Can't You Hear Me Knocking?

It's been a bit of a day, truth be told.  What started out as a usual Tuesday ended up with a bit of worry about an approaching hurricane including thoughts about renters' flood insurance and worries about exploding beer in my brew room.  That and I experienced my first earthquake (which apparently was an experience shared with most of the East coast).

The earthquake, I admit, was surprising as hell, because we aren't supposed to get those kinds of phenomenon here.  Earthquakes, raging wildfires, mudslides, El Nino sandstorms...those are the kinds of things we have gladly surrendered to our cousins out West.  In exchange, they get that expansive Pacific Ocean to gaze at, their news programming on a delay, and some spectacular scenery along the Pacific Coast Highway.  We get snow and wicked nor'easters up in the North, and mosquitoes the size of small toddlers down here in the South.  Trust me, we always knew the Western cousins weren't really getting the better end of the deal.

This afternoon, though, I was at work, explaining an online computer project when what I thought was a strong breeze pulled at the edge of our roof line soffitt, or so I thought...so much so, that I actually ventured outdoors to check out the roof.   Simultaneously, another co-worker three doors down from me experienced the same sensation and began to think her walls suddenly shifted inward.  And yet another co-worker four doors from me thought the building had been hit by a runaway dump truck.  Weird, very weird...same earthquake, but three completely different theories to its sensation.  And we were all trying to find proof to support our hypotheses.

Upon reading these thoughts now, though, clearly they were all pretty damn implausible to happen in broad daylight.  However, if you had told us that it was an earthquake that hit our company instead, to a person we would have laughed you out of our roof damaged, wall enclosing, dump truck damaged home away from home.  Some things you can't really believe happened unless you experience it yourself; and sometimes you still don't readily believe the truth when revealed.  The rest of this afternoon's conversations was spent on validating and reassuring each others' reactions...and damn it, the tremor itself only lasted 10 seconds.

That drama subsided for now, the focus for the next few days turns to the 'impending' landfall of Hurricane Irene onto the Eastern seaboard shores.  It's Tuesday as I write this; landfall is expected sometime over the weekend...if it happens at all.  Apparently, as every weather forecaster from here to DC and back down to Georgia reminds us, determining the actual landfall strike zone area is a far less accurate science than predicting where a spinning top will come to rest.  However, some islands in NC are starting evacuation tomorrow morning...not so much because everyone is sure of Irene's path, but because it takes 2 days' time to get these folks off those islands (have to use ferries, one lane roads, etc).  These remote island getaways in NC are 'remote' for a reason...and nothing about them, under the current conditions anyway, screams 'quick evacuation'.

The North Carolina Governor, Beverly Purdue, has made the traditional flip-sided appeal of both being prepared, but also not getting too worked up about this early forecast, either.   And in a telling nod to our tourism economy, she used her famous 'school librarian with chocolate chip cookie'-like tones to also not discourage potential visitors to come into the state these last few days of the official summer travel season.  I honestly cannot remember her ever doing so in any potential weather event in the past, but then again tourism is one of our main industries...and we need to keep everybody employed in it as long as we can.  So actually we're now (1) getting prepared (and in some places, evacuating), (2) not worrying about getting prepared, but (3) still inviting folks on in to come join in the fun.  Bad news is we take Southern hospitality seriously here all the time, and that tradition is always the high card, and so it effectively cancels out (2) and (3) above.  After all, somebody has to worry about the barbecue, biscuits, and greens, damn it.  I just hope that the Gov and all the weather geek forecaster types are correct in predicting that Irene's gonna continue to head out east, and maybe not even come ashore at all...otherwise, we may have a lot of hurricane newbies sweatin' it out.  And that, except for the alcohol consumed at the hurricane parties, does not make for a good vacay. 

