there wasn't much room in his place for one person....much less two.......made a quick exit....ok, maybe not so quick, two beers and a smoke....but man that place kept getting smaller and smaller as long as I stayed there.....exited via the 'World's Most Famous Beach' and saw some of the most extreme jet ski operators ever...
and the sungoddess thought I went to extremes......a couple of reverese flips.....several barrel rolls.....more ten to twenty foot launches off breakers.....
and the sounds could be associated more with the circle track 4 miles west than with the more common place watercraft normally navigating the waterways of the greater Halifax Basin....
all and all a great weekend Celebrating Life....

This just about sums it up......

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,

where the cotton blooms and blows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole,

God only knows.

He was always cold,

but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold!

through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;

It wasn't much fun,

but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow, And the dogs were fed,

and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,

He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;

And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;

then he says with a sort of moan:

"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold,

till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet 'tain't being dead — it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

And we started on at the streak of dawn;

but God! he looked ghastly pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee; And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death,

and I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,

because of a promise given;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:

"You may tax your brawn and brains,

But you promised true, and it's up to you,

to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,

and the trail has its own stern code.

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb,

in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,

while the huskies, round in a ring,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows —

Oh God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,

but I swore I would not give in;

And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,

and a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May." And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared — such a blaze you seldom see; And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,

and the wind began to blow.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks,

and I don't know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.

I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ...

then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,

in the heart of the furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and said:

"Please close that door.

It's fine in here, but I greatly fear, you'll let in the cold and storm —

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.

thanks Bear for making us learn this as children......

It was 3 feet deep........

While I am very much aware that the majority of the readers of this space are currently enjoying 'Global Warming' at it's extreme......we here in the Sunshine State are experiencing our own version......the top picture is taken in the wonderful state of Nebraska.......the second and third photos are taken in MY FRONT YARD.........GLOBAL WARMING, MY ASS......I'm waiting for Al Gore to show up and explain this to me as I compose these lines.....in the mean time, the sungoddess and the kid and the kid's sister are curled up in front of a roaring fire......25 tonight and as the longrooffan said, my thermometer is sick.....

Amen.....

In conclusion....