Hurricane Ike Approacheth

Here we sit at home on a Friday afternoon. Unusual because I've been at work every Friday afternoon for the last year. But I'm home today because Houston has (quasi-)officially shut down waiting for Hurricane Ike to hit Galveston and start working itself up I-45 through Houston and into our little community of Point Aquarius located just six miles west of Willis. We're about 100 miles almost straight north of Galveston.

We, my wife Pammie and I, have been watching the non-stop coverage of the storm on our local television stations and the Weather Channel. While it is hard core, no-doubt-about-it, how-many-ways-can-you-say-the-same-thing overkill, we are having a hard time not watching. Besides, at some point the power will go out and we won't even have storm coverage.

The whole concept of hurricane force winds seems a bit remote at the moment, mainly because the sun is shining where we are and the wind is barely whispering, but the coverage is all directed at Galveston and the communities within a few miles of the Gulf Coast. And even though the wind isn't even tropical force there, the surf is definitely up. If I gave it half a chance I could be nervous.

I am amazed at how many civilians are still strolling the breakwater down in Galveston. I'm pretty confident they will be wetting their pants before it's all over. Being the cynic I am, I'm amused at this prospect. As the tv cameras show the lollygagging tourists (they may be locals for all I know, but they're still tourists in the sense that they're wanting to see something they don't see every day) I am swept by the hope that the tv camera will catch them being swept away by an unexpectedly big wave.

I am also rather looking forward to seeing the helicopter shots of idiot "hunker-downers" standing on their roofs - or what's left of them - after the storm has passed and the sun is back out. They all had more than ample warning that the storm was coming, and even now, at this moment, most of them could be in their vehicles driving north. The freeways are, relatively speaking, wide open.

Of course this is easy for me to say, 100 miles north. We're as prepared as we can get with the exception of D-size batteries. Pammie forgot to stock them in on one of her trips to Wal-Mart, and when the power eventually goes out, we will be hot AND dark, save for the flickering light of a scented candle.

But for now, everything is cool and I will check in with you soon.