With all respect to Gov Chocolate Chip and her advisers, though, I've decided to follow the slightly more universal emergency prep method:  I'm going with the guidelines set forth by the CDC earlier this year...in case of a zombie apocalypse.  (And, yes, this is from the real CDC.  Humour while educating, what a freakin' concept that's so rarely deployed.  Kudos to the authors for making it an internet sensation that many of us, like me, remember to reference in a time of need.)  I figure if my beloved Federal government is already this forward thinking, most everything I would need to do for a simple hurricane should be covered in this cheat sheet.  (Except a chainsaw, which got omitted from their list somehow...one really does need a chainsaw in both hurricane clean-up and zombie survival.  And gloves, really thick and sturdy and bite-proof gloves.)

With that said, I'm off now to the Kroger/Piggly Wiggly/Food Lion/Lowes (I don't shop Harris Teeter, sorry) to stock up on recently marked up hurricane 'foodstuffs'.  I'm going to fight off other tourism-defenders who are willing to take a chance their milk won't sour after we lose electricity in Irene's aftermath. Maybe I should get the gloves first??

Happy non-prepping, neighbours.

Seven O'Clock Pause

Some days, I consider myself the luckiest person I know. I have a dependable job, great friends, positive things I'm working toward, and a devoted group of family (some related by blood, some otherwise, but family to me still the same). But, as we can do from time to time, I get in so much of a rush doing my daily 'to do' list that I miss the important stuff...the stuff that makes me re-think all of those 'must do priorities' lists.

This morning, a profound example: got up late after hitting the snooze button on the alarm no less than three times, hurriedly got prepped and dressed for the day ahead. Couldn't immediately find something I needed for the 'to do' list, so five minutes semi-frantically looking for a paper which ended up by my keys (put there last night, I remembered, so I wouldn't be looking for it today...oi vey). Grabbed my lunch, fixed my lipstick, flung open the door to my covered porch entrance...

and had to stop and just watch as my vegetarian neighbours, complete with their ever-growing brood of offspring, decided to come over for an impromptu brekkie. Some of the kids pranced around and played tag with one another, whereas Mum and Dad just munched selectively on some of our wild strawberries. And time just stood still, as if the only thing that mattered to each was just being around the others. A moment of Nature's Zen, and delivered at just the right time.

And honestly, not only did I completely forget for a few minutes about what all my priorities were, but I also came away wondering if I really wanted to go into work today at all. These ten minutes of peace were the absolute best moments of my day.

Two Years Gone, But I'm Coming Home

For almost two years now, I have been posting on a private blog instead of this one. And while that has worked okay for me, it has essentially become an glorified diary and not a very fulfilling writing and/or blogging experience. And this unfortunate blog just languished during that time, as it was out of sight and out of mind.

After an accidental reminder this week, I came back and looked at this one again and realized that (a) it needs a lot of work, but which I'm enthused about tackling, and (b) I really missed blogging to this one. And I've decided: it's time to come back home.

So as I close the other one down, do some much-needed editing, and then move some older posts from the private blog to over here, please forgive me in the days (or more probably, weeks) to come.

A Mighty Girl's Milestone

Today, fittingly enough as I turned into the drive coming home, my old girl turned 250,000 miles.

And, like anyone who has de-stressed in, cursed in, shivered in, sweated in, ate in, drank in, seat-danced and sang in their vehicle...and, on more than one occasion, prayed *over* same...I am so ever the happy owner. Even if I do take rentals now instead for my out-of-state trips (the newer cars make better gas mileage), I still would not trade my girl in for anything. Sitting by the row of mailboxes that flank our entrance, I actually turned off the engine and petted Her steering wheel with deep affection, whispering sweet words of praise into the really-needs-to-be-vacuumed upholstery. I even got out and took pictures, I was so proud (honestly, you parents of rising first graders have nothing on me).

To the unwitting passerby, I'm sure I appeared as either somebody documenting some sort of accident (at best), or (at worst) someone saying my last heartfelt goodbye to a very dusty Nissan truck. But to those of you fellow owners of older vehicles who have been everywhere in them practically (and in my case, also served as my abode for a brief period of time), you'd recognize me instantly: I no longer see any flaws, but instead the character of every hard-earned dent, scrape, and ding the way. My mighty girl is missing a chunk of Her grill, has rust advancing steadily around Her seams, and makes an abnormally loud clatter when sitting idle with the A/C in use. But to me, though...the me that has known and drove Her since mile 18...right now, she's the prettiest girl on the road.

