Hurricane Daze–Thinking of y’all and sending positive vibes

It’s pretty frightening to see that hurricane and hear the weather people’s predictions. The FOX weatherman said, “I’ve never seen these computer models all agree like this, and they’re better than ever at predicting now.” They all seem convinced that Goodnight, Irene will make landfall and cause a real mess. All the way up to NYC, they fear.

Wow. I’m thinking of you all and sending you good wishes. I remember when Carla and then Camille hit the Gulf coast when we lived in Houston. Daddy boarded up the huge windows in our Midcentury Modern contemporary. Rain beat down on us sideways as he finished up the “securing” of the place. We evacuated. It was really an experience for a little kid. I hope this one fizzles out like the other one did. You don’t even really need the rain!

My neighbor’s child said today, “I heard that people are going to shelters for the hurricane time.”

“That’s right,” she replied absently, working on the sprinkler head that her mowing people had run over and crunched. I was outside trying to figure out if any of our sprinkler heads had been affected on our property line. (This was a new guy . . . don’t know what he was doing to break a sprinkler head.)


“They can’t stay in their houses. It’s too dangerous.”

“Why don’t they just go to the Holiday Inn Express? The pool is so awesome! It’s so fun!”

She smiled at him. “They can’t afford that.”

“They can just put it on the credit card!”

Such innocence. It’s nice that their family, as well as ours, *could* if pressed put a couple of nights in a hotel on a credit card. I left it to my neighbor to explain The Poor and The Middle Class and The Wealthy and The Illuminati Determined To Ruin Us as I came back inside out of the heat.

Sometimes there are consolations in not having children . . . I don’t have to explain why God let the squirrel get run over in front of our house, for example, or why Susie can’t just get her mother to write a check so she can join Scouts and be on the team and so forth. Susie’s single mom can barely afford to stay in her condo in our neighborhood; I noticed the church came last week bringing them school supplies and food, and I’m thinking perhaps they should be the beneficiaries of my closet clean-out if there’s anything they are interested in–if I can figure out some non-insulting and non-condescending way to say, “You look about my size. I have way too many clothes–want some of these before I send them off to consignment?” If I offered to pay for Susie to be in Scouts, I’m afraid it would come across all wrong and they wouldn’t let me do it anyway. Perhaps if I could do it anonymously. But I need to be sure she really does want to be in Scouts. So if I ask, wouldn’t they suspect. . . . (sigh)

It’s all too much for me. I could PLAY with my kids and have lots of fun, but when it came to the tough stuff, I fear I might be one of those bad parents who doesn’t have answers that console children. MY mother didn’t have answers to console me every time, and look how crappy I turned out!!

ANYWAY–first an earthquake, and now a hurricane. Texas needs that rain more than anywhere! This is poor planning on the part of the weathermen! This is their job–why don’t they DO IT RIGHT and send the rain here!! Oh . . . the weathermen don’t make the weather? Dang. What a drag.


Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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