And what to say, really? 

It’s hard to find any words for this devastating hurricane.  I haven’t watched much of the t.v. coverage because it only makes me feel more overwhelmed and helpless and angry at the pathetic failure of our government relief system and the very worst of human nature.  From today’s New York Times front page:

Outside the Hyatt hotel next to the Superdome, scores of tour buses in ankle-deep water waited to evacuate people who had been living in and around the stadium. "It’s been hell," said Donnieka Rhinehart, 26, a nursing assistant who said she had lived in the stadium with her two small children since Monday. She said she saw a rape and heard that a girl’s throat had been cut.

Brad and I gave our donation to the Red Cross and the Humane Society.  You do what you can.  Anita Taylor from NewsGator who I met in Paris in April has gone to Houston to volunteer there. 

I think there will be plenty of finger pointing and enough blame to go around (twice), but don’t necessarily think that will change anything the next time a Category 4 hurricane comes around.  Watching a silly action movie yesterday that takes place in Miami and kept thinking how Miami would be devastated by 140 m.p.h. winds and remembering Hurricane Andrew which directly caused only 26 deaths.  Katrina is something else entirely, more like the tsunami on Boxing Day, which has caused over 300,000 deaths.

I  did think this comment by the person in charge of the military task force was especially egregious, even among so many egregious official statements. 

And a thought for the day:

No man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.   -John Donne, poet (1573-1631)

I love the first day of the month, and especially love September.  I think it’s my very favorite month of all.  It’s that back-to-school feeling.  I still think it’s time for new school supplies, new shoes, a new chance to not be the shortest kid in my class, (which didn’t happen until I got to college).  This always feels like the beginning of the year to me, not January in the midst of unchanging winter.  My birthday is this month, and lots of friends and family members have birthdays this month (Cecelia, Martha, Kent, Anita, Nancy, Katie, Jenny) and wedding anniversaries (Cheryl and Dean, Laura and Daniel, Sundee and Matt).  Lots of celebrations and gift giving and happy thoughts.

Happy September 1st..

It’s not quite 8:00 and I’m ready for bed.  I’m not adjusted to the pace of life here yet, and I’m tired.  I drove my car faster today than I’ve driven in more than two months and saw more traffic, and people, and buildings, and stores — and everything.  I’m having sensory overload.  My brain is over stimulated, like a kid eating Cocoa Puffs.  Things move much more quickly here than in Homer..

Finally managed to leave the sanctuary of our home this afternoon.  We drove to Broomfield to visit sister Wendy and her fiance Stacy, who are doing pretty well considering that Stacy starts his chemotherapy next week.  It was great to see them and have big hugs.  My nephew, Drew, has finally grown, which he has been waiting for since he was about 10.  My niece, Morgan, is taller than I am and a lovely 16 year old.  We watched some of the real life horror story that is New Orleans with them, and laughed together some about silly things, which was great.  Brad and I then went to CompUSA for iShuffle accessories, which is to Brad what the Neiman Marcus shoe department is to me.  We stopped by the Dairy Center for the Arts to try and see some our art which is on loan to them for a fun exhibit, but it was after 5:00 and the gallery was closed.  We could peep through the window and see the art sideways, but we’ll have to go back during art hours. 

Then we reached our real destination — sushi at Hapa on the Pearl Street mall.  There is sushi in Homer, but it’s a small sushi bar in the back of a too-authentic Alaskan bar, full of smoking drinkers.  The sushi is lovingly crafted by a single person, which makes things sloooow.  So, I am officially happy to have access to the multiple excellent sushi restaurants in Boulder.  Tonight was a classic Boulder evening with the temperature in the mid-70’s and the sky perfectly clear.  There are a lot of young, fit, attractive people here, all walking by in small tank tops and smaller shorts.  Delicious.  And the food is delicious, too.  We had new style sashimi with jalapenos and cilantro and spicy edamame and white tuna rolls.  I love Boulder!

I sat outside under an evergreen tree to eat my lunch of toasted hemp bread with garlicky hummus.  This bread is a tapestry of seeds.  You can just tell that it’s good for you.  The sun and the sounds of our cascading terraced water feature are so tranquil and restorative, and the dogs are playing with each other and running around hunting imaginary chipmunks under the rock borders of the flower beds.  I learn so much from them about being in the present moment.  Trying to be more like them.

I take only what I consider to be the bare necessities to Alaska, which is still a couple of generous toiletry bags full.  It’s a delight to come home to my vast array of bottles of things like exfoliating peppermint foot scrub, papaya masks, rosewater spray tonic, Lush bath bombs, five or six different nighttime eye creams, and a plethora of makeup.  I do pause to consider the reality that I haven’t needed any of these items for the past two months, and might not really need them at all; but that thought passes.  I have a very sensitive nose, and love good smelling smells and probably have 30 different perfumes, ranging from single note florals all the way to the complex and mysterious.  Maybe I’ll wear a different one every day for the next month.  I’ll choose the scent of the day, right after I wash off my green avocado moisturizing mask..

One of the many fun boxes waiting for me to return from Alaska contained my new correspondence cards from Crane’s.  I love formal script fonts and heavy card stock.  I made a radical departure for me, really unorthodox and crazy — and used GREEN ink.  Getting wild and dangerous now.  The inside of the envelope is flecked with little bits of green grass that look like dill or herbs and feel all springtime.

Went for my usual walk to the small reservoir a couple of miles up the dirt road past our house this morning with one of our golden retrievers, Kenai.  There really isn’t as much oxygen here as there is at sea level.  Whew.  Puff, puff, puff as I walked slowly up the hill to the reservoir.  I threw a stick into the water for Kenai, who loves to swim.  We’ve used the same stick for several years.  Each time I wedge it back into the exposed roots of a gnarled pine tree and it manages to stay there.  It’s becoming a family heirloom.  I love doing the same walk over and over.  I notice something new every single time, either because my gaze falls on it for the first time, or because the plants are changing and the creek is changing and everything is always changing.  This morning a blue heron flew along the creek as we approached, long and sleek and silent.  Walking back up the quite steep driveway to the house, which is located at 6,250 feet above sea level, I was really looking for some more oxygen, as Kenai ran mad circles through the meadow, nose down, happy.

Red-eye flights are hard on the system.  We left Alaska last night around midnight and landed here in Denver at 6:30 this morning, giving me about 4 hours of very light sleep.  I managed to stay awake until around 11, catching up on email and admiring the voluptuous September fashion magazines, and then just completely crashed.  Put on my pajamas and went to sleep in the guest bedroom until about 3, when Brad finally succumbed and came to sleep, too.  Now we’re awake, but not very energetic.  Brad’s theory is that he likes red-eyes because he doesn’t want to "lose" a day in airports/airplanes.  I understand what he’s saying, but I just lost a day to that strange altered state called exhaustion.  Definitely don’t know how parents of newborns survive.  I could see my driving skills decline remarkably with fatigue after just one night of this nonsense.  As we drove through the park this morning on our way home I noticed that I was driving about 10 m.p.h., which isn’t even over the speed limit.  Definitely not my usual way..

It is hot here, and dry, and a little bit brown; but the sunshine is wonderful and the endlessly blue sky is a relief after a lot of clouds in Homer.  Our house and landscaping are beautiful, the dogs are big and hairy and happy, the piles of mail and magazines beckon alluringly.

It’s good to be home.