For that distinction alone, and also in recognition of this milestone, we have a goal in the next few days: a bumper to bumper detailing, complete with wash and wax. And I will not complain once about the cost nor the time needed for service.

Reverb 10: Day 1 "One Word"

There's a wonderful project that I've recently (like, this weekend recently) joined up with...something that seems like a perfect fit for me as I'm coming back into the blogging world and want to chronicle the changes I've been through recently. This campaign of self-discovery is called Reverb 10, and additional details can be found here. You can still participate, and it's free to join! (Hat tip to writer Patti Digh and her wonderful blog, 37 Days, for the suggestion.)

And despite the obvious benefits for me and my writing goals, this process also encourages me (and hopefully my wonderful readers and friends, by extension) to do some real personal cataloging and think about where I am in life now, where I've been, and where I'm hoping to be in the new year to come.

The Reverb 10 process is a series of daily prompts of questions to think and write about, a different one for each day in the month of December. And while I'm unfortunately late to the party in joining up, I plan to do all the days I've missed...two or three at a time...until I've finally caught up. I'm really looking forward to completing this, as well as reading others' contributions.

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December 1 - One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

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2010 word: Stuck. 2011 word: Decluttered.

I choose the word 'stuck' for 2010 because, frankly, that's exactly where I think I am/was most of this year (which is really rather quite humbling to admit, let alone write). I always pride myself on having new adventures and trying to advance my horizons, but the 'new' things have been very temporarily adored this year and the 'old' things just aren't getting it done any more. I'm restless, unsatisfied, and lacking focus...not anxious, not depressed, just suffering a rather long-lingering case of clinical 'whatever'.

To compound this problem a bit, I'm also having a bit of a problem letting go of the 'old', non-working things from my life. For example: I'm not happy with my book selection any more, yet I find it difficult to part with same because I really liked that book once, or I remember buying that book with a friend on a really good day...ad nauseum. The rational side to me knows this 'debate' absolutely makes no sense, but the emotional side to me (also known recently as 'the bored side') is not quite yet ready to surrender.

I could have used the word 'quicksand', I suppose, but that's far too extreme to describe most days and it's not like I feel any rapidly increasing sinking feeling. And, on the flip side, I could have taken the easy way out and just used the word 'bored', but that is far too light of what's gone on for months now. Quicksand implies an emergency state...something that requires immediate outside assistance from a heroic third party to come save my day. Boredom to me, though, is something fleeting...something I should be able to relieve with a good book or movie. 'Should be able to' being the most important words in that last sentence.

That being said, 'stuck' is the most appropriate word for my current year: I increasingly feel the weight of it all holding me in place, with far too many useless items still surrounding me.

Welcome Back, Blogger

Howdy folks!! After a very, very, very long time away from writing and contributing here, I've come back to the blog.

Since I've been away, I've been writing a lot privately in journals and such offline, but am now finding myself in a more 'open' mindset so that I don't mind sharing my personal journey/daily mishaps once more in this format. As I've experienced firsthand, sometimes when one seeks clarity one has to declutter a lot of their mental 'baggage' in the process... so much baggage, in fact, that should have been dealt with ages ago. In this past year, I've shed a lot of that extra mental weight and worry through private journaling...and that has made a great, and very, positive change to my outlook and goals.

I'll be honest: I've missed the whole blogging experience, and I appreciate my friends and others who have kept in touch with me while I've stepped back. In time, I hope to bring over and include some of the journal entries I've done for the past (well, really, two) years.

Many, many thanks to my dear friends and fellow writers/bloggers who have been so supportive of me, and especially for their kind, and rather persistent, words of encouragement.

And, with that, here we go...