She Huffed and She Puffed...

Post Dolly; a beautiful Sunday, sun shining and insects buzzing. Laundry rolling around the dryer and cats snoozing in various positions and locations.

A week ago we were on the beach at S. Padre Island. It was a perfect beach day with the surf beginning to rise, the scent of suntan lotion, beer and salty breezes gently lifting and snapping the umbrella skirt adding to the surf sound the rhythmic beating of material. All the bikini clad elders and their slender nubile younger counterparts parading up and down the shore line. Young men with mini fros and crazy torn hats or stick straight hair, cigarettes dangling from slender almost girlish fingers furtively checking out the glamours girls with hats and headbands winding through their beautiful dark hair. Joggers with and without sneakers, boogie boarders, ladies in Jewelry, all made up with Dixie cup Margaretta's. Older men sucking up/in impossible bellies as they stroll with obvious eye candy enjoyment. Young and old posturing, swimming, squealing, eating, drinking and enjoying a Sunday on the beach. Barry is checking his e-mails and the Internet storm data trying to relax while his body burns in the exact same places it always burns. Talking storms and weather until Rossana is cross eyed. He gets calls from everyone for updates, yet he is soaking in the nirvana of the beach. It was a perfect day, later on I'd begin to get my storm headache, that would last through Wednesday. Later I would worry that maybe we should have boarded up because as the storm approached I didn't see anything of Barry but a few hours after.

Monday I went on a storm buying spree, no one else was stocking up no one else in a frenzy to remove outside things that could be broken or become projectiles. Jeral the Sio (science officer) at the office was stoked and lowered his Metal shutters battening down with $400. worth of water and emergency food. Battery operated cell phone chargers, and what else. He has been banging the drum all season that we will get the big one this year. Their house is armed and ready, I am sitting with a 20thousand gallon yet to be pool hole in the ground. No word from my builder, no sounds of cement trucks at my yard. I tuck a few things into my emergency go to closet round up the cat food and take two Aleve and clench my teeth.

I hear from Ernesto finally, he is at the inspectors office and won't leave until he is delivered home to my pool with the OK to pour. Ernesto, has two cement trucks of immense volume standing ready. Relief sweeps through me, and I text Barry the news. True to his word the inspector, Ernesto and cement all arrive close to 3 or 4 I've lost track of time as I move more things to ready for the storm. Aunt Pat has been calling about up dates as well as Adam, from Ft. Knox, friends and family.

Tuesday, and sounds from my neighbors boarding up richochet around The Woods, people are paying attention and are begining to stock up more huge trucks of materials arrive from Home Depot to the Lower Rio Grande. Rossana comes for lunch, I baked a frozen veggie pizza as I try to cook and eat my way through our freezers and fridge as not to have too much in case we loose power. We gorge on cake and coffee as well, both of us jittery and nervous she wants me to stay there, but I won't leave the cats. The captain will go down with her ship and not abandon her crew. B said he'd come home about 3 put up boards and then go back he is not here.

I had taken pics as my pool took shape while the men wrestled the spitting snake that spewed forth cement in vast furious quantities. Three men held on to her and guided her as two other formed and smoothed her into shape; sides, steps and floor begin to appeared carved in wet stone. They went on this way till nearly eight at night. Barry came home around nine and he draged our patio stuff off to the garage and tightens down what ever he can but we do not board, and he is now covered in mud and cement. Our fence has a huge gap, he weighs down the foundered section and we pray the rest of it does not become a sail.

Dolly day;
It is beginning to sputter rain. Barry is gone by 2:30 a.m. I packed sleeping bag, pillow, blanket, towels, into his car before the rains really started the night before.

The morning is dark, dismal and the winds are high, water is lashing and spinning around the barrel tile roof. I check the house all is well, watching the news, I look at the radar it's jogged a bit north and west but we are 10 miles from the projected land fall when it does land. She, Dolly, is stalled taking her time. I move the cats food and boxes into the hall way away from windows and outside walls. I fill our garden tub with water and put batteries in the portable TV radio, all the candles are out and ready. 10:20 we loose our electric, my bed is made and the house is clean, the cats are alternately badgering me or sleeping fitfully. Pablo is running around like a vildachia. I down two more Aleve and turn on the radio only to hear my husbands interview about the storm. Another reconnoiter, I eat some cereal sin milk and marvel at the wind and rain, it's 1:30 my radio blaring, I see Pablo scooting into the kitchen hind quarters soaked I am on the phone with my Uncle Mark and I have to investigate. Water on the floor of the dining room, the root is the front doors my gorgeous front hall is awash. I quickly move the furniture and breakables out and begin sweep moping the flooding waters towards the door as I gather rags and towels to stem the tide. I have to hold the doors down with my full body weight as the wind pounds and pummels the front of my house. After so many hurricanes in Tampa and New York I have to tell you none of them sounded like this one. The rain is driving straight at my home unrelenting, trees are bent sideways and debree skips along the empty lots. My deep end is filling up with water and rises along the slanted pool towards the shallows.

