My dear friend Josh, his young dog Loki, his wonderful parents Tim & Lucia and their sage-like dog Chris were in Lavallette on the Jersey Shore this week. They came up here to Saratoga Springs during a mandatory evacuation and arrived late on Friday night, looking a little exhausted and bewildered. Josh had been relaxing at the beach and we went down there to join him for a visit last weekend. I got tan and sandy. His parents arrived in Lavallette shortly before the evacuation order following a 30+ hour drive from Denver. Josh's sister Kate was scheduled to arrive that night in Newark on a flight that was cancelled, so she stayed in Denver and swam in a pool instead.
We were all together and Saturday we slept in. Later we had a nice long dog walk and Jon did an extraordinary amount of yard work while we all watched. Breakfast was a delicious pile of local apple cider doughnuts and lunch was a far less creative reheating of random foods. In the afternoon we went to the horse races for the last three events, including the Travers -- the biggest race of the year with tens of thousands of people and a $1M purse. I lost $4. That night we escaped the crowds of Saratoga and headed to nearby Glens Falls to eat in our favorite restaurant, Bistro Tallulah, owned and operated by New Orleans transplant culinary geniuses. One more dog walk and then the misty rain started to fall, somewhere around 10pm...
Sunday was rougher. We were out of doughnuts. Then, around 10am the power disappeared, too. The wind whipped around and we lamented that we'd forgotten to bring the lawn furniture pillows inside, and we watched helplessly as our patio shade-sails bellowed violently in wind. They're tethered with steel wires to 4x4's planted in three feet of cement, but we thought a cable might snap, which could have decapitated a rose bush or the strawberry plants. It was touch-and-go. The rain was heavy at times, but not terribly abnormal. If we didn't know it was a hurricane we would have thought it was a windy, rainy day in June that oddly had no lightning or thunderclaps to scare the dogs. We walked our pets in the storm to the local CVS to buy candy and pretzels and returned 10# heavier with our newfound water-weight, despite wearing slickers and waterproof coats. The dogs were also 10# heavier, but they were able to shake it off rather quickly, which also helped wash the front windows of the house.
Without power or a racetrack to keep us occupied, we returned to the mid 1800's and read books. I typically read before I sleep and I fell asleep after half a chapter. I also played piano, but nothing recognizable. Jon ventured to the stores who kept their power by making deals with the government, no doubt. His windshield wipers were adequate and he marveled at the number of expensive homes on the east side of town enjoying their working traffic lights and illuminated televisions, forcing a remonstrative call to the utilities indicating that the west side was clearly the target of blatant discrimination. At some point during the day I won a round of Hearts, but only through my competitors' negligence.
The rain misted and then stopped somewhere around 6:30pm. We took the dogs to a local trail and were alarmed to find one downed tree branch, naked, alone, and now bait for three cooped-up dogs. While we surveyed the damage, Jon stayed home and labored over a glorious dinner, cooked in the twilight on gas burners. He wore a spelunker's headlamp to see, which we all found amusing--except when he turned his head and blinded us. I found and lit no less than two dozens candles around the house, starting with the important bathrooms. I set the table with a black tablecloth (I think it was black) and white dishes. I lit the final candle for an elegant evening when lo! Power was restored with the squeal of ten smoke alarms, three dogs and five people who visually assessed by our wild hair that no one had showered that day.
By 7pm the sky was nearly clear with a delicious, cool, arid breeze. Another friend joined us and we dined on Chicken Fly Creek with Saratoga salt potatoes and collared greens followed by apple pie and ice cream. Somehow we managed to consume six bottles of wine as well. I'm pretty sure the dogs didn't contribute to our consumption, though I can't testify due to my incapacitation.
This morning our friends returned to Lavallette. The little town near Seaside Heights was in the direct path of Hurricane Irene and it's just a six-block-wide strip of land between the ocean and an inland waterway. Tim explained that if you dug a small hole in the yard, maybe one foot deep, you could see water in it rise and fall with the tides. Their dining room is no more than two feet above normal sea levels. After thoughtful consideration it was decided that either no damage or total ruination would be welcomed--the latter would provide a chance to fully and properly rebuild--but some damage would be the most damaging, because no one likes to walk around on wet carpets. Not even wet dogs.
You can leave comments here wishing The Correll's your best wishes, but please do not send bottles of wine.
MG
