Another Day in Paradise

In addition to the cold (for us anyway) and the recurring torrential rains, our county is on the list for Governor Skeletor's emergency declaration after two cases of Zika virus (out of 9 or 10 statewide) were reported here. Not sure what that entails since we already have a very robust anti-mosquito program in our county although its current effectiveness may be negated by all the rain. It does mean that the disease may now spread locally since the most common transmission vector is for the mosquitoes to pick up the virus by biting an infected person and then transmit it by biting uninfected folk.

We are, of course, home to 80(!) different species of mosquitoes, 33 of which think people and/or their pets are tasty, of which 13 can spread diseases among us including Aedes aegyptii, which spreads Zika and Aedes albopictus, which could if it wanted to.

Also, the red tide's back—with a vengeance. Thanks to all the rain (see above), the Corps of Engineers has been releasing torrents of water from an overflowing Lake Okeechobee into our main river washing tons of farm runoff nutrients downstream and into the Gulf (note the concentration of red dots) to feed the algae. The algae then overbreed, their vast numbers causing the red color, using up the available oxygen in the water suffocating the fish. Wave action also causes some algal cells to go airborne where they can cause respiratory problems in people.

The good news is the water has probably been cold enough to discourage the brain eating amoeba and flesh eating bacteria.

Meanwhile, back on land, while avoiding the bears and wild hogs and pythons and nile monitor lizards and tegus, it might be wise to note the discovery of a crocodile in town just visiting the beach. Which, for the record, makes us the only area in the world to have both alligators and crocodiles wandering around.

But, what the heck, come on down for a visit. If the wildlife doesn't kill you a tornado or sinkhole just might!

Still Like a Lion

Another thunderstorm came roaring through yesterday. This one's center was a bit south of us although we did get enough rain to fill the swale (yay, the moat is back!) and roaring winds interspersed with unnerving spots of dead calm.

The radio kept interrupting programming with announcements of severe thunderstorm warnings (as last time, redundant), sometimes as frequently as every three minutes. The announcing voice was robo-generated and listed, with curious and amusing pronunciation, a long and slowly shifting roster of affected counties as the storm moved east.

The tornado warning showed up about an hour into the storm warnings. By then the bulk of the storm was away south between the coast and the airport. Shortly after, the rain stopped in our area and the clouds broke.

The Christmas grapefruit tree required re-righting, again.

I didn't realize another tornado had touched down until I saw the paper today. They don't list the intensity so I assume it was weaker than the one that touched down here last week but it did manage to cause severe, although extremely localized, damage to an apartment complex and closed the airport for a while. And then overbooked the airport as the storm moved east and flights destined for Miami were diverted here.

There was extensive flooding as well and, judging by the sheer number of photographs of the fourteenth hole at the Whiskey Creek Golf Course, somebody lost their tee time and is taking it rather personally.

It also managed to chase a pair of retired snowbirds back to Ohio. Wimps.

The weather folks are trying to get ahead of the curve and are predicting severe thunderstorms with possible tornado for tomorrow.

In Like a Lion

I was watching one of the playoff games Saturday night when I realized the background sound I was hearing wasn't the air-conditioning, which has been off for some time now, but a steady pouring rain. Then the lightning and thunder started.

A cold front had come through earlier. It was sheeting down amid gusting winds so I checked to make sure all the windows were closed. They weren't but the ones that were open were only cracked a bit and not enough to let the rain in. Most of the lightning was comfortably off in the distance, but one bolt did strike close enough to rattle the entire house.

The local weather people (I do not usually watch that channel and have no idea who they might be other than a conventionally beautiful TV couple) came on during a break in the action to let us know about a severe thunderstorm warning for our area (bit late on that one) and a tornado warning (good to know but, since it's pitch dark outside, between the sound of the rain and thunder how will I know if there is one before it hits?) and also to reassure us that their continuing planned interruptions will not mean that we miss even one second of the game (we have our priorities after all).

The storm passed, and so did the weather announcements, before the game was over and it wasn't until the next day I found out, in addition to about three inches of rain, we did indeed have a tornado in town.

