So we had about 10 inches of rain in less than a day out here, leading to some relatively nasty flooding on Thursday. Our street, which gets backed up semi-often, got backed up, indeed, but this time, the water went several feet up the driveway. We don’t think our basement was ever in danger (good, because I sleep there), but still, I had to work from home a second straight day because I couldn’t get out of the driveway. Around midmorning, I took this video of the water from my front porch:
I did get out during the evening to see how bad the flooding was. Well, in 1996, a major flood hit my area, with 17+ inches landing in 24 hours. I remember this because we were up all night moving stuff out of the basement, which actually was flooding this time. And this was the worst flooding I’ve seen since then, I think. The river was just below the viaduct, when it’s normally a good 12-15 feet below. It was rushing terribly fast. And all the river islands were well covered. Perhaps we were lucky that we didn’t get worse this time around.
We had a red sky at night, too:
This is one of those nights where it’s going to be eerily light out after dusk. twitter.com/tj00226/status…
— Tim Horneman (@tj00226) April 19, 2013
Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy. Anyway, enough about the weather. Let’s move on to other stuff.
“Looking forward to your wedding!” the text read.
I was baffled. I’m not married. I’m not getting married anytime soon, as far as I could guess, as I’m unattached at the moment. But there was that text message, from someone I knew, no less.
Clearly, this was a mistake, right?
So I texted back, I fear you sent this to the wrong person.
Whew. She agreed. And a good thing. Because if I’m getting married, I’d rather be the first person to know about it.
Now mildly amused by item 1, I posted a shortened form to Facebook:
…just got a text from someone saying she was looking forward to my upcoming wedding. Wait, what? (I’m not. Unless someone knows something I don’t.)
The secretary of one of my parishes is an old friend (I think we went to kindergarten together in … 1990… yikes, I’m getting old) and liked it on FB. By coincidence, I had to skedaddle over to that parish for a seminar on its organ, which has a lot of digital bells and whistles and neato-torpedo extras. The choir director, when I saw her, congratulated me on my upcoming nuptials. I laughed, realizing my friend had told her what was going on. Explaining what was going on to the other organists present, however, was, er, a tougher task.
My former boss, who is now a friend, was shaken up (emotionally) pretty badly by the Boston bombing, as she had lived there for several years. I felt sad but couldn’t muster much else. It was the same thing with the Texas fertilizer plant explosion. I felt bad, but couldn’t feel much else. Compassion fatigue is a real thing, friends. As a journalist, I read and heard a lot of sob stories over the years, some real, some overdone. It all blurred together, and it makes it hard to feel anything during these sorts of events. I prayed for the victims and their families, of course. But I feel bad, even though I can’t control it, that my ability to really feel in these things is limited.
— 7 —
OK, one more weather-related thing. Because after taking the picture in #3, I immediately thought of this song:
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