I am sweating in the eighty degree hall way as wringing and moping goes on unabated. Callie and Piper are holed up in the den where you can't hear a sound of wind. The hall is a tower with barrel roof tile and the wind sounds like someone pounding bass drums. Every so often Callie girl pokes her head around the corner and lets me know just what she thinks of the whole thing. Pablo brings me his toys and stays as close to me without getting too wet as he can. All told nearly seven full buckets of water. At some point I text B the news and he texts back that as soon as it's safe he'll try to get home. I tell him to just stay put as I'm afraid he won't get into the front door, flooding and high winds make it too dangerous to travel in our little Honda. Barry as good as his word comes in at 7:30 p.m. but the wind is shifting around and the moping up is not as great. I am so afraid that my porcelain tiled floors will buckle. I eat a can of cold soup and we trundle off to bed, I check on the door once during the night as all three cats sleep as close as they can to us in the close muggy heat of the night.

Barry is on at 6 I am pretty sure he just put on a cap brushed his teeth and shaved. I never heard him leave. Heavy soaked masses of towels and rags greet me at my door but a light mop up and all is as good as new. I move the cats stuff back into the laundry room and turn on the radio listing to aftermath coverage. Around 10:30 Rossana arrives and helps me with moving the wet towels to the laundry. She is here to help me disconnect my garage doors so I can pull out my car and charge my phone etc. Flashlight in hand we open the door and she says in amazement Michele the lights are on in your garage! So they are, and we see the lamp on in the kitchen and my led clock flashing its violent gummy green glow. Power blessed power. I wait awhile before turning on one of our two air units and keep it at 78 just in case. I began rescuing stuff out of fridge and freezer and had meatballs in sauce and Hurricane soup bubbling in a flash. The cats are acting as if nothing at all untoward has happened and they don't care that we have power. They eat and nap and lick at appropriate body parts and Pablo dunks his toys in his water bowl like a Raccoon washing it's food. He has tried to dunk everything into the jacuzzi tub but I have rejected this practise vociferously. So he contents himself with the little body of water.

Rossana checks out the Temple and there is massive flooding and ceiling damage. Irwin the president has his shop vac and is cleaning up. Mesmerized I sit and watch the storm through the medias eyes and see the damage to S.Padre, Harlingen, and Los Fresnos, all areas just north of us some less than 10 miles away. So thanks for all those whose energy protected and gave me the strength to keep the house from flooding. I even got to the Hairdressers Friday for a much needed touch up, I am going grey! My hairdresser Mary had her baby on Wednesday at the height of the storm something I was very sure would occur. No, I was reassured she did not name her Dolly.

Barry, Geoff, Rossana and I celebrated the successful work they did as well as B's birthday Saturday night with obscene amounts of sushi, cold Saki at Uchi, and finally compliments of Rossana dessert at Tres Fratelli. My dear friend Sandy Crocker admonishes me when I don't blog, I really didn't think anyone read this, I've been treating it like a think piece. Anyway, yesterday she said blog it! So here it is by popular demand.

Hello Dolly

I was hoping to post something else, but as the T.S. soon to be Hurricane Dolly approaches I figured I'd just quick blog. The pool was poured yesterday nothing short of a miracle, Ernesto practically dragged the inspector here and then did a marathon pour until nearly eight last night. This means no sink hole in our yard with yards and yards of mud caving in.

Yesterday I did a quick water /food run and the cats are set for their food needs. I've got my batteries NOAA weather radio, and ice. I baked a cake for the crew at Barry's NWS office. It's a quarter to one here and the wind is definitely picking up. Barry is going to try to get home and board up some windows and secure the outside before going back to the trenches.

I have been battling my Hurricane headache since Sunday night, I don't need no stinking radar.

Someone asked me the other day about living in Brownsville, and I have to admit I love it really. It's a very small town not a lot going on seemingly but we've been scratching the surface and finding some nuggets. We went to a great musical event at the funky art gallery in town 409, and were just blown away by the talent! Blues and Blues/Jazz fusion with a hint of the Latin. What a joy to be sitting in a historic brick building with these great Tin soaring ceilings and old wood floors that vibrated with the bass and drummers. Free booze, and an upbeat eclectic crowd. The walls are hung with art of a very Mexican nature skeletal Hells Angels, dancers, one painting featured a Mogen David, another even a skeleton riding a bicycle with two tornadoes in the background. I found that one very apropos of Barry but I am not sure he'd want it hanging in his office at home aka the cave.

Rossana and I went to Mexico Friday for a quick stop at the pharmacy, and we had a great appetizer, mushrooms au gratin and hot Tortillas at the Irish pub with a two fer Margaretta's. Then we wobbled back to Brownsville replete and ready for the weekend. So far I've eaten four Mexican meals in Montamoros, one in the Paris cafe and the other in the Irish pub.

We had planned to "do" the museums here this week, and one exhibit is the tools of torture with an emphases on the Spanish Inquisition. Personally I am not ready for that one Rossana though, has a personal connection to this and I think I may have to be a very good friend and keep her company.

It just started to rain and the sky is darkening and so it begins. It continues to rain lightly intermittently.

Barry's birthday is on Saturday, and depending on this storm, if we are up and running again we are taking him to WINKS a Bar dance hall out in the wilds, that features a mechanical bull and a riding corral for real buckaroos. The music is pure Country Western & Tejano. I am not a big two stepper but will try to deport myself as well as I can.

This Saturday I was on a roll and baked my Blueberry Buckle, and Yogurt cakes. They both turned out to be nearly the best I have made so I am finally making friends with this stove and oven. If I could have my wishes granted though a gas stove and electric oven would be very nice if the kitchen genie is listening or ah reading as the case may be. All things are good at this moment and I have no complaints about my world, now if Dolly could just shpatzier much further south all would truly be well.