this is when those touch-typing lessons come in handy

Right now, I can't even see what I'm typing.

I lost a contact lens this morning at work, and it was only then that I realized how smart it would have been to have stored a back-up set somewhere in my office (they always say that hindsight is 20/20. Haha! That seems especially appropriate here.) Because my vision is so poor, I had to take the other lens out as well--otherwise I would be walking around all day feeling like I have some sort of crazy vertigo.

So how blind am I? Let's just say that the font on my computer screen has to be THIS BIG* in order for me to read it while sitting here (without having to lean in really close). And those letters are actually still really blurry to me, but I can at least tell what the words are.

I had to get a coworker to tell me if the goopy stuff on the salad bar was tuna salad or chicken salad. And it turns out that the squash casserole I thought I was dishing onto my plate was actually corn casserole. Still good, though. (Ironically, we usually have a lunch menu, but today was "What You See is What You Get." Haha! Joke's on me.)

So, I'll be sitting here, squinting at my screen, trying to identify the people who walk past my office (I think that one was a man), attempting not to eat meat accidentally, and probably sending emails with lots of typos in them...until my husband comes to take me home from work. (Lord knows I can't drive myself like this. I'd be up under a semi truck before I even realized it was in front of me.)

Maybe now is a good time to consider Lasik.

*For some reason, when my post publishes, this font doesn't show up as big as it does in the composing phase. So just imagine that those words are in font size 72.

unfortunate proof that fortune cookies lie

So I take my little sis Nai'Imma out for Chinese yesterday, and the message in my fortune cookie reads:

"Be generous, and the favor will be returned to you within the week."

And I think to myself, huh. Well, I feel like I've been pretty generous this week, trying to support flood relief efforts with both my volunteer time and my money. So maybe this little fortune is a sign of good things to come.

And then I get home to discover that someone has busted apart our fence (literally, ripped boards off of the wood fence) so they could get in our backyard and steal our new lawnmower.

I think I want a refund on my fortune.

the flood, part two

(for part one, scroll down to previous entries)

As I continue to think about all of the things I have seen over the past week, that word overwhelming keeps popping up. The overwhelming waters. The overwhelming destruction. The overwhelming loss and grief.

But overwhelming can be positive as well, and I have seen that connotation of the word in action, too. The overwhelming spirit of these ravaged communities. The overwhelming volunteer response. The overwhelming outpouring of donations and support.

Lots of people complained that the national news was ignoring us. The lack of coverage was a hot topic for many Facebook/Twitter status updates and blog posts. And yes, it was a little frustrating that something so huge, so tragic (so, well, overwhelming) for Nashville was barely a blip on the national news radar. But at the same time, it didn't really matter that they didn't care. We were taking care of ourselves. People were pumping water out of their houses and then turning around and helping pump water out of their neighbor's homes. Within a couple of days, Hands on Nashville had more than 15,000 people sign up to help with flood relief. 15,000 local people signing up with a local organization to help our neighbors that were affected. With that much local love, it really didn't seem as important whether or not someone in California knew about the situation. Because we all knew. And we were taking care of it.

One of Todd's out-of-state friends commented that people in Nashville were being "drama queens" about the situation. From his perspective, we were all just whining about a bunch of rain. So, I guess that was one negative effect of the lack of coverage--many people outside of Nashville didn't think the situation was that bad...because if it wasn't on the national news, it couldn't have been that big or that serious, right?

But...it was. And it is. And it will continue to be for awhile. Rebuilding will take time. Because of the amazing efforts of our incredible community, lots of work has already been done...but our city still faces a long road to recovery.

Right now, we are in a waiting period. Waiting for all of the scrap piles to be picked up from the road sides. Waiting for the houses to dry out before rebuilding can begin. Waiting for inspectors to determine what is salvageable. Waiting for aid to come in before supplies can be purchased. Waiting for our water treatment plants to be fully functioning again. Some people are still waiting to see if their loved ones lost in the flood waters will ever be found.

It will take some time before things return to a sense of "normal". For a long time, these flooded families will cringe when they see rain in the forecast. For a long time, we will all eye the Cumberland River suspiciously, wondering if it could turn on our city again. For a long time, we will remember the images we have seen, and the neighbors we have hugged, and the tears we have shared with those who lost so much.

And for a long, long time, we will know how fortunate we are to be a part of such a strong, supportive, loving, giving community.

May 1st, 2010. A flood of water...that turned into a flood of support...that gave rise to a flood of hope.

If you would like to help, visit the following links:

The Nashville Red Cross

Hands on Nashville

The Community Foundation

Donate Nashville

water conservation

Things I've learned this week:

1. You can shave your legs with 2 cups of water.

2. You can shampoo your hair with 4 cups of water.

3. You can go over a week without washing dishes if you get take-out most nights.

4. Your dogs love you even more when you're stinky.

5. You can use a lot less water when your hot water heater isn't working.

the flood, part one

Dear God. Where do I start?

The last week in Nashville has been surreal. Overwhelming. Unprecedented. All of these words have been used by others to describe what has happened. And yet, no words can describe what has happened.

Saturday night, I stood under a tent in the rain at a crawfish boil, trying to eat as many of the little buggers as possible, cognizant that the oil spill in the gulf would likely obliterate the chances of having fresh crawfish again anytime soon.

On Sunday, the concern about crawfish seemed a distant memory.

At first, we were concerned about our own little plot of land. We noticed we had two inches of water in the basement. Then, an hour later, it had become 15 inches. And rising. So I began calling every store that might sell sump pumps, only to find that they were sold out. Everywhere. And that's when I began to realize the problem was widespread--and our basement was not the only thing that was flooding.

Then, there were the images on the news. A portable trailer floating down I-24. The Harpeth River rising to meet the school where I work. The houses covered in water. And rain continuing to fall. And water continuing to rise. And cars in water, people in water, houses in water, landmarks in water.

It was the train-wreck you couldn't turn away from. Except that it was the train-wreck happening in your back yard. You could sit there watching it on the television, but you could also feel the pain echoing right outside your front door.

First, it was the 100-year flood. Then it became the 500-year flood. Then some even dared to call it the 1,000-year flood. But no matter how many years were attached to it, one thing was clear--it was a major flood that was affecting thousands of people right now.

I admit, the first two days, I spent transfixed to the TV. I watched the footage--almost trying to believe it couldn't be true. Especially on Monday, when the weather was sunny and absolutely gorgeous--it was the perfect spring day. But devastation was just two miles away. And that beautiful sun was dancing upon the very waters that were causing so much destruction.

Then, on the third day, I went into the heart of the beast. After the waters receded, I went to help some co-workers who lived in the neighborhoods that were featured on the local news stories--the neighborhoods where you could only see the roofs sticking out of the water.

Driving down those streets felt like driving through a really terrible miles-long rummage sale. Every household had piled furniture, clothing, appliances, etc. out by the curb. No matter what significance these things held or memories they represented, they were now contaminated goods. Trash. The sadness in the air was heavier than the humidity.

And that's when I realized--you can see the images in the media--you can think you understand the gravity of the situation. But until you meet those families. Until you get up close and personal with the destruction. Until you see the baby clothes covered in slime, and the photographs morphed into abstract watercolors, and the antique family furniture propped on the trash pile.

Until then...you have no idea.

(to be continued)