…is when Gustav is supposed to come a knocking on Louisiana’s door. The helicopters I’m hearing are real. We’re as ready as we can be here in Baton Rouge unless someone has invented some type of battery powered force field-esque falling tree defense that I’m unaware of. In which case I don’t have one. Losing power is always a big inconvenience but the only thing that I’m really worried about is trees on the ground and the house.
So we’re pretty much just bummin’ around waiting for this thing to happen and doing anything that requires electricity that we will not be able to do for a few days (washing clothes and dishes mainly). We’re not really nervous about the storm at this point, you pretty much have to take what it gives you, and all the anticipation is kind of fun in a weird way (see Alex’s entry on the matter for more on that). I bought the last items on my hurricane supply list on Friday: a half gallon of Maker’s Mark and a half gallon of Bombay gin, so at the least we’ll be able to weather the storm in a fashion befitting the southeastern Louisiana aesthetic. Unfortunately ice is already hard to come by so lukewarm cocktails might rule the day. But you make do with what you have.
The next week might be a tough one but unless we get a direct hit from a tree, assume that Maddie Potter and I are fine down here in the Red Stick. I’ll be updating our status as power and internet availability allow.
There’s been a lot of waiting and watching on Gustav up to this point. I had told myself I’d know to switch gears to full on ‘hurricane survival mode’ when I started hearing the helicopters coming in. Choppers overhead in Baton Rouge are my enduring memory of Hurricane Katrina. On the Friday before the storm hit I was at Independence Park up on Lobdell which is right next to the State Emergency Response Headquarters, hitting baseballs on one of the fields when the helicopters started coming in, landing a few hundred yards away to shuttle officials into disaster planning meetings. It drove home the fact pretty quickly that something big was going down even though we still didn’t have a clue as to how big that something was going to be. After the storm they were the constant reminder of how bad things were down in New Orleans: for a number of days the only way into and out of the city was by helicopter, all of which were using Baton Rouge as home base. For at least 6 weeks after the storm the sound of rotors cutting the air was a constant companion to life post-Katrina.
Excuse me for not mentioning that Ashes & Water was taking a bit of a summer vacation. Thing is, I really didn’t know I was going on vacation myself, but here it is a month and a half since my last post. It’s been a busy couple of months with Professor Fury & Contessa throwing the last Poolapalooza, a trip to South Carolina for fun with the cousins and Maddie Potter moving into the Yellow(ish) House on Morning Glory. But after this weekend’s sojourn to Orange Beach with the Underpass Gang, which I’m out the door for in just a few minutes, vacation is over and I’ll be back in the keyboard powered saddle, whipping this thing for all it’s worth. With the Braves hardly ever playing on TBS anymore it’s been a rather sports starved summer and so it seems that the arrival of football season is even more welcome than it normally is, which is saying a lot. I’ve been following the Saint’s training camp at my alma mater pretty closely this year (I even made it up to Jackson with a Saturday scrimmage), especially with the aid of fellow Millsapian DeMeat’s very thorough training camp expose.
In other circles, Gorjus and I also managed to get him a dedicated website for the Sandusky Review up and running. Be sure to check it out if you haven’t made it over that way yet.