It's the second straight day of gray skies and never ending rain here, and what was Hurricane Ernesto, which is blowing through here as I type, is now known, appropriately, as a "depression". The only thing at my house that's indicative of a major system blowing through is a little standing water at the end of the street. Other than that, it's just a lot of rain. What I didn't know until my Dad called with his Weather Channel update is that mere miles away there are structures being blown apart and thousands without power. Who knew? Besides my dad. And the people at The Weather Channel. And everyone in America who was watching The Weather Channel at that time. You know what, I don't want to talk about this anymore.
     Whenever our area gets mentioned by a Weather Channel meteorologist, I want to cheer like people at a rock concert when the performer mentions the city he's playing in.

Bill Keneely: "Well, it looks like the storm is centered near...HAMPTON ROADS!"
(Ecstatic cheers)
Bill Keneely: "Probably just over...SUFFOLK!"
Me: "YES! YEEEESSSSS!"
Bill Keneely: "In fact, they're probably seeing the bulk of the rain and wind right over...ROUTE 58!"
Me: "I LOVE YOU BILL KENEELY!"

     I can't help it. The Weather Channel is in my blood. My parents have been completely fascinated by it since its inception, so I can remember days as a kid when The Weather Channel never went off. My parents don't have cable anymore, so when they visit me, The Weather Channel stays on almost the whole time. They're like junkies going on a binge after trying to go cold turkey. Luckily, Mom and Dad were at a hotel today, so they could keep up with the happenings of my area. My local forecast - accurate and dependable - from my dad.
     My parents always react to weather. I don't want to say overreact, because maybe everyone else in the world is so jaded that they under react. (I'm just giving my parents the benefit of the doubt here.) Let me put it this way, when there's a thunderstorm, all the lights get turned out, all the power cords get unplugged, we don't take showers, we don't use the phones, we use the toilet only if we absolutely have to, and we sit with candles lit listening to a battery-powered radio. A tornado watch was enough to put us in the hallway with blankets and flashlights. Unlike most locals around here, we fled town at the threat of every hurricane, packing up all of our valuables with the expectation that the Category 2 hurricane was going to blow our home away, and bidding a teary farewell to everything we knew and loved. OK, maybe that last part was a little overdramatic, but you get the idea. Despite living most of my life in Virginia Beach, I never actually weathered a hurricane until I was married. I was a little shaken when Mike told me we weren't going to leave. "What do you mean? We're just going to stay here and risk death?" I"m proud to say that I risked it and lived. Yeah, I'm a fearless renegade now.
      So, at any moment I expect Mom or Dad to call with some sort of weather update. "Are you watching? Did you know you're under a flash flood warning?" That's OK. How else would I know what's going on? I guess I could watch The Weather Channel for myself, but I've gotten used to the individual attention. Until I get personal on-air shout outs from Jeannetta Jones ("It looks like a lot of rain in the Hampton Roads area, not so much over your house, Lori"), I'll stick with this system.