First of all, I'm alive.

The view from my window yesterday.



(Photo by Rich Beauchesne of Seacoast Media Group...I wonder if I need permission to use this...) The view from a photographer much closer to the action. That's our house in the background. Our apartment is in the front on the first floor. In fact, the window on the far right is our bedroom window and at this exact moment I was standing there taking pictures of this scene. (Shot through the trees, they weren't worth posting.) I swear you can almost see stalker-me standing there.

It is hard to believe, sitting outside as I did on this beautiful, sunny 50-degree day, that I was evacuated by boat from my home yesterday. After I posted about the adventure we were about to embark on---'Cuz what else does one do in times of crisis? Well, Dan booked a hotel and rented a car.---I started going through my suitcase trying to decide A) How much luggage one is allowed in a boat evacuation (Do I get a carry-on?) and B) Should I pack my cowboy boots? I fit everything---no boots but I managed a blow dryer and our tax forms (in the hope that I will get our taxes done while homeless; though I forgot about the great distraction and wonderful hotel perk that is HBO)---into a small rolling suitcase and a green North Face backpack which I shoved into two garbage bags so that my laptop wouldn't be damaged by rain (or the raft flipping).

I rarely see my neighbors but as we all stood out in the rain together like kids at the busstop waiting to be rescued , we finally introduced ourselves.

This is Alice.

(Photo by Rich Beauchesne)

I watched them put her onto the boat this way as well. (Dan joked that he opted for the over-the-shoulder fireman carry when it was his turn.) Alice and I didn't formally introduce ourselves but I always say hello to her when I see her and she pretty much never responds (which, as a measure to protect my self esteem, I tell myself is because she's a little deaf).





This was the boat (at the end of our long driveway) that came to our rescue. Our neighbor Amanda, Dan and I were on the third trip. Dan joked to his sister that we knocked over an old lady to get on. (He also said I just stood there playing my violin...He also said that we should make signs that read, "George Bush hates black people." He was on fire, you see.) The firemen (who were adorable) joked about taking us on a cruise. "If you look to your right, you'll see your next door neighbor's porch." Back at the fire department (where we were taken by ambulance after disembarking and wading through a foot of water to dry land) we heard one of the guys over the radio say, "We're gonna need bigger boots." The whole thing was pretty comical and was only made funnier today when we read that only 12 people from our street were evacuated, most of whom were from our apartment building. (Dan calls us the Exeter 12...like the Oceanic Six. A joke for the Lost fans out there.)

You know what won't be funny though? If our house gets robbed because the newspaper printed our actual address in the paper when mentioning the evacuation. I can see Home Alone's Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern rubbing their hands together now. They might as well have written, "Wanted: Burglar to rob big ol' empty 10-apartment house. Must have own canoe and clean boating record." I told Dan that I'm suing if we get robbed. (My most valuable possession? Tivo.) You know what else won't be funny? If our cars have water in their engines or float away completely.

Never let go, guys!

You can't help but have perspective on all of this, with all of the work that is still going on in New Orleans since Katrina. We were never in real danger. (I actually was thinking we should stay---"We've got a frozen lasagna in the fridge. We'll make it!"---but Dan said we'd be screwed if we lost power. He was right. Apparently I'm the go-down-with-the-ship type.) We may be homeless and carless until Friday but that's the worst of it (unless, of course, we get robbed or are cars are gone or both). We've made lemonade of all of this so far. We're playing house at a hotel that offers a fine complimentary Continental Breakfast (where you can make your own waffles!) and a USA Today is under the door every morning. We may even hit the hotel gym after work today... It's a funny little life.

The one car thing is tough but since Dan works in Portsmouth (where we're staying) we can work it out pretty easily. I'm at the Portsmouth library right now waiting to get Dan before we pick up some take-out and head "home." I've never been to this library before and it's beautiful. Today I worked outside a coffee shop in the sun for two hours. Homelessness is becoming me.

Cut to two days from now when I'm throwing mini shampoo bottles at Dan and telling him I'm not made for this kind of life.

So far though, it's just the stuff of a good story.

This is how the rest of the state sees it. (The guy is standing right in front of our house which is the "gray house" he refers to (but they don't show it at first). Later on, when they show the skate park---which is right next door and where I cruise teenage boys---and then pan to the left, our house is shown. I believe the cooking school next door---the little red building---is a cover for a money laundering operation as I've never seen or smelled any cooking going down there. The mobile home park that also got evacuated is across town.)

And some more links:

Jason Schreiber, whose photographs are featured here (you can see our house in the background here, too), is a reporter who also interviewed us (and took pics of our particular rescue which I hope to get my hands on) but we didn't make the papes. Apparently my poking my head out of the door during the interview to ask "Do I have time to pee before we're saved?" wasn't fit to print.

Another

And anotha'

That's it.

P.S. This was in Portsmouth, not Exeter, but the point is: The Wet Bandits are out there.