A Bit Breezy, 1998
Another year, another hurricane. Or
two. But, when I consider the alternative – snow – I think I’ll
stick with the hurricanes. We were nailed by two of the most
interesting storms of the season. Georges and Mitch. My fingers are
positively twitching over this subject. The Keys were a mad-house
before during and after the storm, of course. But it’s the subtle
activities you tend to overlook in the chaos that interested me.
It’s the quiet ones you need to watch. One man’s disaster is
another man’s gift from Chango (Santaria god of storms).
On an ordinary day in the Florida
Keys, you can’t trim a tree in your yard with out first applying for
a permit. Depending on the tree, you may or may not get a permit to
trim it. I have neighbors who are out at 2 in the morning with chain
saws hacking down mahogany trees and Jamaican Dogwoods with giddy
abandon, dragging off tree carcasses in the dead of night to insomniac
mulch-ers who stand ready and waiting to crunch those endangered
arborols into itty-bitty-bits. For these people, Georges was a
god-send. After the hurricane passed, no tree was left unscathed.
Perfectly healthy trees with nary a limb damaged by the hurricane met
an ugly end at the hands of owners given free reign to clear away
storm damage. The squirrels were completely traumatized by it all. The
birds are rebuilding. But, sadly, I can now see the façade of homes
that probably haven’t seen the light of day in twenty years. And,
they need a paint job.
Dave is afraid of heights. Yes. Yes.
I know he’s a pilot. It’s these types of charming perversities
that keep me fascinated. That pretty much covers everything related to
storm shutters and their installation on our three story house. He
saved the boat.
Tropical Storm Mitch, we scoffed at.
What could be worse than Georges? Well, a tornado? Or five? The kids
and I were driving home from Miami as Mitch was crossing the Keys (the
schools had closed for the storm and Dave and I did a kid-switch in
Miami) when the second tornado dropped down to the right and behind
us. It lifted a Semi-tractor trailer truck up and away from us three
cars back and rolled a huge tree up and over our front bumper. Very
fun.
Tragically, one of the snakes
escaped during Georges. We have no idea where it is now, but, we found
a recently shed skin in the orchid pot. This is the difference between
real pets and snakes. A cat (real pet) gets loose in the house and you
can generally find it. The cat requires food and will seek you out -
whether it likes you or not - when it gets hungry. A snake will make
do. If the snake is big enough, it will make do with a cat.
Fortunately, this snake wasn’t that big and both cats are accounted
for.
Enough about storms. This year, we
discovered Soccer. Lauren and Jon decided to play Soccer. I had no
idea.
Lauren looked adorable as a
Full-back, waiting to delicately kick the ball to the Forwards. All
the little girls with their pony-tales swinging and cute little
outfits - I was a entranced. How could I have missed this wonderful
nuance of civilized suburbia? I was charmed right up until a girl
twice Lauren’s size tackled her head-on and flipped her, end over
end. She landed on her face! As I was rushing to comfort my precious,
delicate angel, Lauren’s teammates were whacking her on the back
with wide grins and declaring it - the tackle of the season!
"That was AWSOME!" And there was Lauren, eyes glowing
through sniffly tears, soaking it all up like a hamster noshing on my
best pair of shoes.
Jon earned the nickname
"Dominator", because every time he got the ball he scored.
He was usually pulled from the games after the second quarter to give
the other team the illusion of a chance. Impossible to teach a child
good sportsmanship when he’s reduced a sport to a complete crush. We
thought he had Chickenpox just before the last two games of the
season. My hands trembled as I dialed the coaches phone number to give
them the bad news. "That’s it. It’s over. Season’s
over!" Turned out to be impetigo - thank god. A potentially
deadly disease, but, he could play soccer as long as he was on
antibiotics. Hallelujah.
I am still in shock that children
that tiny can be so amazingly ruthless.
Both kids teams won first place for
the season. I am a complete wreck.
For those of you hanging by a
thread, waiting to hear more tales of the Tropical Thing (our 34’
Mainship II Trawler), we sold it. That’s the good news. Now we own a
30’ Scarab, center console with twin 225 Johnson outboard motors. A
"serious" fishing machine. We haven’t named it. Well,
actually, Dave did name it but I’m too embarrassed to repeat the
name in public.
Next subject.
Dave, in an effort to keep himself
entertained, now that we can no longer count on the Puerto Rican
lifestyle to do so, has taken to "Rod-Wrapping". This is not
an X-rated term, though it should be since it costs an obscene amount
of money. He bought a fishing rod wrapping machine and is making his
own fishing rods.
Since there is no possible way you
can understand the true horror of this development, I will elaborate
from a feminine perspective. Picture your wife lamenting that ready
made clothes are not only grossly inferior in quality, but far too
expensive. Now picture her suggesting that you buy a device that
"makes" clothing to custom specification with very little
skill involved. She does the expected Song & Dance about
convenience and cost savings, with the added benefit of a better
quality wardrobe, yada – yada – yada. You buy it, hook, line and
sinker. For anyone thinking that there is no love in a relationship
after 13 years, read on.
The device costs more than your
entire wardrobe budget - for the next three years. The materials
required to assemble the clothes are only sold at a specialty shop, at
which you will pay full retail plus a "You are too dumb to keep
your money" penalty . . .er. . .I mean, mark-up. She is ecstatic.
You gain a few moments of peace. The first outfit emerges from the
device at the comparative cost of a used car. (Interestingly enough, a
blow torch is involved at some point in the process.) It’s an
adequate covering for the human form, but not worthy of Channel. So,
you make polite noises and pretend that this is actually the second
coming – and with any luck, it might just be. Now she has to make
clothing for everyone. Friends and family happily front the cost of
materials from the specialty shop. The hours she spends running the
device keep her out of other, more expensive past-times. You justify
the expense on your tax forms as "Entertainment". Everyone
is happy. But if you do the math, you will find that last years
"Entertainment" expense was half this years
"Entertainment" expense. And, if you are a betting person,
I’ll bet you that the five most frightening words in the civilized
world have suddenly become, "You know what we need?"
Kind of makes you appreciate a good
hurricane. Or two.
Happy Holidays from the Tropical
Convergence Zone!
Love,
Cindy, Dave, Lauren, & Jon
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12/20/2008 10:33:34 AM
