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Thanks, Mike.

After the Storm

All that's left of Sandy in our immediate area is rain and wind, mild wind under 40mph.  This is do-able, folks.  I haven't looked at news reports lately, but I know we were fortunate here in my town compared to the rest of the East Coast.  Haven't lost power yet, which means the sump pump continues to pump, I can reheat my coffee, and I have Internet - my connection to the rest of the world.  Life is good.

So, thank you, Universe and whatever other powers that be, for the good fortune we had.

And for the sassafras that still stands next to my house. 

Eye of the Storm

Monday, 10-29-12, 11PM, EST (US)

It is eerily quiet right now - the rain has stopped, the two wind chimes hanging from the dogwood at the back door are silent and the sump pump isn't running. 

The eye is upon us.  I don't know how long it will take to pass over, or even if it is the complete eye or just the edge.

I've been pushing water around the basement for so long that I'll be doing it in my dreams for the next week.  But, hey!  We still have power in this part of town and my brooms are holding up rather well, considering, so what am I complaining about, eh?  Not only that, but the sassafras is still standing.

New York City is dark, or large sections of it is, and the subways are flooded.  DC and Baltimore are not faring any better.  Phillie has massive flooding and property damage.  From the forecasts and weather-in-motion maps (go here to view them, if you're interested), it appears Sandy has altered her expected course and now will sweep across the entire length of Pennsylvania.  Bummer, dudes!

On the culinary front, I am celebrating this lull in the chaos with a cup of joe and some crackers with - pardon the vulgarity - tiger shit.  What,  you may well be asking yourself, is tiger s**t?!  In my case, it is peanut butter and some sugar-free strawberry jam all swirled together so that the two are streaky.  Yum, she says, voice dripping with sarcasm, breath stinking of...of...oh! - so that's why it's called that! 

Oh, crud!  I just realized that once the eye passes, the fun really begins.  The rains will be renewed, but coming from a different direction, and the winds will be stronger.  Hmmm...might lose power, after all.

While enjoying my hurricane party repast, I listened to Neil Young, one of my favorite singer-songwriters.  I was fine until "Only Love Can Break Your Heart" came on.  That song gets me every time.  He's going to be in concert in Fairfax, Virginia the day after Thanksgiving.  Would love to see him, hear him in person.

I'm rambling, I know.  Truth is, I'm at sixes and sevens, what with the storm going on outside, and the one going on within me.  This is one of those times when living alone is not as much fun as I thought it would be.  Actually, I didn't think it would be fun, exactly, but I thought it would be better than being married to someone who absolutely didn't love or want me around.  And, for the most part, it is.  Except when it feels like the world is falling apart, and I have no control over any of the scary bits, you know?  Maybe I need to get a dog.  Yeah, that's what I should do, definitely...NOT!  At least, not just yet.

Aha! the wind chime is singing again.  And there goes the wind through the trees, followed closely by the sound of rain dripping over the edge of the gutter, beating its own tattoo against the bowl of the bird bath.

Won't be long now until the sump pump starts up again.  I guess break-time is over.  Time to down the last of the coffee, put the tiger shit away and go pick up a broom.

Later, dudes!

That wasn't the eye of the hurricane - just a lull.  The eye will be here around 2 am, or so; another hour from now. 

Battening Down the Hatches

 

 

 

 

So, it begins.

 

The rains started early this morning, before the alarm woke me.  Until around 2:30 PM, EST (US), the weather wasn't anything unusual for this time of year.  We frequently have windy rainstorms in early- to mid-autumn, and this morning seemed like any other late October, early November weather system.

 

I left work about half an hour earlier than normal, to try to beat the winds that were forecast to begin around three this afternoon.  As I made my way across the back yard of the Weaver House (our office), the winds kicked up with a sudden force that nearly knocked me over.  It sucked the lift out of my umbrella and threatened to turn it inside out.  The ribs buckled and snapped, the canopy twirled like a top.  As heavy as I am, it felt as if I were being pulled skyward for a brief moment.  Mary Poppins flashed through my mind.  All I needed was Dick Van Dyke - and some cartoon penguins - and I'd've burst into song.

 

(If it weren't for my fantasy life, I'd have no life at all.)

 

When I arrived home, I could hear the sump pump running, trying to empty the basement of rainwater that had seeped in from every crack in the foundation it could find.  I know what I'm going to be doing for the next several hours.  I just ask the Universe to see to it that the power doesn't go out.  If it does, the sump pump won't run and the basement will become a swimming pool for all the spiders that live down there.  (No, Joe, I'm not going to make paper funnels to rescue them.  If they can't swim, too bad.)

 

In-landers sometimes seem (to me) to be Nervous Nellies about hurricanes.  Keep in mind, though, that I lived in New Orleans, where if Bubba Brown up the street flushed his toilet one time too often, the mayor called for emergency evacuations, that's how far below the sea level we were.  However, Pennsylvanians have survived some pretty nasty storms that even Crescent City folk would have to respect. 

 

Forecasters are suggesting that Sandy could well be as bad as Agnes, back in June of 1972.  I was with my first-Ex-Beloved and toddler daughter in California when Agnes came a-callin' on my in-laws, who were quite a few feet above sea level in beautiful Adams County.  The wind-driven rains and heavy downpours flooded basements and cellars in most of the homes there, not to mention heavy-duty property damage.  When my second ex-beloved and I bought the house I now call home, we were told how high the basement was flooded after Agnes.  That's when the sump pump was put in, and the furnace lifted from the floor onto a new concrete pad.  In fact, the entire floor to the basement was poured at that time, with a ten-degree slope laid in to facilitate the draining into the sump.

 

I am confident (I hope not overly so) that this storm will not be that bad, but I have been preparing for it, nonetheless.  In case power goes out, I have prepared some foods that require little, if any, refrigeration - boiled eggs, salads, fresh fruit and nuts for snacking - that sort of thing, nothing elaborate.  I've made a pot of coffee and some iced tea for the thermoses, and have filled a few clean water bottles.  There are fresh batteries in the five flashlights strategically placed around the house.  I brought out extra blankets to wrap up in, in case the furnace stops working.  Laundry has been washed and put away, so I have lots (!) of socks in case my toes get cold.

 

My biggest concern is the dead/dying sassafras at the side of the house.  Every time we have an 'ordinary' wind storm come through, at least two or three more branches break off, though not all of them hit the ground.  There is a slew of widow-makers hanging menacingly from the remaining limbs, draped like Snoopy-the-Vulture, in waiting for their next victims.  The deductible on my homeowners insurance is more than I can handle right now, so I'm hoping not to wake up in the morning with part of the Squirrel Highway across my bed.

 

A year ago, I'd have been freaking out about the dire possibilities this storm might bring, but having survived the year, my personal tour through the Ante-Chambers of Hell, I'm shrugging it off.

 

Either I've gotten better, or I am so deep in denial that even those ocean-trench-dwelling fishes with their own lanterns would be reluctant to visit me.

 

Whichever, I hope to be back reading your blogs before too long.

 

May the Universe look after all those in Sandy's way, as well as those of you who aren't.