The Emergency of Truth

Sitting in my Henry-chair at 2:33, eyes a bit crusty. Checking the storm predictions flowing on Twitter & the news – those chipper Jihadi weathermeisters & their Cats 3-4-5. Well, partner, my cats all had tails & whiskers. I’m a Jersey Girl. We grew up with nor’easters. I do recall this one, though:

Hurricane Agnes – Wikipedia

In both Pennsylvania and New Jersey combined, about 43,594 structures were either destroyed or significantly damaged. In Canada, a mobile home was toppled, …

A mobile home was toppled? 43.5K structures? Helene just sideswiped North Carolina & the bodies … the bodies … it must be a Civil War battlefield scene, era BBB: Before Body Bags.

No matter who does or does not come to “SAVE” us. We are already in our next lives, regardless of lingering in this one to the fullest extent possible.

This post is a ramble. The hour is not unusual anymore. By tomorrow night the Milton will be rattling the front door with rain bands. The boss wants me at work to “go over Sunday Service” today. I’ve got it done but forgot to send it to her before leaving, so I’ll head in. I’ll try to pick up ice if any is left in Sarasota & fill my roommate’s cooler in case of no electric. I’ll fill the bathtubs in the place. I’ll grab two extra gallons of her special filtered water at the Center.

We just fixed the floors & walls there from Tropical Storm Debby – truly ‘Little Debby’ in light of these Cat 5’s lining up.

Lots of speculation on my part – did they pick up enough quartz crystal on Siesta Key’s famed beach to fuel steering Helene? Will a bit of my friend’s floated-off trailer home churn the EV engine on the next Volt? And stop nattering about mobile homes – normally you don’t need much more in a tropical environment so standards were met. It’s another case of needing new conspiracy theories cuz all the old ones have come true.

Truth seems to be “they” are not through with Florida yet. Like the Conquistadores, they’re after the (now) indigenous population but I don’t think there’s lithium here for reward… maybe they need new alligator shoes.

In keeping with irony, yesterday I found an oldie by Richard Bach – a long-favorite author – called Running for Safety. HA! “Nowhere to run to, Baby, nowhere to hide” says the song.

I expect our apartment complex to weather this well. Debby did a good culling of branches but the piles are still on the grounds & a dead tree can be as lethal as a live one being stripped down in the moment. I have said I’m comfortable on both sides of the Veil & might get to experience the flip tomorrow night. But I’ll probably sit in Henry, listening to the wind & supposedly caring about Sunday Service.

I’m out of there soon, anyway. With how that building aged, there might not be anything there come Sunday! My time might be better spent cooking the flounder in the freezer.

There’s only so much I can take: being prodded at work, blogging at 3 a.m., checking on X for weather updates. The only “whether” I have going on is if my kid has enough info to get the little bit of money I have saved – she can donate it to the Florida Relief Go-Fund-Me, yeh?

Me? I’m always at the beginning of something. It’s what I’m best at.

Love,

C