Charming, but single

I just wanted to take the time to thank everyone for stopping by and showing their support for all of us Gulf Coasters during this difficult time. I have all of these things to say, but whenever I sit down to write them, I'm just numb. I was sitting out on my balcony last night, digesting an awesome meal I'd cooked for myself and enjoying a glass of wine and I was struck by how lucky I am. So many people I know have no idea where their future is. People are having to make tough choices that will affect the rest of their lives -- should they move temporarily or just get out of the Southeast for good? Can they physically and emotionally handle a tragedy on the same scale as Katrina again? My town is probably going to double in size. This has aggravated some problems we had before -- most notably our traffic problem. There is very little housing left now and the people who do have housing are having to buy everything again. They're starting over. I was in Linens N Things yesterday and people were buying cartloads of housewares. It looked as if people were shopping to stock their first apartment -- only it was adults with children in tow who were having to replace the most basic things, like towels and sheets and pillows and kitchen supplies. Grocery shopping is depressing. The stores have empty shelves because the evacuees need food and the residents who haven't had power for days are having to replace their food. I may whine about corporations like Wal-Mart, but it is an almost surreal experience to NOT be able to get everything you need at a Wal-Mart store. Yesterday they didn't have the oddest things, like onions or salt or lettuce in a bag. And everyone is just milling around with these empty eyes, trying to get what they can from their shopping lists. It is stressful and people are doing their best not to snap at each other over small inconveniences. In the midst of this stress and sadness, I have seen some of the best of humanity. I worked at a makeshift hospital for a long shift and it was amazing how people have responded with donations of both time and supplies. Working at the shelter was one of the saddest things I've ever done. It is something I'll never forget. These people have nothing but a few possessions they've managed to carry for days. They can get some clean clothes and some food and toiletries at a shelter, and these things become incredibly important to them. For many people, Friday night at the makeshift hospital was their first shower in days. They would get cleaned up, see a doctor or a nurse about their ailments -- commonly heat stroke, sunburn, infections, scrapes, twisted knees or ankles -- have a hot meal and then get moved on. We were sending people to housing shelters wherever we could find them. I ran into a girl who had been bounced around from hospital to hospital for a number of reasons since the hurricane hit. She was 20 and she was just beaten down and depressed. She had no idea how she would get to Texas to be with her family and she had been processed by so many people and put in so many lines that she had this tired, empty stare and her eyes were glazed over. We found out about a bus to Texas and I called her father around 5 a.m. to start to arange for him to meet her in Houston. He was ecstatic. He had no idea how they were going to reunite. We put her on the bus around 7:30 a.m. on Saturday morning and hoped for the best. She could barely walk and we helped her load two garbage bags of her only possessions onto a Greyhound. It was a happy way for me to end 13 hours of stress. I didn't go home after that. Instead I went to my parents' house, ate breakfast, cried and slept for about six hours. I was emotionally drained. Saturday night I got some beers with some indefinately displaced friends. I didn't want to think about the shelter or the storm anymore. I dressed up. I wore a cute black flowy skirt with a shiny lavender top and some Enzo Angiolini shoes with an ankle strap. I put on makeup for the first time in days and topped it all off with a fluffy, wavy hairstyle. I watched Sex and the City while I dressed and drank Blue Moon beer because I lost my corkscrew in the process of moving and have two bottles of Pinot Grigio being held hostage by a stubborn cork. I have been to three stores to get a corkscrew. No luck. It was bittersweet to see so many people at one of my favorite bars Saturday night, seeking solace in good friends, good food and a strong drink. Perhaps drowning your sorrows in a cold beer is not the healthiest way to relieve stress, but six days in, a Hoegaarden never tasted so sweet.