I grew up in Tornado Alley in southern Missouri, braving some really horrible storms and wall winds that we all knew were really tornadoes. When my childhood home of Joplin, Missouri, was decimated earlier this year, I felt Mother Nature's wrath echo in my bones. When my parents send me pictures in the winter of sheets of ice and trees turned into beautiful and dangerous pieces of Mother Nature's canvas, I cringe and remember what Nebraska winters were really like. But when news of Hurricane Irene started flowing in, I couldn't make myself concerned or worried.
I don't know. Call me crazy, but having survived wall winds and tornadoes and Nebraska winters, the weather and I just don't pay much attention to each other.
I stayed up late last night watching the news on repeat, not because I wanted to, but because it was the only thing on. Watching Brian Williams uncomfortably banter with the local News 4 crew was, well, uncomfortable. I slept through just about all of the rain and damaging winds this morning, waking up late afternoon in order to find a lot of tree branches and leaves downed, but not much else.
And now, I'm mostly lamenting the fact that nothing -- absolutely nothing -- is open to cure me of my boredom. Ho hum. Ho hum. What to do?
I curse you Hurricane Irene, for your lack of harshness. I would have rather you washed New York into the ocean. At least then we'd all have something to actually write about.
Note: I'm not trying to minimize the loss of life during Hurricane Irene in VA and NC, but let's be honest, the situation in NYC was a little ... unnecessarily intense.