Sunday, April 30, 2006

You just can't trust the weatherman these days


Yesterday, Mrs. Pirate had me out in the backyard watering all the newly planted veggies and flowers so they wouldn't scorch in the sun while we were at a track meet in the afternoon. Here I was in a T-shirt and shorts watering away and kicking the volleyball across the yard so the lab and Alpha Schnauzer could tear more holes into and soaking up the rays. Then from her throne she yells out, "You better hurry up its 10:30 and we need to get up to St. Helens by noon".

From all directions all you could see was blue sky and the promise of another 82 degree day like the day before. I got a couple of items for the trip, my book (The Amber Room), my reading glasses, my shades and a hat, and some sun screen. This was the type of weekend track meets I like. An invitational where several of the top ranked boys and girls would be competing with each other and a lot of sun. I invisioned my fat Pirate butt, bsking in the sun, eating a sausage dog or two and slapping back plenty of cold soda for the day. Oh yeah, and playing track dad the second to track mom. A no brainer and a perfect way to spend the Saturday. Almost as good as a day of rest in the backyard on a Sunday but with entertainment.

As we drove north on I-5, through Portland and then along the Columbia River to the little berg, St. Helens, I noticed some clouds gathering to the west. They appeared somewhat threatening but I being too darn confident in the wrong times thought they would just blow over. How wrong could I have been?

Dead wrong. And so was the weatherman. It didn't take long for the clouds to find the track meet and the gathering of people in their shorts and T-shirts. Then came the wind followed by downpour. Tents covering various booths were blowing from their stakes and tumbling along the field. The flags that graced the track were flapping violently as if to warn folks it was going to get worse. Mrs. Pirate and myself were huddled together under a small blanket and shivering and clattering our teeth. All the North kids were huddled together desparately trying to stay warm as they waited for their own events. I beleive they were all secretly praying the whole thing would be called off so they could head for the bus. But this isn't baseball. The meet had to go one.

Our boys 4x100m blew the competition away by at least two seconds their time was :43.4. Then Jock took the 100m with plenty of room to spare at :11.1. The coached decided to scratch him out of the 200m and the 400m and make him run in the 4x400m. The 4x400m was running with a team that had not ran together at all this year. Their time was the fourth fastest in the state for the year at 3:28:02. Many of our girls broke personal records by a lot. We had several kids take the top step on the award podium. And some of parents were sent to the mental ward for being downright nuts for standing and sitting in the cold.

When there was a break in the action Mrs. Pirate and I ran over to the local Wally World and purchased all the gloves, socks and scarfs we could find and I bought myself a cheap sweatsuit. The kids couldn't have been any more pleased to don their hands with gardening gloves or white socks. Since the pickings were slim on the clearance table the scarfs were neon green and pink. The color did not sway the boys against the warmth they promised. The track meet went past 8:30 pm. The weather had dropped from 70 degrees to 41 degrees all in that time.

With some luck we have seen the last of a the freeze outs for the season. Why couldn't my kids had liked baseball? At least they have enough sense to come in from the rain.

Peace...