...seriously. I don't know what it is about this place, but every time we get here, I get the worst itchy red eyes. Drives me nuts. There are so many chemical plants and refiners belching nasty stuff into the sky that it's no wonder, I suppose.
It got wicked hot in our ride through the Gulf of Mexico. For 2 1/2 days I was swimming in ball soup 30 minutes after starting work. And, to my chagrin, my schedule hasn't been conducive to working out some celestial fixes on the ride down. This was my week to be a dayworker, and the skies were a tad murky for what I needed. Dammit.
We're going to be a floating pharmacy for a while, doling out little parcels of cargo here and there, according to rumors. This should take us into November, anyhow, and there's a further rumor of a port call in Savanah, which I'm stoked for. Savannah is my favorite port on the East/Gulf Coasts. The city itself has a very european architectural appearance reminiscent of the neighborhoods just downhill from the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, the old city surrounding the Castle, and for a time, one of my regular hangouts when I was living in Scotland. It's hard to believe that it's been 11 years since I came home. I still reminisce with my brother's Mother-In-Law, herself a proud Scot from Glasgow.
Anyhow, as you know, rumors can be found between Rhumatism and Shit in Webster's dictionary, so there's no use delving further into speculating on our next ports-of-call. I'll be happy to be out of the Gulf in a timely manner, of course.
I Never Knew She Could Sing So Well
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