Dennis, Part II

After the morning squall line hit we had a nice sunny stretch. I helped my next-door neighbor take his Whaler to the yacht club and get it out of the water. Nice to see I still have backing-the-trailer-down-the-ramp skills. Then we watched unending and unenlightening TV coverage. I even decided to take a jog while the weather held. I made it back to the house just as more dark clouds rolled in, bringing heavy rain. It was of course at that point that my sister decided she needed to board up some of the windows at her house, because local weather celeb Jason Kelly said that Dennis may get back up to a 4. Now it looks like the weather has set in for the duration. Recent predictions have been putting landfall further to our west, though the storm seems to have made a slight northward turn. Keep in mind that the worst of the storm (tornadoes) is actually to the east of the eye. My family is going to spend the night at my dad's office, further inland, but I plan to pass time next door and watch DVDs. More later...

Hurricane Dennis

Yeeeeeeeee-haw!

The first band of storms just hit Panama City. My dad and I got the plywood up just in time. We only covered the windward windows, being cynical locals. Let the recent transplants and Atlanta weekenders board up every surface in sight. We also got all the loose shit out of the back yard and off the porch (no small task). Last night I helped some friends board up their beach-house. In the process, we found that someone had been breaking in and using the place as a f-pad. Nice. Get out the blacklight, PCB CSI.

So my mom's Yorkie is in my lap as I write this, shivering like a Jamaican in Syracuse, NY. The dogs hate these storms. And they just made it through July 4th...

If this is a bad one, I'm sure they'll call it Dennis the Menace. How original. Why not Dracula? My sister believes that by assigning names like Ivan (the Terrible) and Dennis (the Menace), the meteorologists are just asking for bad storms. The catchy-ness of the name acts as manifest destiny. Then how does she explain the severity of Opal?

...water-ski skills, fireworks skills...

Saturday
Time for one of my seasonal visits to the land where I was raised, the Redneck Riviera. Hoping to avoid holiday traffic, I left after dark on Saturday. I arrived in Panama City about 6am on Sunday. A few things delayed my journey:
1) Flat tire - luckily this was before I left, and I live close to the tire center. Chunk of glass removed, tire patched.
2) Baby bird - fell into my fireplace while I was packing. I took him to an emergency vet center on the way out of town. Must be a nest in the chimney. Great.
3) Sleep - I stopped for some shut-eye at the rest stop on I-10 near Lake City. Unshaven and in my traveling tank-top, mouth open and drooling, I was THAT guy.
4) Police Officer - pulled me over in Bristol, on highway 20. Apparently, I zipped right through a stop sign when I was turning onto 20 from 12. He gave me my first ever warning. In the past I've always been stuck with the ticket. That cosmetic surgery must have paid off.

Sunday
Today's big event (other than seeing my family, of course) was going water-skiing for the first time in years. I used to go all the time. In the summer, daily. My dad competed when he was younger. I got fairly good at one time. So, you see... I'm hoping to get right up again like a slingshot.
I go through the ritual: put on the vest, put on the gloves, jump in the water, spit out saltwater, push the hair back, put on the ski, spit, grab the rope as the boat pulls it taut, set myself, and give the thumbs-up. The boat roars. I begin to rise from the water, and...
...the rope snaps.
Spit.
This gives my dad great joy. He rigs the roap back up. Maybe it was just a weak spot. I get re-set and give the thumbs-up again.
Snap.
Spit.
So, very anti-climactic. We'll get another rope and try again tomorrow. I also need a bigger vest. I look silly in my dad's vest. Now reading all this (if you don't know me), you might think I've gotten fat since the last time I skied. Not so. I've just become more, uh, robust. Seriously. I've been working out. Yeah...

Monday
We wake up early and go skiing again. It's 8:30 am, the water is glassy, and few boats are out. I go first. I pop right out of the water. Yay! My elation does not go much farther. Boy, has it been awhile. I was lucky to make it across the wake (slowly) a few times and hold on for one loop of the bayou. I used to slice all over that bastard. Jogging and going to the gym do not prepare you for water-skiing. Only water-skiing does.

The grand event began at 9pm. It was all I thought it would be. You don't really want me to describe the fireworks, do you?

A joke I must share

A very genteel Southern lady was driving across a bridge over the Savannah River one day. As she neared the top of the bridge, she noticed a young man fixen {ready} to jump.
She stopped her car, rolled down the window and said, "Please don't jump, think of your dear mother and father."
He replied, "Mom and Dad are both dead; I'm going to jump."
She said, "Well, think of your wife and children."
He replied, "I'm not married and I don't have any kids."
She said, "Well, think of Robert E. Lee."
He replied, "Who's Robert E. Lee?"
She replied, "Well bless your heart, just go ahead and jump, you dumbass Yankee."

Honestly, I have nothing against Yankees or people from any other geographic region. It's just a funny joke. Overseas, we're all known as Yankees.