Friday, September 9, 2011

Rosie Is Pissed And Maudlin And Could Probably Use Some Sort Of Chemical Intervention.

Rosie must admit to you. She's been having a tough time since Irene. Sorry to keep harping on a hurricane, but this has affected me greatly. Not really monetarily - that's the least of my worries. Yes. I lost stuff. But like I've said, it's just stuff. Glad to be rid of most of it. But there's a downside to this. I've sorta become an emotional wreck here. And that's not who or what I am. The only thing I figure it can be is the constant stress of picking up the pieces, cleaning the pieces, and putting the pieces back in their proper places. Or throwing the pieces out. Which is mostly what I've been doing. I really lost nothing. Everything I "lost," I still have in my heart. You know I love my garden. I can certainly rebuild that. But there's a certain feeling I have that's hard to shake. I can't explain it. It involves physical, emotional, and mental stress. And it's all balled up and resides inside my shoulder blades and neck and it's making me really bitchy. I'm quite quick with the nerves. And please, don't even look at me the wrong way. I got a couple of comments on a recent post about the Aftermath of Irene and its impact on one particular Hatteras islander, Joy Crist, who chronicled her experience in her Island Free Press column, "How I Spent My Summer Evacuation." It is a MUST READ. Here are the two comments to my Aftermath of Irene post and my response:

Post a Comment On: Kitchens Are Monkey Business

"Aftermath Of Irene."

3 Comments - Show Original Post Collapse comments

Anonymous Anonymous said...

How do you think the county will ever convince anyone to leave the next time?

September 8, 2011 12:13 PM

Anonymous Marion said...

Incredible article. Reminded me of when you evacuated with infant daughter H., Rosie the dog, and maybe Annie the cat, and said, "Never again".

September 8, 2011 1:52 PM

Blogger Rosie Hawthorne said...

Anony, they haven't convinced me in years. I don't listen to them anyway. I watch the storm and make the decision myself. The county is only covering their own ass. Marion, that was in 1985 right after we first moved here in 84. We were new and just did not know at the time. The hype of TWC. The constant err on the side of safety. It's always crying wolf. When I see a wolf coming, you can be sure my ass will be outta here. Otherwise, I'm staying here to take care of my property. Now, if I lived on Hatteras or Ocracoke, that's a whole different ballgame. I'd hate leaving, not knowing what's happening to my home, and then being unable to get home. That's devastating to me. This is just a small part of my irritation with the media. They flail in the wind on the beach. This is plain idiotic. Yes, we know the ocean stirs up in a hurricane. Gee, I didn't see one media person in Hatteras. Go figger. Why don't you come over to this neck of the woods - soundside and canalside. Watch the water rising at an alarming rate and watch it start bubbling into your home. Watch it rise 3 feet on the ground floor. Watch your pots and pans stored downstairs float in the muck. Open the forgotten box of your mother's and grandmother's cookbooks with handwritten notes and all the 3 x 5 index cards in the little metal boxes with your mother's recipes. Find that forgotten box of your 16 x 20 photographs from 30+ years ago you brought back from your mother's home. Look at the damage to our homes and our beautiful gardens. Look at the piles and piles of debris littering our streets. Look at all my neighbors who lost their cars. Look at the people who live here and are the soul of this place. Look at the powers that be that allow tourists back onto our fragile strip of land before we've had a chance to clean up our homes. And these people still need to go to work if their work is still there. And the tourists are allowed in and start calling the rental companies bitching because their rental home is a mess. Better yet TWC, stay on the damn beach. You seem to take great pleasure in our destruction and despair. We don't want you here.

September 8, 2011 10:18 PM

You bottom-feeders sicken me. Rosie rant over. Thanks. I feel better.


Lori K said...

Thinking of you....((hugs from Michigan))

Anonymous said...

Rosie, you have PISD (Post Irene Stress Disorder). In some states, people suffering from PTSD are often prescribed medical marijuana with amazing results (or so they say). You should also consider a relaxing massage, including your feet.

Rosie Hawthorne said...

Thanks, Lori.

And Anony, please send me Dr. Feelgood's number STAT!

SweetPhyl said...

Amen Rosie! Wouldn't it be great to lodge a protest, on camera, the next time the Weather Channel shows themselves on our sandbar?
I have a bit of survivors' guilt as I live a coupla hundred feet from Bay Drive and my storm cleanup consisted of picking up a pinkie size branch and calmly placing it in my trash can. We never even lost power. Yet, the end of my street, as you so gracefully documented, is a war zone. Guilty and helpless...other than contributing some stuff to the local drives for the devastated Hatteras folk, and pitching in where I can, I haven't been able to do much. I AM biting my tongue when I hear guests complaining about the excessive sand on their beach walkway, My new mantra is "They help the economy. They help the economy." I wish you well and hope you'll take a deep breath and look forward to your Fall's sure to be a winner. I promise to buy ya an EXTRA LARGE martini when our paths cross again. Godspeed!

Marilyn said...

{{Hugs}} Rosie. I agree with Anonymous' diagnosis of PISD. Schedule a massage and take time to pamper yourself.

Rosie Hawthorne said...

No massages here.
Got to clean, clean, clean.
I'm startlingly bi-polar right now.
And it's disturbing to me.

I collect the energy in the morning to do what needs to be done,
then I have an astonishing crash around 1-2 PM. Dizziness. Sinus pain. (Mold?) Nausea. Actually puked today.

Sorry. TMI.

Rosie is Aberzombie now.

Rosie Hawthorne said...

Sweetphyl, we need to get together some time.

Margaritas on me!