Time for my annual post about . . .
I like the name Fay. She’s the main character in one of my books which may one day see print. I don’t suppose that’s of any comfort.
I hope you’re ok.
Not this is all about me, but I’m due in August, Georgia W-F for a conference.
“It’s Always (About) You.” Nyuk.
Seriously, hope all survive the landfall as best as possible.
You’ll have a lovely time. Bring an umbrella.
This is what you get when you cross Fay Ray with King Kong.
djm
OK, the gas station was busy, but the grocery store was mobbed. A woman driving a handicapped scooter-cum-grocery cart tried to run me down twice. Once, as I was fishing in the very back of a shelf for the last remaining packages – yes, the place looked to have been looted – of those little cups of canned fruit, with some poor man in a smaller handicapped scooter behind me desperately trying to reach a package of crackers, she came up behind me and boomed “ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO HAVE TO MOVE. NOW!” Gosh.
I politely said, “One of us will when we have gotten what we are reaching for. You’ll just have to wait.” I got my fruit, moved on, and she roared past. She tried to ram me again in front of the tuna.
A few minutes later, I was heading for some of those nice Cracker Barrel foil-wrapped cheeselets, which survive quite nicely for days without refrigeration – seriously, I’ve found some in the bottom of my purse that were just fine a week later – when I had to cross in front of her. She was occupying most of the aisle between the cheese and the frozen shrimp. Her son said he’d meet her in the produce section. She boomed “DOESN’T LOOK LIKE I’M GOING ANYWHERE NOW!” and gave me the look of death. I gave her my nicest smile as I bounded in front of her.
In the produce section, the two of them cornered a produce lady and began a long, drawn-out Q&A session about honeydew melons. They had no idea how to tell they were ripe. That gave me time to snag some bananas, broccoli, and carrots in relative safety, and scamper to the water aisle.
I’m doing laundry now. You don’t want people finding your dirty smalls festooning the trees after the storm has passed.
I was headed to SW Georgia as Katrina was forming. Its original trajectory was almost identical to Fay - up the coast of Florida and directly over where I was to go. I was going to stay home (east TN) but my friends talked me into coming anyway. The rest is history, I guess.
Batten down the hatches, Lambchop!
Reg
I’m guessing your Fay isn’t an awesome force of nature that can change from relentless killer to gentle summer rain when moved by subtle shifts that none of us understand. Or maybe she is. Do your currently unpublished books have a genre?
Stupid, slight, adventures for middle-grade children.
And no. But she does have a temper.
My grandchildren can publish an anthology after my death, using money they earned doing real jobs.
Do you think anybody other than would read it? Do you really want to get your books published during your life?
Isn’t “Eek, Eek, Eek.” the sound you make when you see a mouse? Doesn’t expecting a hurricane have it’s own sound?
Well of course…but I acknowledge the reality of the odds. This is not to say I don’t keep trying.
You never know. I’m engaged in a long-range telepathic search at the moment, trying to worm the text out of your subconscious mind. Will you please stop talking to your daughters? It’s giving me a headache.
Good Luck, Lamby! Those scooter-dudes do have chips on their shoulders, don’t they! Think they’re related to Daleks?
Did anyone notice that Lamby used the word “smalls” again?
Good luck from us in Devon, Lamby!
Roland - and Lesley when I tell her you need it!
I think the use of the term “smalls” by Lambie is subjective. She is generalizing and not going into specifics like, which pair is inflatable, etc.
djm
It was this lady, wasn’t it?
Hope your laying low and enjoying that cheese!
Tom
That cheese is safely stored away for a rainy day, so to speak. And, yes, those scooter people are first cousins to the D’s.
Mute, the noise you make when you see a mouse is, as you so astutely noted, “Eek.” The noise you make when you hear about a hurricane coming at you is “Eeeeek!” Five vowels, followed by “TOP OFF THE GAS TANK! TOP OFF THE GAS TANK!”
Well, ok, it’s 8 p.m. Monday. Those of you who see this before the next update to the map (it’s presently the 8 p.m. Monday update) will note a thick red line with a little smidge of thick blue line at the top. The dividing point between the two is the mouth of a bay. I live right on the north shore of that inlet.
You will also note a little circle predicting when the eye of the storm will be at 2 p.m. tomorrow. The actual storm is much larger. Note that the little dot is it is roughly parallel to where I live. Mind you, there will have been storms rotating through the area for some time prior to 2 p.m. Trees flying, electric lines dropping, etc. It’s beginning to get ominous now, in fact.
So, late this afternoon, the Powers that Be decided that we didn’t need to close ALL day tomorrow, just half the day. Employees should still come to work per usual and go home at noon. I commend them for their choice of the afternoon half in which to close – really, that was inspired – but I’m wondering what they could have been thinking when they settled on “noon,” instead of, say, 4 p.m. today.