Most of the "tornadoes" we get occur during the summer and are little more than glorified waterspouts coming in off the gulf. Mom did get pictures of one once that came ashore and tossed a few cars around.

This was a real tornado. EF2. The news said it covered a distance of over three miles but, if so, it must have started offshore and worked its way through the coastal swamp first because the affected area seems to be only a mile or so long and is only about three, maybe four, miles away from our house as the egret flies. Most of the damage appears to be roofs, trees, cars, fences and power lines although even that they're totaling out at over $6 million. No deaths, fortunately. No serious injuries. Not impressive for any plains folk but, still, it's the biggest tornado in over 60 years here.

As for us, the storm knocked over the grapefruit tree I gave my brother for Christmas but that doesn't count since he hasn't gotten around to planting it yet and it's still sitting in its bucket just outside the lanai doorway. And for the record, yes, I did take the two seconds to tip it back upright again.

Redneck Studies: Consistent Randomness

In addition to my long-standing observations regarding the native redneck's (i.e., my brother's) inability to pursue any project to completion, I have also noticed a distinct tendency toward increasing randomness in his immediate surroundings.

On occasion, and for no apparent reason, he will go through the pantry and move cans and boxes of supplies from one shelf to another. I can't determine if he was actually looking for a specific item since nothing ever seems to be gone or used. They're all just moved. It happens, to a lesser extent (possibly because he hates leaving the door open), with the refrigerator as well.

Similarly, the lawn mower and various other yard implements can be found at any of three or four possible storage sites, not dependent upon where they were last used.

Late yesterday evening, he suddenly began stomping around the house in a foul mood, opening various drawers and going through the recyclable trash in his room and the kitchen. Being the first Sunday of the month, he had decided to pay a bunch of household bills. and now couldn't find them. We're talking mortgage, utilities, storage unit(s), credit cards--the works. He ransacked the house, and then his truck, and then the house again before giving up for the night. I know he was afraid he might have put them in with the other trash paper and thrown them out last week.

This morning he got up early and started rummaging through his truck again, scraping it out down to the floor mats. When I went out the first thing I noticed was a stack of envelopes sitting on one of the lawn chairs by the fire pit he never quite finished installing so I said, "I see you found all your bills."

"No I didn't."

"What's all that stuff on the chair, then?"

"What chair?"

"The lawn chair. There's what looks like a pile of bills and a bag of pistachios on it."

"That's probably the bills." He left off cleaning the truck* and went inside still pissed off but now at himself. Your welcome.

We've had a run of a few absolutely glorious days, warm, sunny, dry and breezy, perfect for sitting outside. I did so a couple of days ago with a book and iced tea, reading and watching the blue jays and mockingbirds fight over ownership of the bugs in the lawn (blue jays are more obnoxious and tend to win), and saying "Hi" to our black snake as she came home in the early evening from wherever she goes during the day (she stopped about four feet away when she noticed me and we acknowledged each other for a few minutes before she made a wide semi-circle to go around and back to her woodpile).

In short, it's been pretty much perfect outside and my brother had decided to do the bills outdoors and got everything set before he went inside, became distracted and completely forgot what he had intended to do and where. He'd walked right by them on his way to his truck and never noticed because, to my knowledge, he's never sat outside to pay the bills before. It was just another random (though thoroughly supportable) notion.

*And will not continue, now, until he can't find something else in the future.

The Naughty Kitties' Reward

So I'm sitting last night with one eye on my laptop trying to get the CS50 shuttle game to work (good news: it does, for the most part. At least, I think, the hardest part is done) and one eye on the football game (I really don't know why this CS50 project is taking me so long) when one of the cats starts repeatedly bumping the toe of my shoe. When I look down I notice the other two right there as well watching her.

I lift my foot and there's a poor little tailless lizard trying desperately not to be seen. It was in such shock it didn't even try to avoid me as I scooped it up and carried it outside.

This is what happens when the weather suddenly warms right back up to the 80s (27C) and we throw open the doors and windows again.

The cats spent the next twenty minutes or so prowling around my feet and chair looking for their prey even though they all saw me pick it up. It doesn't make any sense to them that someone would just throw away a perfectly good lizard.

