The big news around here this week was Hurricane Earl. Like a good New Englander, I went out to get eggs, milk, and bread in case I had a sudden need to make French Toast. I put down the storm windows and closed my apartment up tight. But Earl was no match for our cold, cold water. He fizzled out halfway up the coast and we barely even got any rain.
Earl's biggest effect has been heavy surf and rip currents. Apparently, local surfers are upset because beaches are closed and they are not being allowed to get out there and yell "Cowabunga!" right before being sucked under to their deaths. Wow, dude, the government is being so mean by not allowing them all to become like birds flying into plate-glass windows.
Can you believe I live a mere ten-minute walk from this very spot? Neither can I, and it's been four years now. It doesn't look like I was in a safe place when I took this picture, but I was, I promise. I have no intention of being a victim of Darwinism.
As I said, Earl didn't have much oomph left by the time he got to 41 degrees north, but he did manage to give us a couple of periods of heavy rain during the day yesterday. Which gave me the opportunity to premiere my adorable new rain boots I got for 12 bucks at Walmart. So that was something.