Cindy

Two a.m. this morning: I was dreaming that I had gotten all this commando training, including the ability to fight in complete darkness. I was running around an empty building that reminded me of Six-One-Six, the old Memphis disco, and I was being followed by a rat that someone (maybe Sonya) had sent to keep an eye on me.

I woke up. It was hot. And dark. The power was out, and the wind and rain were lashing the apartment as they howled through the night.

Hello, Cindy!

Sonya had pulled out the big flashlight and was rummaging around for batteries to put in the radio. I knew where the only D batteries in the house were: inside John's Ocean Wonders Aquarium. I'd taken it out of John's bed months ago - it might help him to escape if he used it as a step - so we had to find it. Sonya knew where it was, I knew it had batteries. Williams Family - 1, Tropical Storm Cindy - 0.

So we listened to the genuinely weird early morning A.M. radio until the news at the top of the hour. Cindy ashore in Louisiana, 70 mile per hour winds, flooding, death, apocalypse, etc. There was nothing else we could do. Occasional gusts of wind would make the windows bulge. Sonya went to the grocery store last night; we were worried we might lose all the groceries. Drama!

But the power came back on at seven-thirty this morning and I went to work. John's school was closed so he and his mother stayed home. Some trees are down, and 250,000 were out of power. But we're fine.