Talking 'bout the Weather

I have now finished rewriting Matthew (Gezundeit!), Mark (Mywords), Revelation (T cornpone)and am ready to start on Luke (Warm). Big Fun. First though, I have to finish a space epic I began yesterday, tentatively entitled "Blood Raiders", for this month's Writer's Group assignment. Also Big Fun.

Weather here in the Palo Alto (Tall Stick) section of Boquete continues to be, in my less than humble opinion, ah, what's the right word?, I know, crappy. We are getting more sunshine of late but it is usually accompanied by wind and that is often accompanied by "bajareque" the lovely Panamanian word for mountain mist which is in itself a lovely term. All that loveliness, though, just obscures the fact that bajareque is effing rain, you know, the stuff that makes you wet...and cold. I try to remind myself that climate conditions have improved greatly from recent weeks, but I know that is like saying this new kick in the shins is better than last month's kick in the groin. It gives me no solace. Still...I'm not complaining, I'm not complaining,...the hell I'm not. But then, somebody has to.

The reason for my sudden disaffection with all things afuera (outside)is clearly Tiger Woods. He made a reappearance on my television screen yesterday playing golf in splendid weather. Never was he pictured grabbing his hat to keep it from blowing off or discovered squinting into sideways rain. This, clearly, is what millions of dollars can do for you; buy good weather. (The shots of the golf course taken from a blimp above show a parched desert with 18 patches of non indigenous green. That green, for those who don't know, is money.)

Okay, I admit it. My complaining is "tongue-in-cheek" - a thing that makes talking coherently impossible - and weather conditions here, compared to where you are, are "not that bad." "Not that bad" though, and paradise can't be used in the same context. Paradise excludes "not that bad." Henceforth I will desist from calling Boquete paradise until the wind becomes a gentle breeze, the rain ceases to fall, the sun shines in a cloudless sky and temperatures hover in the seventies. In other words, when I next play golf.

I'm jonesing real bad.