"Blow, Wind, Blow . . .

. . . And go, mill, go.

That the miller may grind his corn.

So the Baker may take it,

And into bread make it,

And bring me a loaf in the morn!"

Remember that one? That's one of the nursery rhymes we used to read to our children when they were children. (And now they are HAVING children!)

I have that particular rhyme on my mind for two reasons.

First, because it's so hot and humid here (South Texas) in August and we like to play golf in the afternoon on the weekends. Plus we like to WALK the couse, not ride around in electric carts. In the absence of any (or appreciable) breeze or wind, walking soon becomes intollerable. Today I was soaked all over, couldn't keep a golf glove dry, and kept toweling my face to prevent the sweat from running into my eyes. No fun.

So I found myself reciting that rhyme.

But the second reason is because we've been watching the track of humongous Hurricane Dean across the Carribbean heading right toward Texas! (Actually, as I type this the very latest projection has Dean entering Mexico just south of Brownsville, TX, on Wednesday. That's be fine with me!) In hopes that my wishing for some wind might, in fact, cause the storm to go away, I've been chanting,

"Blow, wind, blow.

And go, storm go!

Blow yourself out where no one gets hurt

In the mountains of Mexico!"

Seems to be working. For now.