I don't have the proper gut reaction to the weatherman's images of white spirals hurling toward the Atlantic coast. You know, like, natural conditioning. See a dog bear it's teeth, run for your life. See a rattlesnake on the path, run for your life. See a bee flying at you, run for your life. (Just me?)
See a hurricane on the television screen, buy a weeks worth of canned goods, board your windows, and hunker down in the basement.
Except, I usually open the windows and or sit on the porch or forget to even watch the weather. I don't advocate this approach.
I have no faith in the hurricane predictions. Those big white swirls and I have a very rocky relationship. I like big storms. I like the wind and the rain and the anticipation. I even kind of like the threat of destruction. (Other people's destruction, obviously.) But toooo many times I've been promised destruction and got a delightful fall shower.
And this time Irene was meant to blow us out and instead here outside of Boston we got a little rain and a little wind and a very quiet day of forced apartment mate bonding. Also known as "Shelter in Place," which is apparently the proper term for "if the campus police catch you outside you'll be escorted back."
Hope you all are safe and warm as well!