Day 1 - Supposed to have a hurricane by next week. Jacksonville mayor says prepare now. Not sure what to do. Fill water bottles? Have a shower? Replenish liquor cabinet? Decide to take the dog for walk. Then think about panicking.
Day 2 - Pace around house, look for things to do. Dust the piano, fix the blind in bedroom, do laundry. Start sorting things. Wait for Fay. Supposed to be tropical storm strength when she gets to Jacksonville. TV weathermen tout their Doppler radar reading skills. "We've got DOUBLE DOPPLER RADAR and we know how to use it!"
Day 3 - Fay stalls south of Jacksonville. Watch the news, track the storm online and start to feel a tiny bit anxious. Open bag of Doritos. Think it's good these storms are spaced out every few weeks or I'd be a blimp by November. Give kids permission to eat Pop Tarts even though they're technically part of storm food stockpile. Realize if I didn't have a wholesale club membership, I'd probably go broke buying snack food. Review new vocabulary words: maximum sustained wind gusts, wind shear, category I, category II, tropical storm, tropical depression.
TV weatherman predicts if storm breaks up then the worst we get will be rain bands. Doesn't sound terrible. Think seriously of getting a DC to AC converter for the car to power the fridge. Slap myself and try to remember that this is an adventure. Stare at Doppler radar. Try to see a pattern in the waves of blue, green, yellow and orange. News anchor announces, "No school tomorrow or the day after. Keep the kids home to help prepare for the storm."
Moved everything close to the house last week and now it looks like none of it will have to come indoors. No room for it anyway. Think about starting a window painting. Haven't gone for a walk or a run in three days. Start to feel fat.
Read through the messages on internet forum. They're equally divided between panicked newbies trying to get definitive answers to the question, "If it's coming, how scared should I be?" and relaxed veterans who shrug their shoulders and reminisce about storms gone by, "Remember 2004? That was the year from hurricane hell!"
Day 4 - Make repeated trips to the computer to check www.weatherunderground.com. Stare at storm tracking and 5-day forecast screens and play the satellite animations over and over again. Wonder why they don't update them every fifteen minutes instead of just eight times per day. Think about installing storm shutters, remember I don't have any. Wonder if it's too late to go get plywood from Lowe's. Eat rest of Doritos. Lay in bed, listen to crickets and cicadas, sure it's one of the warning signs of a huge hurricane in the book, "Their Eyes Were Watching God," that I read last year.
Day 5 - Move all non-perishable food items into the dining room. Only room in the house that doesn't have windows. If roof blows off we'll have food at least. Need water jugs there, too, and a bucket with a garbage bag and kitty litter in case we can't get to the toilet. Where do I put the mattresses? Go looking for bag of ranch flavored Doritos. Make mental note to save nacho cheese flavored Doritos for last next time. Marvel that storms are so big that they take days to move just a few miles.
Day 6 - Stare outside at trees for signs of incipient blowage. Wonder if the line of pines on the east side of the house will act as a wind break to prevent riding lawnmower from being picked up like a child's toy and whipped into the neighbor's house or if they'll just fall over and crush everything in their path. Look up how to calculate height of the tree using yard stick and protractor to see if it could hit house. Check weatherunderground.com again.
Start making dish rags from old athletic socks. Decide to throw socks away instead after realizing that I'd be too embarrassed to use them. Clean some more. Realize that if storm drags on much longer I'll have cleared off every available surface in my house just in time for it to float away.
Cut up old blue jeans to make hurricane afghan, consisting of small squares with spirals embroidered on them. Add designs of swirling clouds, crashing waves, Doritos. Wish I had more chips. Wonder if it would be completely tacky to call neighbor to see if she has any. Notice that spirals have fewer coils the more embroidering I do. Wonder if this means I'm feeling more relaxed. Use up last of white embroidery floss and think seriously about going out during a lull to see if any craft stores are open. Picture self getting tased by cop for being stupid.
Start painting a window. Listen to weather man predict more rain, more flooding for today and tomorrow. Admire dexterity of person performing sign language next to the governor while he talks about what to do and what not to do. Notice there is no sign for "utilize" and "impacted."
Get phone call from neighbor that "There's a tornado headed straight for us." Gather children and dog and huddle on futon mattress in hallway. Listen to radio weatherman talk about bands of color on Doppler radar that only he can see. Decide the whole thing is ridiculous. Wait until five minutes before official end of warning issued by national weather service and then disperse. Lose power for long enough to find and light two oil lamps and four candles. Listen to someone's generator running a block away. Congratulate myself on not buying one.
Day 7 - Fay gone like she never existed. Air is liquid and warm. No standing water in the yard, even. Put on running shoes, leash the dog and go out to take our chances. While out of house review lessons learned over past week: Buy less snack food, stock up on craft supplies, turn off television, read more books, panic less, breathe more.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
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