My Twister Irene, or how Hurricane Irene made me a better person.

Before Hurricane Irene was scheduled to hit the City,  I prepared for the deluge like many did. Bought sandbags, blew the dust of the camp lanterns, overstocked on food staples. And bought a case of wine.

There wasn't a 'D' battery in the tri-state area and I wasn't about to shell out $600 for a generator that would likely be under water,...but wine? That's a staple that was readily available.  I was all alone in Jean's Fine Wines last Friday.  Just walking the aisles, whispering their  names made me feel normal on the day before I might not have a house. With the exception of an Albarino and a vin most un ordinaire from France, Raisins gaulois, I selected from Italy, the country that  immediately puts me in my "happy place", with names that make me smile.  Fruliano, Dogajolo, Vitiano, Tormaresca, Ciacci Piccolomini and Trappolini.

Make no mistake, I was not cavalier.  I did not disregard the 72 hours of around the clock buzz on every station warning me the 4 horsemen were on their way. I  was scared, but short of evacuation, had done what I could, following my worried-something husband's lead and prepared for the worst....Rolled up the rugs, and moved the furniture on the first floor away from the front door, where we were SURE the water would be coming, packed a "go-bag," rummaged around the basement to find the insurance policies and kid's birth certificates, passports and house deeds. Got medications and extra house and car keys.  Moved the car to higher ground and away from tall trees. But once sufficiently prepared, I surrendered to the Fates, determined to stay up all night and protect my home, show my pioneer stock, like Sally Fields or Jessica Lange in those interchangeable farm-flood movies from the 80's.  With a little help from my Italian friends, I would brave through hell or high water suitably...um, hydrated.

On Saturday night, the kids bunked with us in our back bedroom, afraid that the 100 year old tree in front was too close to their rooms for their safety, but I couldn't sleep and wandered into their room and laid down in the narrow bed furthest from the tree.  I know I wasn't supposed to, but I opened the window so I could hear the shift in the winds and would know when the hurricane was on us.

When the rain finally did come, around 4:30 Sunday morning, the old tree came alive in the gale-force winds and my husband and I went to work, it, clearing the streets from debris so the storm drains in front of the house could handle the water, our best chance of keeping the house from damage. We were eerily calm and I barely remember talking, maybe we were sleep-walking-street-cleaning as we bagged a few hefty bags of flotsam, all the while, mindful of the dangers of the tree.   A few times we ran, sprinting away from it when we thought the winds would bring it down and whene saw that the drains were handling the water, (a miracle since we've been in water knee deep during a 10-minute fall downpour) we quit and let the winds have their way with the place and we crashed on the few pieces of furniture left to fall into.

I am grateful for so much...that my family was safe, that my house and neighborhood didn't sustain any damage, that my husband & I partnered well and didn't panic, that we took Mother Nature seriously, prepared but then left it up to the Fates and didn't over worry.

Under a plea to the gods, Robert and I hope for the best and brace for the worst.  

I am also grateful for my neighborhood wine shop which got me through the day-and-half's anxiety of waiting with plenty of wine left over to toast our good fortune in meeting Irene head on and coming out unscathed.