Who'll Stop the Rain?

Next Swims:
Sunday @ Noon
Mon - Thu @ 6ish am and 6 pm, Friday @ 6ish am and 5:30 pm

Last Swim: 
Saturday 9/21 @ Noon
Water Temp:  54 per itch-o-meter
Waves: 4-6" swells at very regular intervals
Clarity:  Decent, 2/3 out of 10, could see bottom
Kru:  Mr. Bubble, Patriarch, Forger, Scooby, Itch, Laguna, Handyman Hank, Magic Mike, Diablo, Cool Hand Luke (near shore support)
Shore Support:  Northshore Nancy (NNN<60), Laguna's family

So, upon arrival, there was much optimism, based on reported conditions from yesterday - 65!  Somehow the early arrivals have developed a non-empirical consensus that today's temp at Klode is 59 (Atwater buoy?)  Northshore Nancy is busy putting on her suit and swim cap. 

Itch approaches the water carrying the itch-o-meter of truth, and he reports out a different number - 54!  Itch uses his hand signals to convey this measurement, and a debate ensues about how to correctly interpret these hand signals.  Several people contend that the hand signals meant 59, confirming their earlier consensus and heartfelt hope.  Itch attempting to educate the wishful thinkers,  "This is what 59 looks like, this is what 54 looks like and this is what 44 looks like".  Northshore Nancy ends the debate by wading in, before she's finished putting on her wetsuit, and declaring - "This is NOT 59!".  She starts taking off her wetsuit - 54 is a triple N; a "Northshore Nancy No". 

While I'm out swimming, thought going through my head is that thunderstorms are predicted to start at 1:30.  What if the thunderstorm arrives earlier?  What if I'm not out of the water yet?  Who'll Stop the Rain?  Someone with superhuman powers must have read my mind.  Shortly after we all make it back, small drops have started to fall infrequently.  The frequency increases a little bit during the bike ride back, but it's still just a light drizzle, not an all out rain. 

While we're making our toast, I announce that the Equinox is on Monday - this news is not well received - "It's not Monday!"  Ah, but once again, the moving finger, having writ, moves on.  No matter what, the sun will come out tomorrow

The sun'll come out tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on'til tomorrow
Come what may

Tomorrow tomorrow
I love ya
Tomorrow

You're always a day a way