Despite what I wrote in The Elevator, we’re pretty ho-hum about hurricanes around here. That doesn’t mean we don’t respect them–we do. But all of them seem to skirt the tiny little peninsula where my family and 924,000 other people live. (We’re the most densely populated county in Florida.)
Still, when a hurricane approaches from the south, we prick up our ears. Tropical storm Fay is headed our way, but we’re not doing anything until tomorrow morning. Then we’ll get up, check the maps, and either go about our business or start battening down the hatches. My family won’t evacuate–first, we’re not in an evac zone; second, our house has hurricane shutters; and third, I’m not leaving my dogs.
The map you see here is the latest on the storm, and it’s supposed to come ashore south of us. We’ll see.
Now–I’ve never really thought it made much sense to pray for a hurricane not to strike me–after all, if it doesn’t strike me, it’ll strike someone else, and how selfish is that? So I’m praying that the storm gentles as it comes ashore, and that people get smart and do what they’re supposed to do to prepare.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled blogging . . .