Much ado about a hurricane
She was impressive from the start. Like moths to a flame, weather experts near and far latched onto Hurricane Florence more than a week before she made landfall, which gave this OCD preparation expert plenty of time to stew things over and imagine all the possibilities.
Early on, Florence was supposed make a near-direct hit on Virginia and glide slowly over top of us, dropping feet - feet - of rain. She was the size of both the Carolinas put together and strengthening basically by the minute. Five days before the predicted worst of it, just before lunch, Brandon emailed me that Florence was at category 3 and I needed to think about getting whatever we'd need for days without power, and to go sooner rather than later so I wouldn't have a panic attack at the Black Friday version of Kroger. And then...
It took under an hour. So I hopped on a late - and what ended up being a long - lunch break. Yes, I was the crazy lady speeding her heavy cart full of water, Pop Tarts, baby wipes, and batteries through the store. And of course some cookie dough. A few boxes of crackers. And toilet paper. Four loaves of bread and three gallons of milk. You know, the important no-electricity-for-a-week-so-here's-my-comfort kind of stuff.
I definitely wasn't alone, and found out later that my pastor and father-in-law himself made a run for emergency supplies. He doesn't grocery shop very often so this was big doings. Oh how I wish I had the photo, but he came out with tuna, canned cheese, Dove chocolates, three cases of Dr. Pepper, and some water.
Priorities, y'all. We take hurricanes even more seriously than those super-frightening mid-Atlantic blizzards that dump three inches on us.
But truly, we did take it seriously. Propane in the grill tank, gas cans filled, gutters cleaned out, anything that could become flying debris secured as well as it could be.
Then the wait. Fretting over our precious Myrtle Beach, and our friends and family living in the Carolinas. Poring over the Weather channel and its, well, sometimes-dramatized reports. And the ever-changing predictions of path and strength and timing. She shifted south, got bigger, weakened a bit, and slowed to a crawl. As she made landfall on Friday, hundreds of miles from us, we experienced her beginning. Winds and rain that would last a weekend.
Praise the Lord, we were spared the worst. Never lost power. Basement didn't flood. School and work never cancelled. Safe, secure, and dry. Praise, praise the Lord.
The porch is put back together, the hurricane snacks are gone, and five inches of rain later our grass is deep green and growing once more. We very much grasp the blessing that we've been handed, knowing that many are suffering from what ended up being simply a distraction to us.
Thankful.
Early on, Florence was supposed make a near-direct hit on Virginia and glide slowly over top of us, dropping feet - feet - of rain. She was the size of both the Carolinas put together and strengthening basically by the minute. Five days before the predicted worst of it, just before lunch, Brandon emailed me that Florence was at category 3 and I needed to think about getting whatever we'd need for days without power, and to go sooner rather than later so I wouldn't have a panic attack at the Black Friday version of Kroger. And then...
It took under an hour. So I hopped on a late - and what ended up being a long - lunch break. Yes, I was the crazy lady speeding her heavy cart full of water, Pop Tarts, baby wipes, and batteries through the store. And of course some cookie dough. A few boxes of crackers. And toilet paper. Four loaves of bread and three gallons of milk. You know, the important no-electricity-for-a-week-so-here's-my-comfort kind of stuff.
I definitely wasn't alone, and found out later that my pastor and father-in-law himself made a run for emergency supplies. He doesn't grocery shop very often so this was big doings. Oh how I wish I had the photo, but he came out with tuna, canned cheese, Dove chocolates, three cases of Dr. Pepper, and some water.
Priorities, y'all. We take hurricanes even more seriously than those super-frightening mid-Atlantic blizzards that dump three inches on us.
But truly, we did take it seriously. Propane in the grill tank, gas cans filled, gutters cleaned out, anything that could become flying debris secured as well as it could be.
Then the wait. Fretting over our precious Myrtle Beach, and our friends and family living in the Carolinas. Poring over the Weather channel and its, well, sometimes-dramatized reports. And the ever-changing predictions of path and strength and timing. She shifted south, got bigger, weakened a bit, and slowed to a crawl. As she made landfall on Friday, hundreds of miles from us, we experienced her beginning. Winds and rain that would last a weekend.
Praise the Lord, we were spared the worst. Never lost power. Basement didn't flood. School and work never cancelled. Safe, secure, and dry. Praise, praise the Lord.
The porch is put back together, the hurricane snacks are gone, and five inches of rain later our grass is deep green and growing once more. We very much grasp the blessing that we've been handed, knowing that many are suffering from what ended up being simply a distraction to us.
Thankful.
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