HA! Erin, like we're afraid of you! We scoff at your paltry winds and rain...

Just because we all got complacent those NOAA guys had to fix our wagons and sic a Tropical Storm (Erin as she goes by) on us.

Hey NOAA, I get it. You're Chicken Little and we all blew you off about the sky is falling.

Okay you woke us up, now call back your storm. Tell it to sit, wait, lie, and play dead.

I think the Rita-strength hurricane threat was a little over the top; I noticed even the news media didn't take you seriously. I mean, probably half of the area is all, "Erin? Erin who? And NOAA? Who's that? Her husband?"

That storm? With its paltry 40 mph winds, rapidly approaching land just south of my town? It's leaving the Happy Hurricane Zone of the Gulf. That means the power and force it needed to pick up? TOO LATE BABY!

So HA! I laugh in the face of your storm. HA HA HA HA

It wasn't going to happen anyway because I employed my super secret anti-hurricane magic, also known as Preparing for the Worst. My flood insurance is paid up, the tree at risk already fell, I've stockpiled essentials in the house (water, batteries, flashlights), and my important documents are in grab-n-go mode. I even have an official little Evacuation and Preparedness checklist (typewritten).

You see? No way was this going to be a hurricane and hit here.

So, while I was buying water I grabbed the makings of a happy little cocktail we Gulfies like to call a Hurricane.

What do you mean do I know Dean? Dean who?

Copyright 2007 Julie Pippert
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