Waiting Game

Every day, we get a little more hopeful. Perhaps in the end, we'll come out of this with just a ruined backyard and a few unanticipated bills to pay. That, and a host of new friends, and that wherewithal inherent to anyone who has endured life's most galvanizing moments.

We have lost weight, but gained heart.

[The other day Mike took his jeans off without unbuttoning them. I laughed what is left of my a** off.]

The dam continues to spew ever-increasing flows in our general directon. I believe the output today is around 135,000 cfs. We remain tucked safely behind the clay barrier that is plugging our bay, and a dike that hems our neighborhood in against the river. The de-watering pumps that were pushing water out of our part of the river into the main channel at a rate of 8,000 gallons per minute earlier this week have been quiet for several days.

The water level has receded from our backyard, and we've heard nary a burp from our sump pump lately.

I understand that just under 800 households have been evacuated, and certainly there's evidence of the river's wrath around virtually every corner. Two streets away from us, a family simply bulldozed their damaged home over. The Jetty Beach neighborhood, which we can see from our house, has been completely deserted.

The good news is that even in the main channel, the water is not rising at the forecast rate, giving hope to some who had, days earlier, given their homes up for lost.

So we wait and see. We try to do "normal" things. Get a haircut. Go for a bike ride. Plant some flowers. Sign up for a triathlon. Work an 8 hour day and try not to feel guilty that your sandbag blisters are starting to heal.

The community leaders, National Guard, Corps of Engineers, construction companies and engineering firms have done what they can to protect the town. Neighbors have moved each other out of their homes, and built walls, and prayed for eachother.

It seems to be working.