The Story of the Hurricane

There are certain images that come to mind every time I hear "Hurricane Isaac." I wish I could tell you the first one was this:

(That's Sir Isaac Newton)

But no. One of the greatest scientists and mathematicians of all time is not the first Isaac that comes to mind. Neither is he: 

That's renowned violinist
Itzhak Perlman

Yes. I just dropped an Itzhak Perlman reference on you. ("Itzhak" is the Hebrew form of "Isaac.") Unfortunately, I am not as highbrow as you or even I may think I am. So, probably like most of you, when I hear "Hurricane Isaac" I think of this:

Ted Lange as Isaac, Your Ship's Bartender

What can I say? I am a child of the 80's with an overflowing fountain of pop culture knowledge.

All kidding aside, it will be a while before I forget preparing for, and bracing through, Hurricane Irene a year ago this week. I pray for those in the path of Isaac, especially the people and city of New Orleans. It's hard to believe it's been a year since Irene. We were fortunate not to have too much damage. Still, the whole experience was nerve-racking. Please take some time to check out the posts inspired by the storm:

Peanut and I weathered the storm without My Director. Peanut never  knew how nervous I was since it was up to me to provide her Shelter From the Storm

They say you can tell a lot about a person by how they act in times of stress. Well, Peanut earned a special treat when she showed me that no matter what's happening, honesty is always The Best Policy.

When I finally got the mess cleaned up, it was nice to say Goodnight, Irene to the storm, its aftermath, and everything it damaged. 

Shortly thereafter, we got around to waterproofing our basement. After a series of shady guys paraded through our house, we found a trustworthy (and handsome) guy to fix our Water Down Below. (He's right there on the left.)

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The Joys of Homeownership: Water Down Below

My Director loves watching HGTV. She insists that had we gone on the show Holmes Inspection, that guy would have found all of the nonsense that our home inspector didn't find. (One day I will tell you how we came to find out we had no heat upstairs, for example.) But with hurricane season coming I think it's prudent to talk about the elephant in the basement.

The previous homeowner assured us there had never been water in the basement. They lied. (Rookie mistake on our part.) Our idiot inspector blindly agreed with their assessment. (He has since refunded us his entire fee.) To be clear, we're talking about water here, not flooding. Seepage, if you will. Then came Hurricane Irene last year, and this:

The Lake in the Basement

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The Joys of Homeownership: Goodnight, Irene

I promise this is the last time I mention the hurricane. Why? Because the final remnants of the damage the storm did to our property are now on the curb awaiting pickup. The long weekend enabled procrastinating old me to finish the work that needed to be done.

First, the big branch that split and fell from this tree on our sidewalk:

Sad and breaky

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The Best Policy

"Honesty is hardly ever heard and mostly what I need from you." -Billy Joel

I said I was done talking about Hurricane Irene after my post from Monday. I lied. (Kind of.)

On Saturday night, I cooked a nice meal for me, the Peanut, and the friends that were hunkered down with us. I made a pot of gravy with ravioli and orecchiette, chicken cutlets, and a nice salad. If we were going to lose power for any extended period of time, I wanted to make sure we were well fed.

The Peanut was fine during dinner, but she didn't eat enough to earn dessert. She ate all of her pasta, one piece of her salad, and none of her meatball or chicken cutlet.

Regardless, she posed the inevitable question she asks nightly, "Daddy, may I have dessert?" I told her no. She didn't eat enough of her salad or her meatball. And she would have to if she wanted dessert.

She is at the age where she understands consequences now. And sometimes she accepts them. So she said, "Then I don't want dessert."

Fine.

Under the circumstances (solo parenting, with company, a huge storm about to hit), I wasn't about to fight her over a few pieces of lettuce.

My friend and I sat there polishing off the rest of the chicken cutlets. Who are we to let them go to waste if God forbid the power goes out? While doing so, his wife was busting out a package of Milano cookies they had brought. (Incidentally, when buying food for a hurricane, it appears most of it winds up being processed, boxed, and/or bagged.)

She offered one to the Peanut. To which my daughter, who continues to amaze me, replied, "No, my daddy said I couldn't have dessert, remember?"

I loved her so much in that moment. This little pain int he a$$ who fights me almost nightly because I make her eat what we eat . Who has to negotiate every single bite. Who asks for dessert just moments after we sit down for dinner.

I got out of my chair, knelt down to hug her and rewarded her for her honesty with a Milano cookie. Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Just when you think the stress of the routine, the anxiety of the coming hurricane, and the neuroses of parenting on your own have involuntarily made you a bad parent, your child will shove a little honesty in your face.

Maybe we're doing something right after all. What that is, I have no idea.

If you missed my full Irene post, click here to read it. Now I'm done with Irene posts... maybe.

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Shelter From the Storm

"If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds and that old north wind should begin to blow." -James Taylor

My daughter will only know how terrified I was of Hurricane Irene if she reads this post one day.

Terri. Fied.

Why? Because I just didn't know. I didn't know if I took all of the necessary precautions and stocked up on all of the necessary supplies. I didn't know if I was making the right decisions.

I didn't know if I could do it without my wife.

She had to work this weekend. This was move-in weekend at the college where she works and it's her event. She had to make sure everything went smoothly. Make sure everyone was safe.

But what about us?

I protested. I guilt-tripped her. I told her she was putting herself in harm's way by staying in the city, which was expecting a direct hit from the storm. I said her bosses were being stubborn. I laid it on thick.

She told me, "I have two words for you: nine eleven."

She was right. When 9/11 happened I was gone for nearly a week. I stayed in the city. I put myself in harm's way. We were on high alert. My station was a block from the United Nations, a potential target.

So I relented. I knew where she wanted to be. The same place where I wanted her to be.

Still terrified at the thought of enduring a hurricane alone with the Peanut, I thought about driving her west to my in-laws, dropping her off, then turning around to stay with the house. I thought they might not get it as bad. (Turns out they lost power and we didn't).

I imagined hugging her goodbye, knowing what was ahead of us, and I nearly broke down. The thought of abandoning her like that just broke my heart. Even though she would not have seen it that way. She would have loved staying at her grandparents' house.

No... we'd ride it out together. I'd put on my brave face. I'd pray. A lot. I'd think about my parents. How the hell did they seem so calm during Hurricane Gloria in 1985? Or were they filled with the same anxiety I was feeling now? Did I just not know it because they had put on a brave face?

Peanut hungry for pasta & chicken cutlets

Luckily, some friends were coming over to wait out the storm with us. So I told the Peanut it was going to be a party. We kept busy. We played games. We watched movies. I cooked two meals because apparently I cook when I'm nervous. We drank beer. (Not the Peanut.) Lots of beer.

As the storm picked up, whipping rain and wind against the house, we went through our normal bedtime routine. Potty. Brush teeth. Wash hands and face. Book. Silly shadows. Race down the hall. Kiss and hug goodnight. Brave face.

My biggest fear was something happening to the house, and Peanut freaking out. A power outage. Or worse... One of the many trees around our property crashing down. I woke up a few times during the night to check on everything. I looked out the windows, scanned the trees in the yard, checked on the Peanut, and inspected for possible Luna bombs on the living room carpet downstairs.

The little pump that could

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