Tag Archives: Rubber Duck
Let it be known that on this day, December Seventh, 2013 that Father Christmas, Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas, or simply, as the chorus of small children who lined the jetties and docks of Rockport, Massachusetts exclaimed, “Santa!, It’s Santa Claus!” , came to town.
This jaded reporter who has been numbed by the commercialization of Christmas, the War on Christmas, the War on the War on Christmas, the Black Friday mobs rushing the Best Buys and Walmarts to claw at presents that are supposed to assure the winner a gob of Christmas cheer, finds himself on Tuna Wharf in Rockport recharging his Christmas cheer batteries with the true meaning of Christmas. Little kids screaming their heads off as Santa rides the Freemantle Doctor into the harbor.
And not to take anything away from Santa as his job on Christmas is a huge one but this year I would like to point out the Rockport Santa production would be nothing if it wasn’t for all the elves who do all the hard work getting Santa in the right spot at the right time. Who would light the tree in Dock Square if Santa were still sitting out on a buoy off Jefferys Basin? So without further ado, just a few of the elves who made the Rockport Santa production possible:
Santa pays these elves squat but they all went home with something more important than presents or money or even the hot cider and doughnuts and everything else that people were enjoying over in Dock Square as they were hard at work in the cold and wind making sure that Santa made it to ride the fire truck into the Square. They boated home in the dark with the warm feeling in their hearts that only a cheering throng of children can bestow, Christmas Cheer. Even the Rubber Duck got a little emotional but I promised her I would post no photos of her blubbering.
-Paul Morrison and Rubber Duck
Rubber Dock got this whole Lobster Trap Christmas Tree done in ten minutes this weekend. Spent three minutes on Saturday and seven minutes on Sunday. Hard work and still made it to the Patriots kick off.
RD:”I am pretty sure this is not how you make Turduckin.”
Someone is twisting Rubber Duck’s little rubber wing to post a story about bringing her boat up from Woods Hole to Gloucester.
Arrived 11:30 AM, 93 miles, four hour trip. Take home: This is an easy trip if you can pick your day. It’s all about the wind. Having VHF and a paid up SeaTow membership (the triple A of the water) helped too. The boat is faded blue. Rubber Duck is christening it “Blue Duck”.
“Blue Duck request opening Blynman Bridge.” Went out for a spin on Saturday up the Annisquam then over to Rockport and Straitsmouth Island. Flat calm tried out the 225HP Suzuki topped out at 30.9 knots, 35 mph. Dialed back to 22 knots, a nice cruising speed.
Rolling rally Saturday. Wake up on Sunday with a hangover. Day of rest. Now what do you do? By Monday there are 108 days left until pitchers and catchers report to spring training. What is it about that number? It happens to be the number of Red Sox wins in 2013. So.
NESN, please play in sequence each winning game at midnight (maybe even the shortened Sox in 2) each night for 108 days. Then the next day, winter is over and Salty is welcoming the pitchers into camp.
Works for Rubber Duck. Rubber Duck hates surprise endings. She loves watching the Sox when she knows they are going to win. Even those 21 walk offs. It will warm your heart in the midst of a cold and dark winter.
That Rubber Duck is too small. To get a gigantic Rubber Duck to our shores please “like” the Facebook Page, “Bring the Rubber Duck to Gloucester Harbor“. We need that page liked at least one hundred more times before we can submit a gigantic rubber duck request.
4 more wins.
You never know until you try. Rubber Duck and Homie want to see the giant Rubber Duck in Gloucester Harbor so they have set up a Facebook Page to collect “likes”. If we get a few thousand “likes” then maybe we try to convince the caretakers of the Rubber Duck that the next east coast visit should be in Gloucester. If you watch the Pirates and the Reds play the National League Wild Card game tomorrow night you might catch a glimpse of Giant Rubber Duck outside PNC Park in Pittsburgh. She will be there for the next several weeks.
Imagine this photo below is the A. Piatt Andrew Bridge. Now go and “like” the page. Tell your friends. We need thousands of likes before we can ask the Rubber Duck to make the trip.
Live blogging of the Rubber Duck in Pittsburgh! The Pirates and the Reds are fighting it out this weekend for home field advantage. Pirates win and the Rubber Duck will be outside the stadium on Tuesday looking in watching the NL wild card game since she is 54 feet tall!
I wanted to make sure I could catch the Red Sox clinch the playoffs so off to Topside Grill with the bar upstairs in case dinner runs too long. Dining downstairs I forgot about the game once the mussels arrived but I only missed the first inning. (Lester was awesome, Sox win the division just like 2007!)
I’ve got weird rules for eating out. I hate it when two people order the same thing, what if it is subpar now you’re stuck with two! Never get the shark, it can be weird, stay away from pasta, shoot, pasta is always better at home.
Broke all my rules, glad we did. The Mako Shark Bites were perfect. I almost ordered them again for dessert. The mussels app was also excellent. I’ll stop saying excellent now because everything was. Two entrees of sautéed shrimp over linguini. So why was everything so good? Everything was fresh down to the tomatoes in the sautéed shrimp. The shrimp and linguini made the best breakfast cold this morning.
I should really work on getting a photo before we destroy the beautiful looking dishes.
Tomorrow I will post “The Picture of the Week” that was framed in the bathroom at Topside. Rubber Duck thought it was pretty funny. She screamed “Cuz, you don’t look so good!”
The record shows that eleven years ago today the first Talk Like a Pirate Day occurred.
And it was 121 years ago today in 1892, on the front page of the Gloucester Daily Times, the North Shore paper of record, reported that the last words of James Merry when he be gored by a bull in Dogtown the day before were, “Arrgh!” and “Arrrgh?”
Coincidence? Or did the madness begin in the Curtis pasture with Patrick Nugent’s bull on yonder drumlin in 1892?