My brother spread a couple handsful of catnip on the living room rug. Jasmine and Mittens both got high as kites first eating and then rolling in the stuff. Paribanour ate more than the other two but just said "Meh," and walked away.

The MOOC and Me: Destroyer of Time

I have been remiss in posting to the blog, and much else besides, thanks to the latest homework assignment from my on-line programming course.

The last problem set was relatively easy and a great deal of fun: designing a financial services web page. This set, building a shuttle bus "game" is making me crazy. I just know the solution is much, much simpler than I am able to come up with and my Rube Goldberg construction is an ugly mess. And doesn't work. Right now, it insists on picking up only the passenger at the alphabetical end of the list of possible passengers. Which, admittedly, is an improvement on refusing to pick up anyone at all.

The problem is, the course deadline is the end of the year, and includes a final project which I haven't even begun to seriously think about, and I've already skipped over one problem set that was taking way too long and throwing the schedule into impossibility. The syllabus is not clear on the consequences if I can't submit at least a partial final project in time. I have no idea how the kids manage to do this in a 12 week course (with other classes!). I'd be living in the TA's office.

My consolation is that this is my favorite time of the year for food so when I start to get all cross-eyed at the screen I can just sit back with a large mug of tea, a plate of crackers with a wedge of brie and a pear and another plate of dried figs, dates, pistachios and a section of pomegranate. In a previous incarnation or two I was either French or Persian (or both).

The weather has been cold enough lately that the cats have discovered I can provide other services beyond provisioner of food and water and have started climbing into bed with me to absorb the warmth which is fine except that it's impossible to turn over with a cat wedged behind one's knees.

I just bought four pounds of butter and a new jar of cinnamon. Baking time! One batch of chocolate chip cookies is done. Oatmeal raisin is next on the list and, by then, we'll be well into Thanksgiving week cooking.

Balloons Are Up. Dead To Follow

Our Hallowe'en decorations are finally up.

Almost.

The balloons are emplaced and, except for the ones over on the far side of the driveway (which include the headless horseman and the hearse), inflated. We have a couple of new ones including a large orange and black spider with glowing swirly lights in its abdomen. Neighbor Dan has a similar one but its abdomen is white and the swirly lights are multi-colored. I like ours better.

Neighbor Dan has had his decorations up since the first week of October. My brother intended to put ours up shortly after he saw Neighbor Dan's yard but his truck broke (again) that weekend so he couldn't retrieve anything from storage and then his truck was stolen so he mowed the lawn instead which was necessary but insufficient as this is the time of year when the grass shoots up about a foot over night and sets its seeds. Its all getting a bit raggedy already. He finally got around to placing balloons a few days ago.

Our yard still looks sparse compared to Neighbor Dan's but that's mostly because a lot of our decorations are not inflatables: the zombie wedding party, tombstones, dancing skeletons, etc. that really shouldn't be put out too far in advance although there's hardly any chance of rain anymore. Even the TV weather people have officially announced the end of Rainy Season. The days have been glorious, warm and sunny; the nights clear, cool and dry.

We have a couple new zombies, too. Actually, three, I think, plus the dog skeleton. They're the top-half-of-the-body-bursting-through-the-ground type zombies and will go well with the tombstones. One of them arrived broken and when my brother called the company they said they'd received a number of complaints about that one and they would refund his money and he could just go ahead and keep it anyway. That's the way to ensure customer loyalty. The skeleton dog is poseable and is currently leashed to the picket fence along the walkway to our front door. I don't understand how a skeleton can have ears and a nose, but otherwise he's kinda cute.

People have been driving by to check out the neighborhood prior to the pillaging spree this Friday. They seem to be impressed, if they are new to the area, or, if not, satisfied the tradition continues.

Oh, and I voted for the fourth time this year, not that it'll do any good in this district. Maybe in the statewide races.

Steal From My Brother Once, Shame On You. Steal From My Brother Twice . . .

My brother has the learning curve of a lizard.

