This Is The Story of a Hurricane?

So the last few days we had the luxury of shifting our worries and anxieties from the plague to the weather. A storm, largely a tropical one and for a time a hurricane, stalked us. It had a name I could neither spell nor pronounce: Isiaias, I think. I took to calling it Isidore, after my late maternal grandfather, who I barely met before he died.

Anyway, after living in Miami 40 years, I would hope I could take these things in stride, unless we are put under an actual hurricane warning. I would hope wrong. My OCD and news junkie status kept me checking the status every several hours -- knowing that, for example, the 11 am advisory actually comes online about 10:50, and so refreshing my browser then.

I have my protocol, or had it. If it appears a Cat 3 or higher is headed our way, I gather up the family and leave. Of course, in this time of the plague, that's no easy task, as it was when Irma struck three years ago. Now, we have a 7.5 month grandson to worry about, as well as a total of 4 dogs, one of whom is enormous.  Hotels? Ha -- worldwide hotbeds of infection. Friends' houses in Orlando and Atlanta?  Same thing -- the damned virus complicates everything.

Fortunately, this Isidore threat was never great -- even if it hit, it was going to be a minor hurricane. The problem was, we're all stuck inside, and the thought of quarantine without A/C wasn't a pleasant one. I have a portable generator, powerful enough to work one A/C and a few appliances, but I haven't run the thing in quite awhile.  My strategy was always -- if the power is out, we check into a nice hotel somewhere it's on. That strategy is flawed when you're afraid of hotels...

My brother Eric and I talked -- he and Dana ordered a whole house generator, which will be installed by the end of the Summer. He did all the vetting and analysis, and figured that since his kids and granddaughter all live in Palm Beach County, they ought to have a "war room" where all can live if the power gets knocked out.

I agree. I may spring for one as well, assuming we survive the plague and storm season.

The problem is, as my dear friend Norman learned during Irma -- the things can break down, and in the immediate aftermath of a major storm, ain't no one coming out to fix it.  So there are no excellent solutions...

I still think I may go that route -- I guess the $30K or so price tag adds to resale value -- Wifey can recoup it when she sells the house after I die, which is when I plan to move from here...

By Friday night, it appeared Miami was out of the cone of death, but Palm Beach wasn't. We Zoomed with Eric and Dana, and they had to put up the few shutters for the not yet installed impact windows. That's another thing -- I still have a few windows without accordion shutters. I plan to make my house ALL accordion shutter in the Fall -- even the tiny windows where the panels are no big deal. As I age, as Eric pointed out, ALL storm prep is a big deal.

Still -- we had a lovely Zoom -- with Scott and Sam from D.C., Barry and Josh from Broward, and a special appearance from Barry's sister Phyllis, who was visiting. Eric and Dana ate dinner as we all chatted and drank. 

Saturday, we cancelled a family lunch here on account of the threatening weather, which thankfully never became any more than a few rain bands and winds slower than a typical Miami T storm. I got in 7.5 miles of anxiety walking, before the rain chased me home.

Wifey found Godfather III on tv, and I watched it for the third time -- decent movie, but not classic like I and II.

Today, Isidore flies North. Captain Doctor Kenny texted some promising news from his Maine hideout -- the Covid census at his Miami hospital is down significantly from a few weeks ago. He hopes the storm missing us and reducing plague numbers might be an indicator that the Big Woman (he is such a feminist) may be done frowning on Miami for awhile....

I hope he's right, of course.

So -- good riddance, now TS Isidore. Stay the hell off the coast. 

Everyone is ready for 2020 to end. My thinking is we can move things along -- if we decide the Jewish New Year was the bad one, well -- we only have a month and a half left. So I say -- come on, 5781!  Let that be a year of renewal and healing, for all of us. Big Man, or Big Woman, willing...