SIDE SALAD - Everything crunchy is good.

IVAN THE TERRIBLE?
TRY IVAN THE RIDICULOUSLY HUGE STORM
THAT WILL KILL US ALL.

I won't say we're in panic mode. Not yet.
We're close. We're so close, we can wave at fear from across the chasm of paranoia and have it wave back to us. But we're not in a panic yet.
That doesn't explain why I was at the grocery yesterday at 8 a.m. buying supplies for a hurricane that was still, at best, 5 days out.
But I wasn't alone.
There were other people stocking up on water. One cart had nothing but water and Lay's potato chips piled high as Gibraltar.
I now officially have enough water to irrigate the Nile. But that's okay. I can always take some back if I need to.
Trucks are going down the highway with sheets of plywood in their beds. Gasoline tankers are starting to fill the streets and refill service stations. Groceries got their first shipments of milk and dairy and meats yesterday afternoon. Every one of them in town had to throw their perishables away because of power outages. It was spooky to walk into Publix and see no milk. Well, they had soy milk. Not even a Category 4 hurricane can force me to drink that crap.
The ridiculousness of the storm is starting to inspire some gallows humor. One e-mail running through the Net shows Ivan't forecasted path - which just happens to form the shape of a hand flipping a bird at the state.
Last night at the Van Halen concert in Tampa, (details and photos to come later), Sammy Hagar got onstage and said, "Because of that fucking hurricane, we were stuck in New Orleans and I drank myself stupid." Which, of course, elicited huge screams from the crowd. "People told us, don't go to Florida,'' he said. "I told them, "They NEED a concert there now more than ever.''
Right on, Sam.
Then I got this one yesterday:

The forecast track fills me with dread, quite honestly.
The line heads right up through, oh, MY BACK FREAKING YARD.
Hmmm... maybe if I protect my house with stacked cases of water... hmmm.
Then my mom gets into the act. She send me a note with an illustration attached and writes:

Please don't consider me an enabler, (blog heh, heh). Just wanted to share.

The thing she sent:

Thanks, mom. I feel better now.
Then I get a note from Willie Drye, author of Storm of the Century: The Labor Day Hurricane of 1935. Willie knows a thing or two about 'canes. He writes:

Ivan's barometric pressure reading as of Thursday a.m. is 27.19 inches. Hurricane Andrew's barometric pressure at landfall was 27.13. If it drops below 27.00, it'll be in the company of such monsters as Hurricane Gilbert (26.18, I think), Hurricane Camille (26.89) and the 1935 Labor Day hurricane (26.35).
It's real hard for these things to hold on to this kind of intensity for very long. When they get this strong, they usually start going through eyewall replacement cycles, i.e., a new eyewall starts forming around the existing one, and that has the effect of a noose that chokes the thing down a few notches. And it'll probably lose some strength going over Cuba. But when it gets into the Straits of Florida, I'd say all bets are off. The water there is very, very warm, prime hurricane fuel, and about the only thing that'll hold it back will be eyewall replacement and/or upper level windshear.
God, I'd hate to be on the bullseye for this thing.
Later,
Willie

Posted by Jeff at September 10, 2004 08:06 AM