The police rang our doorbell at 4:00 this morning to let him know they had found his truck. (He was already up having been called by them a few minutes earlier to announce their imminent arrival. I woke up at the sound of the bell.) When they saw who was at the door, the cats all took off like the Angel of the Lord was come to take them to their just reward. We didn't see Paribanour or Mittens again for about six hours.

At first, this particular service--waking people in the middle of the night to notify them of the location of their property--seemed a bit, I don't know, superfluous, since the truck was in the driveway when I went to bed. (Apparently, I don't process too well upon first waking unexpectedly.)

The truck was not in the driveway.

It had been stolen.

It had been stolen and used as a getaway vehicle on a crime spree lasting several hours before being left in a ditch behind the town high school a couple of miles away. Several vehicles in our neighborhood (including, it turned out, Neighbor Dan's truck but not my car) had been entered and pilfered but it was my brother's truck they stole.

Because he left the keys in it.

He left the keys in it! After having his wallet stolen out of the truck only a couple of months ago, he left the keys in it!

So we stood in the driveway, under the eaves of the garage, in the dark and intermittent pouring rain with lightning crashing nearby and the tip of one of Neighbor Dan's palm trees rubbing against an electrical wire in the wind, arcing and sending sparks flying, filling the air with the scent of ozone and burning wood while my brother filled out a criminal complaint form and answered the same questions to each of the three officers who eventually showed up one by one.

They warned him that, although they would try to get the truck back to him as soon as possible, it might take a while if the forensics crew decided they wanted to look for DNA or fingerprints. Also, at the moment they were using the truck as bait, having staked out the area in hopes the perp(s) came back.

As it was, they called at seven to let us know we could come and retrieve it. It was stuck in the ditch, bogged down because of the rain. Neighbor Dan ended up coming by and pulling it out.

The truck works fine and, at first, my brother thought he hadn't lost anything, himself, but on further inspection a diamond ring that belonged to our uncle, of mostly sentimental value, and a check he had out to pay the utility bill, necessitating a visit to the bank to change account numbers, were missing. He added those items to the complaint form. Neighbor Dan may have lost a (full) cash deposit bag from his business. The problem with living in an area as safe as ours is that people get careless.

Let's hope, for my brother's sake, that third time's the charm.

Let's All Get on the Same Page, Shall We?

The local deadtree news had an article the other day noting this year's mango harvest was due to be much smaller than usual thanks to a very wet winter out on the barrier islands that produce most of our commercial mangoes. Some farmers have basically closed up shop and not even bothered to harvest this year.

Of course, the article came out just days before the mango festival and now the organizers are busy reassuring everyone that, no, in fact, there will be plenty of mangoes for the festival, please come on down and don't stay home with your money.

All I know is yesterday's breakfast was yogurt loaded up with an equal volume of mangoes. Lunch included a helping of mango bread pudding. Dinner was a chicken breast over rice smothered in mango salsa. A couple slices of mango bread (with cranberries and walnuts) made for a late snack. Breakfast today was corn flakes covered with chunks of mango. Lunch included another slice of mango bread.  Dinner tonight will be lamb vindaloo with a side of mango chutney and a dish of ice cream topped with chopped mangoes for dessert. The kitchen counter is covered in a layer of mangoes waiting to be peeled and chopped. There are another half dozen+ whole fruits in the refrigerator along with seven containers of prepared fruits (although, in all honesty, some of them are smaller "single serving" size cups).

But then, that's just our one tree. And it's pretty much done for the season, now.

One Close Call

Holy Shit!!

I never want to be that close to a lightning strike ever again!

We're back in the cycle of afternoon thunderstorms and some of them have been pretty intense. Yesterday, I was coming out of the library as a storm approached (actually I was just stepping out long enough to make sure I had my car windows rolled up). The sun was still out although there were massive clouds gathering all around, including right over head. I looked up just in time to see the flash.

It forked into two main branches with a number of smaller ones splitting off even further. One branch arced over the library and the other came pretty much straight down. The crash of thunder shook the building and everything around about while the after-image was still burning into my retina. I could feel the concussive effect of the collapsing air pocket, much like standing close in to a fireworks display.

