Category 4

[nolapenguin]

This will be my last entry for a while. Hurricane Gustav is supposedly a category 4 now. It's not even past Cuba. It's location is further east than the NHC thought it would be. It's primed to enter the Gulf loop moving at 15 mph WNW.

Mayor Nagin has issued a mandatory evacuation beginning at 7p tonight. The city has asked all tourists to leave. The processing for busses out has been suspended and people can just show up and go.

I've tied down the playhouse. I've boarded some windows. I'm about to empty my shed, then pack the van. I haven't touched my clothes or work stuff.

We're beginning to panic. We're looking at our house like it's the last time.

I pray this is a drill.

It's not.

My NOLA peeps? Get out. Now.

Comments

[minipeds.livejournal.com]

We're looking at our house like it's the last time.
God, I've been doing that all day, I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling that way. Good luck, I hope everything goes smoothly for you.

[nawlins-penguin.livejournal.com]

Everyone was feeling like that today.

When I left at 8, my 'hood was a fucking ghost town.

[dethcherub.livejournal.com]

we'll be leaving at 4am-ish...hotel check in isn't until 4pm Sunday...we're getting ready to go put the car at the Galleria...we're all sick to our stomach...have quite a few neighbors staying...crazy!

[nontradstudent.livejournal.com]

good luck, i'm thinking of you. be safe xo

[nawlins-penguin.livejournal.com]

Thank you! As soon as I'm north of Jackson, I'll start to feel better.

Or course, a mojito by the pool wouldn't be bad either.

[defenestr8r.livejournal.com]

Watching helplessly from afar, again. Here's hoping the evacuation is as easy as it realistically can be, and completely unnecessary.

[nawlins-penguin.livejournal.com]

Optimist: I'll be home Saturday, grilling sausages from all over.

Pessimist: I'll be mopping up till Christmas again.

[evningwithgrace.livejournal.com]

Keep breathing my friend. Leaving late tonight to avoid traffic.

[nawlins-penguin.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Grace. I think you've already bailed, but keep safe.

[greysil.livejournal.com]

I hope that you and your house make it thru alright.

[nawlins-penguin.livejournal.com]

The house? It's just stuff.

Us? We're together. That's enough.

[greysil.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it is just stuff... But as someone who recently lost a hell of a lot of stuff, I know that it can be rough.

[nawlins-penguin.livejournal.com]

The last go round, I gained some valuable perspective on my life, my loves and...well...my stuff.

I'm a collector, right? Some may call me a pack rat, but there is a method to my madness. I have a few huge collections: vintage lighters, weather reference guides, marbles, and, of course, penguins. That's all and good, and I add things to it willy-nilly. But then I have the smaller collections, groups of five or ten objects. Those all have one common denominator: a story. For every story in my life, there is an associative object, and vice versa. Some of the bigger collections have that, too. But my point is that there's a lot, relatively speaking. And I always shuddered at the thought of losing all these objects.

Then Katrina comes along. And I really did lose a lot of those "things." But in the soggy remains, I found illumination, by way of a small alarm clock.

You see, I was separated from Tracey then. And the pain from not seeing my kids was something fierce. This one little clock opened up to reveal a picture on one side, of Tracey and the girls, and it had a voice button that would play my Vivian, four years old, saying, "Happy Birthday, Daddy. We love you."

Sounds kind of corny right? Cheap little plastic voicecorder that couldn't keep time worth a shit. In all of the horror in the aftermath, shrugging off the destruction of so many personal artifacts, I broke down over the loss of that clock, a precious time capsule with my first child's voice.

You know, I realized that all these other things, all that material preservation, didn't mean a thing to me when compared to the love delivered from a sad little alarm clock.

Gustav may decimate New Orleans. And it will hurt deeply, not just for the loss of my house, or whatever, but for the human connections that keep me there. I have my priorities in order, though. My head is clear even if my heart is heavy.

Why on earth am I getting so fucking emo? Jeezus. I need a joint.

[greysil.livejournal.com]

I know where you're coming from, though. I lost thousands of dollars worth of books and toys in the fire, including stuff I'd had for 10 or 15 years.

What bothered me the most, though? Two ceramics, made by my grandparents, that I painted when I was a kid. Just about everything else I can replace, and a lot has been replaced. But those two ceramics can't be replaced...

I was a pack rat, too. Moving out of my apartment, I started trying to break that habit, and then losing almost everything I owned went a lot further towards breaking.

Hurricanes and otherwise running from your home and all you own are definite emo moments.