I’m still waiting for the arrival of Hurricane Henri because what we went through yesterday didn’t qualify as a significant rain storm, much less a full-fledged hurricane. It was a popcorn fart of a tempest. I guess it did have some impact along the shore but we didn’t even get minor winds, much less the forecast gales. I was a little pissed at all the time I spent moving flower pots and other Deckzilla accoutrement to save it from the absent winds. I don’t know how the forecasters could get it this wrong, but here were no apologies this morning as they focused on the small damage along the coast. I had warned the resident Panamanians that we had this massive storm bearing down upon us only to look like Chicken Little at his most hyperbolic.
My
disappointment at the lack of low pressure was more than rescued with a sudden invite
form the Neighborhood Mafioso to join them for dinner. It turned out to be one
of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had in recent memory. I can’t remember
laughing as much in one sitting as the conversation veered through a wide
variety of subjects ranging from the Beatles to 1960s television shows and
1960s music. I made a couple of huge faux pas, claiming George Harrison wrote
Knock, Knock, Knocking on Heaven’s Door, confusing it with My Sweet Lord. This
was especially grievous since I was a huge fan of Bob Dylan. I rescued my
wounded pride by leading a rendition of Lay Lady Lay. 
The Fun Group Last Night
My
second social blunder involved my use of Spanish profanity. One of the fellow
guests is a well-known jokester and was famous within the group for discovering
a Spanish wine named after posteriors. With the intake of beer, my confidence
in Spanish soars, sometimes beyond the bounds of common sense and I used the wrong
word to describe the wine. Unfortunately there was only one other person in the
group who didn’t understand Spanish. My mother-in-law seemed especially shocked
to hear my description. I entered into a beer laden conspiracy with the husband
of the Neighborhood Mafioso. My Favorite Panamanian keeps a close eye on my
beer consumption during our visits there and my host decided we needed to
smuggle a couple extra by the intense scrutiny. It turned into a fun game with
the other guests watching amusedly as empties were surreptitiously replaced
with full ones. I don’t think my wife was fooled that much but it was fun game
while it lasted. The same could be said spending time with these more than excellent
people.
Late Arriving Photo from Saturday
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RECURRING CHARACTERS
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