After about 2 collected hours of sleep last night I feel as fresh and sharp as a bar mop. It’s probably because the Vision Board I’m attempting to start is going to have a beautiful sunrise image on it so that I will sleep better and be up and cheerful for more sunrises. I decided on that addition to my board just yesterday, and considering I can’t get my printer to print out any of my Visions, I think last night’s 8 hour wait for the glorious start to this day is a real testament to intention-setting.
That, and I’ve got a few things on my mind like non-GMO labeling, some friends who completely ditched me lately, what the hell my next career will be, and let’s face it – the fates of Lester Holt, Al Roker and America’s other fine weather people… because hurricanes are really, really, really windy. And I’ve got proof.
Usually our meteorologists stand in front of a map, explain their weather predictions and we grasp the weather concepts ‘sunny,’ windy,’ rainy,’ ‘cloudy,’ grab our sunscreen or Kate Spade umbrellas as needed and head out the door. Not so with hurricanes. Hurricanes are really, really, really windy. Don’t believe them? Feeling bored with this particular hurricane? Enter modern media’s Actually-in-the-Weather Men and Women who ditch their cozy news studios for battered beaches and bulkheads like a team of Navy Seals with their foul weather gear and Elvis hip-grinding, straight leg into the wind stance that they must teach at major network career-building seminars.
So sure, I like to see a little of the action as the storm approaches, but I get it. Wind, rain, flooding. I’ve got a good sense of it, and now I advise everyone to go inside for a hot toddy. But after seeing Lester Holt take a beating Tuesday night, I had the tube back on yesterday morning to see him out there still, with his stiff leeward leg, all 8 feet of him catching major air, forcing jocularity as he anticipates the next big blast and educates us once and for all what it’s like when it’s really, quite windy and rainy.
This can’t be necessary I told my husband. We get it right? Al Roker doesn’t have to be out there morning, noon and night – human flotsam and jetsam in 80 mph winds creating some artificial (but potential) emergency just for our weather theater amusement. Then again, we all saw what happened to Ann Curry so I understand Al’s motivation.
Nevertheless, I had convinced myself that Americans could most certainly understand wind and windiness, even lots of windiness, and that the networks could scale back on flapping their weathered people from a flagpole until I came across this story which clearly proved me wrong.
The mayor says he couldn’t get his sail down, but that would mean he couldn’t get any three of his sails down and that, well.. most likely means he waited for the hurricane’s arrival to try to bring them in or something similarly insane. Anyway, he had hurricane winds with full sails up, and was rescued from the boat that proceeded to sail itself into a power line. I’m tempted to say that he was hurrying to get to the RNC, but for now my plan is to keep my blogging politics to GMOs and other gross food issues (in which Obama is culpable in my opinion). My vision board will also have a 3rd party on it. Right next to images of a Burberry raincoat, my made you laugh, made you cry memoir book jacket, and a 36′ hurricane-dodging Jeanneau with memory foam in the v-berth. Sweet dreams.