The crew of Mexican gardeners working on the lawn and the plantings at the base of the palm trees didn't react at all, but then they were all wearing industrial strength earphones to deaden the roar of their own equipment. I'd say that's a testimonial to the headgear's effectiveness.

We had another storm last night, after I got home, which moved directly overhead and was intense enough to freak out the cats. And another one is rolling in as I type. Still, I can't imagine I'll ever get that up close and personal with a lightning bolt again.

Chutney, Anyone?

We haven't had a storm like this weekend's one in over a year. I could tell by the way the cats freaked out.

It was a pretty good one, too. Came up out of the Gulf with howling winds, lashing rains whipping horizontally off the roof, lightning flashing all around and thunder rattling the windows. The kids didn't know what to make of it. They'd never experienced anything close to it in their short lives and sat in the middle of the living room shivering and crying softly. I tried to cuddle them but it didn't seem to help. They couldn't make up their minds if they wanted to be held or left alone.

Their mom, on the other hand, new exactly how she wanted to deal with it, although I didn't figure that out until after the storm was pretty well over. When it had died down to a mere downpour, I went into the kitchen and, while I was chopping tomatoes, the pantry door opened. There was Jasmine. When the storm started she'd managed to open the door, climb inside the pantry and close it behind her. She rode it out in the dark, but at least she was in a confined, dry place which made her happy. If we ever do get flooded out and have to evacuate, at least I'll know where to look for her.

Our low spot out back flooded as per usual but drained away again almost immediately. The only real down side to the storm (aside from a few broken branches in the street) was that it knocked down over two dozen mangoes--none of them anywhere near ripe, yet.

I collected them all once the rain tapered off to a drizzle and they're on the kitchen counter but I doubt more than half a dozen will ripen enough to be salvaged. Fortunately, there are still about twice as many still on the tree.

In the meantime, I'm off to find recipes for unripe Alice mangoes.

But, Then Again, It's Not the Last Minute, Yet

Well, Hurricane Season has officially started as of the beginning of the month and, although the daily rain cycle of last week has broken and the skies are clear again, already the local weather reports have added a special warning-imminent crisis segment just for hurricanes, of which there are none around and only one potential one way over the horizon on the Pacific coast of Mexico.

But, y'know, that named tropical storm could cross over Mexico losing most of its energy on the way and depositing the remnants into the Gulf where they might survive as some sort of disturbance that has a theoretical chance of affecting us. Someday. Maybe. It could happen.

It's never too early to start panicking.

On the other hand, it's been almost a decade since our last real hurricane and an awful lot of people have moved in since then and don't know--or just plain forgot--what a true cyclonic storm can be like. I know we've let our own food stocks slip a bit, and we haven't tested any of our batteries, lights, etc., recently.

My brother got a quote on replacing our roof but that's not something he intends to do immediately so, if we do get hit, we will be under a 25 year old roof.

And somebody official (not sure who) just released a new flood map of the county that puts us under threat for 3 feet of water from storm surge although it's not clear what size storm they're referencing, or its likelihood, or where exactly they measured the three feet from. If it's from the main road we could still be mostly O.K. since the house is built on a small rise (coincidentally, about three feet) above street level.

And now, of course, if we do have to evacuate, we'll need something to carry the cats in.

So maybe a little panic-mongering from the local weather folk is what we need to start prepping after all.

Miscellanea

We're still officially in the middle of Dry Season. (We are also in the middle of The Season, and High Season, both involving tourists from up north and the money they bring with. We have lots of overlapping "Seasons.") So, of course, tthe first big thunderstorm of the year arrived at noon, exactly as predicted, and my brother announced that his truck was dead. Fortunately, just the battery, so we spent a few minutes in the pouring rain using my new battery to jump his.

The sidewalk construction is over (directly in front of us, anyway). Tuesday morning a gang of six or seven came by with the front loader. It was carrying a stacked cube of lawn turves, each like a large flooring tile about two feet on a side. When the scraper went through at the start of construction, the path it made was more a suggestion of where the sidewalk could go rather than the exact line it would take and so the scraped area was a couple times wider than the ultimate installation. This bunch was filling in the divots, as it were, walking along beside the front loader as it crawled down the street, pulling turves from the stack and plopping them in place on both sides of the sidewalk. It was absolutely the largest crew I've seen working on any aspect of this project. When they were gone, the guy with the leaf blower came down the street again al by himself, pushing their dirt and droppings off the road, cleaning up after the parade. Today the cones came down and we are officially out of the construction zone.

