Shelter From the Storm

The New York Times (herald of all things urbane and seminal) is calling the gathering disturbance out Moveitfred's window perhaps "the worst storm since 1992." Right now it's just rainin', but apparently several forces of great resolve are synchronizing into a potential catastrophe of historical proportions. In preparation for all this, Moveitfred ran out of the house this morning and down to the local Fourbucks to get himself a to-the-top venti house blend. No cow, no crystals--just straight up black brew. Moveitfred recommends all y'all take it stiff, soupy, and black.

All of this talk of "worst storm since '92" reminds Moveitfred that he was not privy to this last early 90's right coast disaster as he was living out his halcyon days on the left coast, schooling the young Heywood Jablome on the art of the full-throated, celebratory life and basking in the glow of Newport Beach sunsets. Then, in a turn of fate, Moveitfred accepted a position as the new kid in an aging right-coast factory operation in need of a young mind to propel the assembly line into the 21st Century. In time Moveitfred met the perplexing Al Bangorhard, and nothing has been the same since.

Why all this reflective meandering this morning? Boredom, really. Mrs. Moveitfred and Moveitfred's daughter are away west of these parts at a county swim meet where Moveitfred's daughter is undoubtedly schooling the others in her age group in the 50 Breast. Moveitfred's son is intent on assembling a new bow and arrow project in the other room. And Moveitfred...well, he's content nursing his black brew, watching the gathering storm out the window, and posting just a few choice bits of tail to remind him of those warm, glorious Cali days of old.