Maya the Boston and I are all alone in the house in violation of municipal evacuation orders. Cindy has taken her parents west to avoid Hurricane Dorian, which is a category 5 storm over Grand Bahama right now. This is the slowest moving, most powerful, unpredictable monster I’ve ever seen and is allegedly one of the most dangerous storms in recorded history. Creeping along at only a single mile an hour, every wobble brings panic to government agencies all along the eastern seaboard. I must admit, I’m second guessing my decision to “hunker down,” even  though most of my neighbors have apparently made the same decision. The forecast cone brushes the border of every portion of the coast from Orlando to Maryland, so it’s time to pray that the One who calms storms will bring the peace and make the waves be still. 

While I pray for the best I’ve got to prepare for the worst in the meantime. I’ve got six full propane tanks, a generator, a camp stove, a lantern, flashlights, a supply of water, and enough canned food to survive an apocalypse. The windows are boarded up, and the car is full of gas just in case I change my mind.