Orange state

Just as I crossed the Florida line, around sunset tonight, there was this big, orange billboard off to the left.

Nice touch, I thought, grasping for anything pleasant after all the crap around Atlanta: Five lanes to two, three lanes to one, hours (which felt like months) creeping along at 5 m.p.h.

But that billboard was of course the moon rising, and the timing was exquisite.

Lord knows what's happening with Fay (though we're still in the center of the cone as I write), but what's happening with me is a car-trunk full of things I picked up as I left: raisins, a hand-crank radio, nuts, skillet meals (thank you Suburban Propane; all I need is a match for the cooktop), a mini-case of chips and stuff, and plenty of hurricane cassoulet, a.k.a. beanie-weanie.

When I checked into the motel in Ocala tonight, and showed the desk lady my driver's license, she was surprised that I was going to, not coming from, the storm.

I mentioned the house, she asked a lot of questions about it, I told her a good many things about it, and she understood.