ninanevermore

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Now that Corpus Christie is in the clear, and Hurricane Ike is currently projected to travel right over my house, I would like to point out to him that the good people of Port Arthur and Beaumont, Texas are very experienced at living through hurricanes, where as the people around me are not.

You see, Ike, I have some issues with you making a direct hit on Galveston Island: I have never visited Moody Gardens, and I really want to. If you wash away that amusement spot, as well as The Strand (where the locals hold Texas' Mardi Gras celebration and the Dickens on The Strand festival at Christmas), I will be very put out indeed. I'm fond of the island, even though the gulf waves are more murky rather than blue* and the whole place tends to smell a little like dead fish. I've got good memories of Galveston, and I'd like to add some more good memories of it in the coming years

As for this thing about your eye passing right over my house 100 miles inland, I'm not pleased about that one bit. You are projected to be a Category 3 storm by the time you make landfall as I try to sleep tonight, and there is a good chance your winds will still be hurricane force when they reach me. My husband says there is no need to board up the windows, but I sure would be happier if we did. As far as we know, the airport is still making him come in tonight, which means I will be weathering the storm alone with an almost 4 year old child.

Seriously, Ike, consider Beaumont. Please?

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*The muddy color of the sea water in Galveston is not the result of pollution, like many people suppose, but silt from Mississippi River further up the coast. The waters get clear again as you move toward South Texas. The water in Galveston is polluted from ships that sail into the Port of Houston dumping their ick into it, but that pollution takes the form of the occasional tar ball on the beach. Don't touch a tar ball if you see one, wondering "Gee, what is that round black thing in the sand?" If you do, you will never get that stuff off of you. I learned this the hard way, on a day when the story of Brer Fox, Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby took on a whole new meaning for me.