Rock You Like A Hurricane

This is my last weekend in Boston, after five years of calling it home.  I chose to stay on past Labor Day so I could soak up every last bit of of sea, shore, and sunshine.

There is just one thing I hadn't counted on . . . my first hurricane.

I grew up in the midwest.  The land is flat and the wind often picks up enough to create tornadoes, which drop out of the sky without warning and create a narrow lane of destruction before evaporating as quickly as they came.  On the East Coast, I was happy to live in hill territory which doesn't see too much of the "twister".

When you live near the ocean, though, you risk hurricane season instead.  I can live with hurricanes.  They're less random, you can see them coming, and if you prepare well enough the worst damage they cause is to knock out your electricity for a while.  It's a great excuse to invite your friends over and eat all of the ice cream in your fridge. 

They don't hit Boston often, which is why it's all the more ironic that Earl has come barreling in right on the final stretch.

It almost feels like a little salute. I guess, officially, now I've seen it all.