So, as I drove to work this morning, though a gentle misty little rain–the kind of weather that’s a little depressing, a little discouraging, I counted my blessings. Not wanting to sound like a revival meeting or anything, let’s recap, shall we?

1. My house is in one piece.
2. The only water in my house is in the plumbing.
3. I actually still have a house.
4. My family is safe.
5. Our personal treasures have not been destroyed by rain, shredded by wind, or pillaged by looters.
6. My dog is safe and dry and fed–and I know where he is.
7. I slept in an actual bed last night.
8. My state has not been declared a Federal Disaster Area.
9. I didn’t need a boat to leave my house this morning.
10. By the time Katrina is in my neighborhood, she will likely be nothing worse than a thunderstorm.

I could keep going, of course, but you get the idea. I cannot believe the devastation down in Mississippi, Louisiana, and Alabama. The images on the news are so frightening, and the worst part is knowing how much worse it must be in person. Cameras cannot adequately capture such devastation. And behind every flooded house, every road-turned-into-a-river is personal catastrophe. Not just everything you own, but also your neighbors, and your neighbor’s neighbers; the people on the next block; the people on the other other side of town. The next town over. The one beyond that. Between the rain, the wind, and the storm surge (and let’s not forget that much of this happened at high tide) . . . I cannot imagine. But I do know that the price of this storm is going to be unbelievable–and I don’t just mean the national pocketbook.

Although, for the record, my infamous neighborhood Getty station is charging 13-cents more per gallon today than it was yesterday.

Now, you’ll remember that yesterday I posted a link to the Red Cross, in case you wanted to help. There’s no question that there are all sorts of things necessary down there today. (And tomorrow. And next week. And next month.) I know that I feel like I want to do something–and I don’t have any loved ones down there . . . but that doesn’t matter. It’s a humanity thing.

I saw a couple segments on the news last night, though, about pets. Most shelters do not allow pets, and so people had to either (1) evacuate early so they could bring their pets with them, (2) leave the pets home alone and hope the house doesn’t flood or fall down, or that they don’t starve before their people get back, or (3) stick it out at home with the pets and hope the house doesn’t flood or fall down… None are exactly good choices (but then, it’s a bad situation all around)–but inevitably, there end up being hundreds, thousands of cats and dogs as well as pigs, cows, sheep . . . you name it, basically, left stranded and unable to fend for themselves–if they haven’t drowned from being left chained in the back yard (shudder). Take a moment to read this list from Noah’s Wish on ways to prepare if this situation ever comes up for you–our animals rely on us to keep them safe. And if you’re anything like me, you would rather risk your own life than desert your dog. (I think you’ve all noticed that I’m, um, rather fond of Chappy.)

Now–all that said, I could segue into chatter about knitting or spinning or the cute thing Chappy did yesterday, but . . . it’s just not appropriate. Not today. Again, my thoughts and prayers are for the thousands, millions of people down on the Gulf who are struggling and grieving today. I’ll chatter tomorrow.

• Tags: General, Weather • Permalink:Oh Dear God //