:: Huge Sigh ::

One of my former profs asked me what it is about me that attracts hurricanes. I wish I knew.

I woke up Saturday to Ashley saying Nate's boss had told him to get out of the city ASAP and head up to the base near Memphis. She said I had two options: come with them, or come with them. Needless to say I had to think long and hard weighing those options. We had a not unpleasant drive and after getting turned around in Memphis and going about twenty miles out of our way, we got to the base at about 1 a.m. We slept in REALLY late and then went and got Chinese food. Had a bit of a run-in at the restaurant with the people not wanting to let Reba in. I kept my cool, which is pretty admirable, I think, considering my stress level was at about six at that point. I'd been thinking a lot about what this hurricane was going to do to my life.

OK, in the grand scheme of things, my losses are nothing -- some clothes, a few books, a bed. But it wasn't the material things that I was (am) worried about. All I've been thinking about is my degree. What does this mean for my career? At this point, I think it's fair to say that the Fall semester is a wash -- literally. I feel better now that, as 'Wela was good enough to say at least three times to me on Sunday, this is a temporary setback, that after a little while we'll get back into it. I'm fortunate in that I don't have any experiments going, that I have no samples that require subzero maintenance. Some of my pals aren't so lucky. Sure, I have many journal articles that are probably now soaked, but the Higher graced me with the foresight to catalogue them all, and those catalogues are on the laptop I brought with me.

But on Sunday, with my unused placenta shedding at a crazy pace, I couldn't see that clearly. When we stopped at a Kroger store for munchies, I sat in the van, watching the rain steadily come down and knowing the worst was still yet to come, and I cried. And cried. And cried.

I can honestly say that the only time I've felt worse than that was when my sister died. I felt lost and powerless in the face of that amazing force. Yeah, you get warning and you can get out, but that doesn't make the devastation easier. I have friends I can't get in touch with. I worry about them, and I feel for the ones who've lost so much more than me -- their entire homes, their lives. I remember feeling shocked and awed when Andrew hit Miami in 1992, but that's nothing compared to what I feel now living through it. I'll be happy if I never have to go through anything like this again.