We had another storm blow through yesterday evening. Thankfully nothing at all like the one on Friday in that our power stayed on and the dog wasn't trying to wedge herself under a couch cushion while the thunder boomed and the wind rasped our house with assorted foliage and branch bits.
It was just your average, everyday hot, humid summer evening thunderstorm with some much needed rain falling in its wake. Here's hoping we are back to normal -- our westie doesn't much like a violent storm, and I cannot say that I blame her.
Prior to it hitting, the local news and weather people were going bonzer yo-yo trying to hype it up while playing the possibility for storm damage down at the same time.
Way to freak out every elderly person in town whose power had finally come back on in the wee hours yesterday, fellas. People have already been lining up in panicked craziness for gasoline, convinced that the gasoline apocalypse is just around the bend, and last night that became a full-fledged tizzy with news reporter hyping gone wild about a distributor who can't get more gas to the pumps because of power losses.
Because, let's face it, sending panicked sheeple driving out to wait in line at the pumps with their engines running the whole time to enjoy all the air conditioning in the car is exactly the way to get them to conserve gas.
I. Know.
There are still more than 10,000 people in my county alone whose homes and businesses are without power. More than half a million people state wide still have no power, including most of my family scattered all over the state. Road crews and power company crews have been working here around the clock. It was a really crazy storm -- because those folks have been pulling 16 hour shifts which usually means the power is back on promptly here. Just too may lines to triage all at once, I suspect.
Plus, it has been a disgusting high 90s with 98 percent humidity here all weekend, and people have been just sweltering and miserable. I can only imagine how working in the hot sun under those conditions makes it even harder.
Mercifully, last night's storm was not even close to the last one. The front that blew in with it cooled the air considerably -- we're looking at the mid-70s today for a high -- and I am immensely grateful for the relief.
Today will mean getting all the coolers and ice chests put away, but not too away because you never know what other storm may be around the corner, right? And the flashlights need to go back to their easily accessible central location, as do the candles and other assorted emergency lighting bits and pieces.
One of the big lessons for me in all of this? No matter how prepared you think you may be, it is never quite enough to cover every contingency. But having prepared a bit can make a huge difference.
We were just in New Orleans a few days ago, eating a lovely dinner with friends and talking about all the improvements they have been able to make to their beautiful home now that it is finally, mercifully back on its foundation -- it has taken this long since Katrina to get it fully righted, and an enormous amount of work from there to here to make it happen. As we were sitting in the dark in our own house on Friday night, sweltering and sweating and wondering whether the roof would hold in the wind and if our hundred year old stained glass windows would stay put, I just kept thinking how luck we were compared to what so many folks in New Orleans and Joplin and and elsewhere have had to go through with violent storms the last few years.
It looks like we have another thunderstorm on the horizon today, but it isn't predicted to be anywhere near as violent. Life in my town is getting back to normal, just based on the ebb and flow of traffic on main street right outside my window as I type this, and the sheer number of people restocking their fridges and freezers at the store yesterday when we were doing the same.
The power will come back on, we will all get on with our lives, and the people who need to rebuild will do so over time. Just like we always do.
But it seems like we ought to all learn a few lessons from times like these. Things like:
Hold each other close and really soak in the good stuff in the moment when it happens.
Have spare, working batteries for all flashlights in the house at all times and candles and matches in places you can easily reach if need be.
Know where your big cooler is, just in case you have to stash all the veggies and fruit in your fridge on ice. You'll be really, really grateful not to have to dig through the assorted crapola in the garage, especially since having a big, hairy spider crawl across your arm while you are doing so in the sweaty, boiling hot dark garage is the Worst. Thing. EVER.
Keep some pantry items at hand that do not have to be heated to be enjoyed. (Stupid electric stove...grumble...grumble.)
When the federal government started talking about building an emergency preparedness kit after 9/11, and again after Katrina and every major disaster since then? It was a really, really good idea and one we all ought to make sure we do. (FEMA has a great starter information page here.)
The best thing by far about this storm? Learning anew how wonderful unplugging from all the electronic clutter can be, and how folks in town are really pulling together to help neighbors in need.
Those little acts of kindness really do add up to something wonderful.
(Photo by Christy Hardin Smith, of a planter in Jackson Square in New Orleans, Louisiana.)
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