Clearly someone hates New Jersey. I mean, someone besides the usual. Because why else would we get an earthquake, a hurricane and a tornado warning in the same week?
Right, I know, the earthquake wasn't too bad up here and West Coasters are mocking us for being wusses. (Oh yeah? Well ... you have bad pizza!) Irene was slightly worse, in that one person died and there's flooding all over the state. And since I have basically lived all over the state at some point or another -- south, central, north, northwest -- it upsets me to see streets flooded and towns damaged. But where we are now, the power is on, my garden is still intact (though the tomato plants appear to be doing the downward dog) and only a little water seeped into the basement, so really we can't complain. I have no idea what the rest of the town looks like and I have no intention of finding out until tomorrow. Way too windy.
I could've sworn we were leaving all this behind when we left Florida. In 2004. The year four hurricanes hit Florida, one right after the other. And we thought, man, are we making the right decision.
Poor DH had to suffer through the one that most directly hit Broward, where we were. I'd already gone back north to start the new job. Our apartment complex (pink. The whole exterior. Not kidding) had storm shutters available for the sliding balcony doors, and our downstairs neighbors were nice enough to help him put them on. And then they lost power during the storm. So he had to sit there, in the pitch dark -- those storm shutters are seriously thick -- with the cat, all five thousand of my orchids he'd hauled in from the balcony, the metal chairs and table he'd also hauled in from the balcony, and a non-working fridge. For more than 24 hours. He kept calling me for storm info, since he had no way of looking it up himself.
A few weeks later, I came back. For the cat. Because I knew he wouldn't be able to bring her to a shelter if there were another hurricane. Shockingly, he did not divorce me on the spot.
So things this time were a bit of an improvement, I guess. I was even able to get the usual milk/bread/produce on Thursday night and avoid the apocalyptic madness that is the supermarket right before any kind of weather happens. I couldn't find flashlights anywhere, though.
We got worried about the tornado warning, since if there really was one coming we'd have to get the kids out of bed and hide with them in the bathroom. So we stayed up, in shifts, watching News 12 and making sure no tornado happened. Today we're both a wreck and the kids, having had the best night's sleep ever, are running circles around us. Now they are napping and it is blessed silence, except for the wind outside.
But definitely, could've been worse.
I look forward to the locusts and fiery hailstorms next week.
Right, I know, the earthquake wasn't too bad up here and West Coasters are mocking us for being wusses. (Oh yeah? Well ... you have bad pizza!) Irene was slightly worse, in that one person died and there's flooding all over the state. And since I have basically lived all over the state at some point or another -- south, central, north, northwest -- it upsets me to see streets flooded and towns damaged. But where we are now, the power is on, my garden is still intact (though the tomato plants appear to be doing the downward dog) and only a little water seeped into the basement, so really we can't complain. I have no idea what the rest of the town looks like and I have no intention of finding out until tomorrow. Way too windy.
I could've sworn we were leaving all this behind when we left Florida. In 2004. The year four hurricanes hit Florida, one right after the other. And we thought, man, are we making the right decision.
Poor DH had to suffer through the one that most directly hit Broward, where we were. I'd already gone back north to start the new job. Our apartment complex (pink. The whole exterior. Not kidding) had storm shutters available for the sliding balcony doors, and our downstairs neighbors were nice enough to help him put them on. And then they lost power during the storm. So he had to sit there, in the pitch dark -- those storm shutters are seriously thick -- with the cat, all five thousand of my orchids he'd hauled in from the balcony, the metal chairs and table he'd also hauled in from the balcony, and a non-working fridge. For more than 24 hours. He kept calling me for storm info, since he had no way of looking it up himself.
A few weeks later, I came back. For the cat. Because I knew he wouldn't be able to bring her to a shelter if there were another hurricane. Shockingly, he did not divorce me on the spot.
So things this time were a bit of an improvement, I guess. I was even able to get the usual milk/bread/produce on Thursday night and avoid the apocalyptic madness that is the supermarket right before any kind of weather happens. I couldn't find flashlights anywhere, though.
We got worried about the tornado warning, since if there really was one coming we'd have to get the kids out of bed and hide with them in the bathroom. So we stayed up, in shifts, watching News 12 and making sure no tornado happened. Today we're both a wreck and the kids, having had the best night's sleep ever, are running circles around us. Now they are napping and it is blessed silence, except for the wind outside.
But definitely, could've been worse.
I look forward to the locusts and fiery hailstorms next week.
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