The mango tree is covered, engulfed, smothered in blossoms. If even one per cent of them survive to become fruit we are going to be buried this summer. We gave away half our crop last year, ate mangoes every day for six months (mango ice cream, bowls of mango and mixed fruit, pancakes and French toast topped with mangoes, chilled mango salad, sweet potatoes with mango glaze, mango salsa, mango lassi, mango chutney, . . .), and we still have stocks in the freezer.

Saturation Point

Yesterday's thunderstorm may have put us over the edge.

It came on very strong with violent, close lightning (the power went out--briefly--before the thunder hammered through) but didn't last all that long. Nevertheless, it poured while it was here and, for the first time, we have some semi-serious flooding.

Our property does not abut a canal, but there is one at the end of the street. That end of our street was flooded and the entire next street over was as well. I don't know how deep because I had already driven through an intersection which I had never believed to be in a depression of any sort but which was covered by a 50 foot wide temporary lake that rose over my axles and I wasn't about to tempt fate again.

A couple of the canals near us were topping their walls and flooding onto the lawns of the houses backing up to them. The swale around the front two sides of our property has become a moat and the low spot in back is now a pond of sorts. Virtually all of our cherry tomatoes are splitting due to all the water being taken up after the fruit sets. (They still taste better than anything in the store.)

This morning, the streets were clear and dry again although low-lying grassy areas are still covered in standing water. The canals are back within their banks, barely. The ground is squishy to walk on.

One thunderstorm has rolled through already this afternoon but it was a light one. Another one like yesterday's just might be one too many.

Public Service Scare Tactics

Our local public radio station is trying to hawk their (totally useful and really a good idea for when the power goes out) wind-up radio receivers, for which one has to make a hefty donation to the station, by using the line "you know our weather can change from moment to moment without any warning so be prepared."

Uh, no.

This is the most predictable weather I've ever seen (outside of San Diego where they just post "sunny and 68F" and leave it up 360 days a year). The seven day forecasts are accurate. Rainy Season begins within 48 hours of its scheduled start every year. If they say clouds will roll in during the afternoon, the clouds obligingly stay away until after lunch. It may not always be pleasant what with the heat and humidity and general muggy swampiness, but it's virtually never surprising.

Even our worst weather, the stuff for which you'll actually need a wind-up radio, is identified so far in advance that it can be individually named and tracked by computer.

So, yes, get the radio. Be prepared. Stock up. Plan for the worst case. But if you don't, if something goes wrong, no one will believe you if you claim you were surprised.

Stood Up By Chantal

So, Tropical Storm Chantal collapsed before hitting the Bahamas and is now just a "wave."

All the projected tracks had it well east of us, over the east coast and Miami, so we were never too concerned. As it is, yesterday was beautiful as was most of this morning. A very heavy band of dark cumulus rolled in from the southeast just before noon full of threats and promises but continued right on past without fulfilling any of them beyond a little thunder and a quick shower.

Which is just as well since, with all the regular rain we've been getting lately, the canals are pretty well full and the ground is saturated. It's not going to take much to put us back into a flood warning and maybe actual flooding. As it is, the water table is so high each new storm forces the burrowing owls up and out of their dens and onto the handy little crucifixes put up by the protective society.

Downloading Plans for an Ark

Well, the rain keeps coming down in torrents despite promises otherwise by the weatherfolk. We get occasional breaks, long enough to drive to the store or the library usually, but then the skies blacken and the lightning returns and the thunder rolls over and we're back under water again. The mango tree was starting a second crop and between the rain and the wind a half dozen not-quite-ripe mangoes have been knocked down so far. They're salvageable.

