Planned unplanned time. Yar.

Avast and shiver me timbers, September be slippin’ away. We be facing yet o’nother National Talk Like A Pirate Day in a few wee hours, so I thought I’d start a practicin’

The fair port ‘o Santa Cruz has seen many a visitor in the last fortnight. The scurvy knaves, Sarah and Stephanie, came down from the afar isle o’ Berkeley, and we played at the beach,

(No fun at the beach or ye'll walk the plank!)

threw the discs, (Aye, a confusing hole. No one found the refrigerator)

ate up greek food and ran obstacle courses on the playground. All trainin’ fer bein’ a buccaneer.

Q: How much does a pirate pay for corn?
A: A Buccaneer!

And the next weekend, the landlubbin’ parents (what is pirate for parent?) sailed through, and we ate,

(Yar, the mighty Cap'n Snell with his most fearsome weapon, the veggie peeler)

paddled the mighty seas in search o’ the birds,

(The swarthy birders debate)

and they went home with plenty ‘o Santa Cruz' finest booty (and a bottle of rum). Yar. Much swashbuckling done by all, and no one had to walk the plank.

Q: What does a pirate say on his 80th birthday?
A: Aye matey…..