(no subject)

On his flight to Spain for fieldwork (six weeks worth) brian1789 managed to get upgraded to first class. He earned it.

He earned it through tens of thousands of miles flown in the past year alone -- many hundreds of thousands over the course of the past ten years. Through hundreds of hours spent on planes and in airports and rental car agencies. Through days -- weeks -- spent away from home and family. Through Little League games and back-to-school nights and band concerts that had to be missed because he was needed in Washington or Houston or New York or Devon Island or, the past few years, Madrid and Rio Tinto.

He loves his job. He is good at his job. And if/when we get our act together and make it to Mars, the drills he's working on may well be right up there too, either in their present incarnation or otherwise. His diagnostic work on SETI helped prevent a fire that would have destroyed it days before deployment. If you fly in and out of Hartsfield International Airport, you may spend less time on the taxiway and runway, because of work that he has done.

I often complain about his travel schedule, because it can be wearing to be a single parent of three boys. But I am very proud of him, and I think, given everything, this might be a good time to acknowledge exactly how much of a toll all of this takes on him.

I know its selfish...

I know there are many people on the Gulf Coast at risk because of Katrina. I know that, and I am concerned about their welfare.

It's just.... I can't help worrying about the Tabasco plant on Avery Island.

(no subject)

mactavish tells one of my very favorite religious jokes.

Katrina

Sometime yesterday, I checked on Katrina, which at that point was a low Cat 3. I filed into the "Significant Hurricane, Won't Hit Mom" file. (Some time ago, I figured out that obsessively following hurricanes was bad for my mental health.) After seeing all the flurry of activity on my friends list about the storm, I checked out the Weather Channel.

Wow. They're using the C-word.

I grew up in hurricane country. And in that area of country, there is always one storm that's spoken of with fear and trembling.

Camille.

The most intense storm to ever hit the U.S. My parents moved from Mississippi to Florida in January 1969, so we were not there for her. My sister, who was a nursing student at the University of Mississippi Medical School in Jackson, was. She heard the stories, saw the refugees from the storm. And the stories were horrible. People refusing to leave, hotels crumbling with people in them, apartments collapsing. Families being wiped out. Years later, when my family drove along the coast between Mobile and New Orleans, I still remember my Dad pointing out shells of buildings that had been destroyed.

And, at one point, they were saying Katrina was almost as intense (in barometric pressure, if not in windspeed). Dear God. Fortunately, they think she will weaken before she hits, but still...

I have a soft spot for New Orleans. I was born in Louisiana, I have a sister buried in the Metairie cemetery. My favorite comfort food is red beans and rice. I am sad that the city will probably be directly hit, and that there will loss of life. The city is too vulnerable to even a small hurricane, let alone a storm like this.

I don't have anyone directly on the coast -- my closest relatives are in Jackson, way inland. Depending upon the storm track once it heads inland, they could be looking at significant flooding risks. But I find myself still worrying about this storm. I am keeping everyone along the coast and in the city in my prayers.

(no subject)

I'm awake. I should have been asleep an hour and a half ago. I have been obsessively watching the hurricane coverage. Sort of this sense of possibly history happening.

I need to go to bed.