Moving on.

OK, I swear this'll be my last hurricane post for awhile. At least until my parents are settled behind their own front door again, and then I'll let you know how happy they are to be settled behind their own front door again. I don't know whether that front door will be on an island or not. But, I hope wherever it is there's a computer with an email account behind it, cuz I'm missin' my mama and our daily, multiple checking-ins.

So, to keep this from being a hurricane-only post, I'll give you a link to these lusty babes. I will have numb toes for weeks after one wearing, but they are so worth it because they make my feet look so very pretty. I was determined to sport a pair of Mary Janes this fall and these were the most logical of the bunch ... trendy and cheap. There are equally stunning numbers at Target and all over the place, but I like the truer red of these and the big ol' clunky heel.

I think I'll wear them here. Tix for the two-day Austin show went on sale today at noon and I bought mine at noon-oh-one. It's as close to New York at Christmastime as I'll get for awhile.

Hurricane post follows ...

So, my sweet sis-in-law is seen here visiting her SLAB of a beach cabin on Friday in Crystal Beach. From aerial shots, we thought there were no posts left. But, in glass-half-full spirit, LOOK!! Parts of posts! With the paint still on 'em!

Those other cabins in the background had a much higher elevation ... 14 ft. off the ground in some cases. Our little cabin on Seadrift Drive only had 12 foot pilings. And some accounts I've read had the water at 10-12 ft. before the "real" storm ever hit. That flag is flying RIIIIIGHT about where MY outdoor shower used to stand.

She dug around for hours and hours and found lots of unbroken plates and dishes. None hers. We were mostly Styrofoam people on our beach jaunts. And those who dared use the "real" dishes and the "real" coffee cups had to face our wrath. But, there wasn't ANYTHING to claim in the area of her slab or across the highway or in neighboring lots. Nothing. Now, some of you might say, "It was a vacation home. A playground. You asked for this by building here. Real people lost their very HOME. Some, even their lives." And I'd agree with you. My parents were among those who lost a home. BUT, in this "island playground" of a house were 25 years of memories. Memories of her parents who bought this cabin. Parents who are now gone. And who are missed intensely, daily.

And next door to this cabin/now-slab on Seadrift lived one of the almost 400 people now missing. She'd lived next door for most of those 25 years. The widow of a decorated war veteran. Master to Jock, the black, overweight dog. Smoker of cigarettes and drinker of, well, almost anything. A simple and sad existence. And here's where the guilt sets in.

We weren't very nice to her. Initially we were. But, the booze and the tall tales began to wear on us. There were always our kids or our guests around and we never quite knew how to explain her. She was intensely lonely. We never quite knew if she was telling the truth. She showed us the dress she was to wear to the White House. She told us she was a pilot. For a while she worked on one of those off-shore gambling ships. Every day 'bout 4 she'd head off for the beach for her walk and "happy hour." When we first met her, she'd walk to the surf. Dog in tow. Lately, she'd taken to driving to the end of the paved road and parking her car just shy of the sand. Driving onto the sand meant you needed a beach parking permit. You have to pay for those. She wouldn't. My sweet brother-in-law "loaned" her his trash can. Mowed her grass. Asked her on Sept. 11 to please follow him off the island. She wouldn't. That day, I've come to find out, was her 70th birthday.

Last July 4, her son came to visit. We had never seen her children. Ever. She was so. proud.

It is sickening to think what her last hours must've been like. Now, this is assuming she DID attempt to "ride this one out" and isn't holed up w/ a crusty sailor somewhere. That is entirely possible. But, her car is pictured rolled over and beat up and soggy. And it's too sad and personal to post.

So, what I'm thinking is this. My sweet sis-in-law had two of the most gracious and loving parents there ever were (except for mine :) and according to her, they took care of this beach neighbor like she was one of their own. Delivered leftovers to her door and always welcomed her knocks at their door, no matter the hour. Regardless of how her lifestyle clashed with their own. All behavior aside, they welcomed her. Cared for her. I don't think we always did that. In fact, I know we didn't.

So, there is comfort in knowing that for all the years she spent alone, longing for family and companionship, she now has it in heaven. Her brave husband. Jock. And two of the finest beach neighbors one could ever have. One day, we should all be so lucky.