What's The Dill?

People in Seattle have a love/hate relationship with the giant orange flaming ball in the sky. For most of the year it remains hidden by a dense layer of grey clouds. I am willing to argue that it does not rain in Seattle as much as people think though it does rain a lot. Weather reporting in the Emerald City is the art of figuring out different ways to declare that it will be in the 40’s, most likely rain, and cloudy. For example: cloudy with a chance of showers, rain at times, rain, scattered showers, chance of sprinkles, soggy paws (the pet walk forecast on Q13 Fox), etc.

When there is speculation that the flaming orange ball might make an appearance an instant buzz flows from the Pacific to the Cascades. People clamor at the water cooler and talk about what they are going to do on the weekend. When it actually happens the humans flow out onto the streets like zombies, shielding their eyes. Shorts and t-shirts reveal pasty legs and arms that haven’t seen the sun for many moons. Everyone goes outside.

The excitement diminishes as the temperature rises and slapped with nasty tan lines and painful burns the people of Seattle cry out in unison, “It’s too hot!” We damn the flaming ball and beg for it to leave. When it disappears we miss it and beg for its return. As I mentioned, the relationship is volatile.

Yesterday was like nothing anyone had ever seen. The previous record temperature recorded at Sea-Tac airport was 100 degrees in 1994. Yesterday it hit 102 and officially became the hottest day in Seattle history. Wait lists for air conditioners at hardware stores are hundreds of people deep and fan sections of stores have been ravaged and only dusty shelves remain.

The temperature peaked at 104 in the town where I live and our condo feels like the Earth’s core. It’s hot, miserable, and I’m worried that the people of Seattle’s brains will soon melt. It's quite possible that those with AC will be the target of a heat-stroke induced blitzkrieg of AC-less Seattleites wielding umbrellas with tips carved into shanks.

If I don’t write another post by Sunday it’s safe to assume that I didn’t survive. Make sure to come back to figure out if I’m alive and blogging or if I have incinerated and am a pile of ashes!

(Image source: http://z.about.com/d/space/1/5/Y/Q/sun_tour.jpg)

I suppose I should get started by introducing myself.

I have no clue where my parents got my name. I recall asking them at one time but am unable to think of the result of that conversation. I considered asking them before writing this but ultimately decided it would detract from the purpose. So, we’ll go no more a roving. Well, perhaps I’ll Google it.

Lord Byron. By far the most prevalent in the search results. My father doesn’t strike me as one for British Romanticism. Must have been my mother.

Byron Wine. Estate bottled and produced. Their site has an “Inside Byron” link which could be helpful. Apparently Santa Barbara was once considered too cold and too windy for grapes but on the Byron Estate they persevered! Their Pinots and Chardonnays are praised for their character, depth, and honesty.

Byron Fuels. If you’re in need of Rotor Rage advanced competition helicopter fuel they’ve got it. According to their website if swallowed one should contact the Poison Control Center. Apparently enough people have consumed Rotor Rage that it is necessary to put the disclaimer on the home page. Concerning.

Byron L. Dorgan. United States Senator, North Dakota. Not terribly impressive but at least there’s another “famous” Byron to add to the list. There’s also Byron Nelson the golfer and
Byron Scott, a former NBA player and current coach of the New Orleans Hornets whom I’ve met. I was working at a golf course and wearing a name tag when I met him and he smiled and shook my hand.

Byronmn.com. The official website for the city of Byron, Minnesota. I know someone who is a General Manager at a country club in Byron, MN. Oddly enough, I worked with him at the golf course where I once met Byron Scott. There are also cities of Byron in Michigan, Illinois, Wyoming, and New York.

Byron Proper Hamburgers. 100% grass fed Aberdeen Angus beef from Scotland which is ground daily from select cuts of rump, chuck, and brisket. Yum.

So as you can see, it is entirely possible my name came from a variety of things. Or perhaps my parents thought Jordan (my brother) and Byron went well together. At any rate, I’d like to someday have a Byron Proper Hamburger and a glass of Byron Pinot in the city of Byron somewhere. In such a case the phrase “you are what you eat” could not be any more applicable. I’ll be sure to stay away from the Byron Fuels Rotor Rage though.

Welcome to What's the Dill? This is my first venture into the realm of blogging so we'll see what happens... Thanks for visiting!

"There's no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going
There's no knowing where we're rowing
Or which way the river's flowing..."

The Rowing Song
By: Roald Dahl