The canals are all full to the brink (but they have been for a while now) and we are under a flood warning. The swale around our property and the lower part of the driveway are under water as is the low part of the back yard. Some roads have been flooded although not near us. The swales, ditches and low spots by the sides of the roads, however, are all wet and rising.

The local paper reminds us that we are the lightning capital of the country. A sheriff's patrol car was struck by lightning out on the Interstate yesterday damaging the flasher light assembly on the roof. I'm sure it got the deputy's adrenaline flowing, too.

Also, the mosquito control agency is warning everyone that the continuous storms are not only creating standing water everywhere that will invite increased breeding of our 48 different species of bloodsuckers but are also preventing the spray planes from flying. So, we're on our own for now.

At least the birdbath doesn't need daily replenishing although no one visits it now, either. I did see a dove bathing in the driveway.

Jasmine and her daughters are not fans of thunder especially when the strikes are within a quarter mile of the house as they were all night long the night before last. They're not as bad as a dog would be in similar circumstances but they do huddle together in one big soft, fluffy pile of nervous energy.

And still Bartleby prefers being under the lawn chair beneath the live oak to the comforts (and dryness) of the garage.

Weather . . . Or Not

Tropical Storm Andrea has passed us by but a trailing spiral arm of wind and rain is bearing straight down on us.

Our Tornado Watch, which was supposed to expire at 11:00 a.m., was temporarily upgraded to a Tornado Warning after a waterspout was spotted on the surface of the Gulf due west of us. It moved north by northwest and was expected to make landfall a couple of counties away (where, if it survives the changeover to dry land, it will officially be a tornado) so the warning was reduced to a watch again but now extended throughout the day. Another tornado has just been reported on the ground in Belle Isle off to the east.

(Our tornadoes/waterspouts tend to be smallish thanks to the temperature shear effects of the land/water boundary.)

Our Flood Warning is in place at least into this evening. No one is giving an exact expiration time. The canals are quite full and many low areas (swales and ditches alongside roads and in highway medians) are already under water which is no surprise considering the intensity of the downpours despite their sporadic nature.

We're also under a Lake Effect Wind Warning through tonight but I find that hard to take seriously since most of the winds are southwesterly off the Gulf trailing Andrea and Lake Okeechobee is over a hundred miles away to our east.

Once again the worst of it seems to surround us while we get off relatively lightly.

My brother just went out to buy more cat food. Bartleby, who spent last night perched on her lawn chair in the pouring rain, has at least been convinced to come into the garage to eat.

Schadenfreude. Warm, Sunny Schadenfreude

I'm sitting here with all the windows and doors open, a warm breeze wafting through from the 80+ degree sunshine outside, watching the Weather Channel folks going all weak in the knees as they swoon over Nemo and wondering if I should feel sympathy for my friends posting snow depths and pictures of the building snowpocalypse on Face Book.

Probably.

Democalypse Now!

I'm feeling much better about waiting in line for almost 3.5 hours to vote early Friday. At least it was warm and sunny.

It was with some trepidation that I went to the library today knowing it is a polling place and the parking lot would be crowded. I waited to go until after a very heavy downpour had subsided to a drizzle and found the back third of the overflow lot (which had been retopped and striped just before the weekend) was open. There were over 100 drenched and soggy people outside huddled in line under the dripping eaves waiting to get inside the side door to the community room where the polls had been set up. The storm also caused the temperature to drop a good ten degrees.

During early voting, all ballots were cast at the half dozen county offices and long lines were kind of expected but now, on election day, when a third of the electorate has already voted early and there are 125 separate voting precincts in this county alone, still: the lines.

I blame, in part, the enormous ballot, including eleven proposed state constitutional amendments (the twelfth was dropped for some legal technicality) presented in their entirety in English and Spanish. Also, the fact we are a swing state (although not, this year, the swing state) makes people believe their vote might make a difference and helps to raise turnout.

By mid-afternoon, the line outdoors was gone although the community room was still full.

I don't normally make political predictions but, based on what I'm hearing and reading about people's frustrating experiences this time around, I think next time folks will remember how the governor limited voting hours and the legislature fobbed off their responsibilities to create a monster ballot. Being an incumbent might not be pleasant.