Two years ago, only a few scant weeks after Jen and I moved into an old, creaky house surrounded by old, creaky trees, hurricane Isabel flew through our neighborhood and knocked out the power. The two of us hunkered down on our mattress in the living room (this was before we’d accomplished anything upstairs) and and waited out the storm by candlelight, hoping we wouldn’t wake up in bed with the neighbor’s car. It turned out alright, though a family down the street had their house crushed by a tree (and almost wound up getting crushed themselves.)

I suppose, since there were dire predicitions of disaster earlier this year, that I got a little callous with Katrina. I also figure because I wasn’t watching as much TV this past week, I wasn’t getting the breathless “Storm Warning Updates” by the chuckleheads on our local newscasts. I was dimly aware of the hurricane and its aftermath, but it was only last night, sitting in front of CNN and watching footage of the disaster, that I really understood how fucked up the Gulf Coast actually is. Jen and I talked about making a donation to the Red Cross (which is apparently the best thing to do right now-they can’t handle canned goods or delivering supplies just yet) and we’ll get some money out to them in the next day or so.

My heart goes out to the folks in Louisiana and Georgia. God bless, and good luck.