From Irene: Bedtime

The kids are finally quiet downstairs on their sleeping bag pallets. We opted for downstairs because there is more space than in our room. Besides, if we have to move into the basement, which isn't comfortable for sleeping at all, it's easier from the first floor.

Mama and I are upstairs watching tv and reading computer maps. NYC sounds like a mutant version of itself--no trains, planes, and perhaps later even automobiles (I've heard they're considering ordering cabs off the streets). Here in CT, they've discussed closing all the highways, specifically the Merritt/Wilbur Cross with all its lovely and now menacing trees, and told people not to go out after dark. Otherwise, our governor seems rather . . . amateur. Or perhaps it's the individual character of the state with each town taking charge of preparations and decisions and the governor just saying (I paraphrase) "uh, evacuate if, um, your area has ever flooded." Right. You know, the last time we had a category 1 hurricane, because of course, you were living in the same place, right? Useless. At least our mayor seems on top of things. And we feel relatively safe in that respect, with the town shelter less than a mile away. We're absolutely expecting downed trees and power outtage and localized flooding (though we're relatively high).

Okay, I can't think of anything else to tell. Mama now has cellular service on her iPad so that if we lose power and wireless we might still be able to email through it. Which means I can blog on . . . .

Until then, wishing the East Coast the best possible outcome this weekend. Stay safe, my friends.