Finding Shelter From the Storm

I’ve lived in Nassau Bay since 1990. That’s 19 years (it’s Monday, we could all use a little help) minus my 4 college years and the 4 months Stephen and I lived in our Pearland apartment. I’ve experienced a lot in the neighborhood. Some good. Some bad. All exciting.

 

My neighborhood is known for a few things. It used to be known as that neighborhood across the street from NASA. I’ve had many people throughout my life ask me if my neighbors are astronauts. (In case you’re wondering, no, they aren’t.) Then, back in 2002, an unfortunate event changed the reputation of Nassau Bay. Clara Harris drove over her husband in the parking lot of the neighborhood Hilton, where just months before, my high school was having their prom. Of course this story made national news. As it should. What a psycho. But it would have been nice if the media would have said the hotel was in Houston. Nope, this makes better news. A little city of about 4100, just a hop away from NASA. Thank you media. Why did you have to start being accurate with this story??

 

I bet most of you forgot about that story. Nassau Bay is no longer defined by Mrs. Harris’ driving record. Now it’s all about storms. During Rita, The Weather Channel broadcast from Nassau Bay. I was on my couch in my dry, safe apartment in Austin. I was terrified. Once the broadcasters saw that all they were going to be able to report was miles of traffic, they moved on. But a couple short years later, they came back. Ike was sure to hit us. So dozens and dozens of reports set up camp at (where else?!) the neighborhood Hilton. I watched with my husband and parents from a hotel in Stephenville, Texas. I can remember going out to eat and having our eyes glued to the tv when we were waiting for our table. The hostess asked me, “Do yall live somewhere around there?” The terror in my eyes must have given me away. “We live there. Exactly there. That’s our neighborhood.” That was a scary week. I had a house to worry about. Nassau Bay floods. That’s not news. That wasn’t something Stephen and I were tricked into when we bought our house. We knew what we were getting ourselves into.

 

Now, all of a sudden, even thunderstorms are scary. We were out of town last week and didn’t see the immediate results of the downpour. Of course we saw the sewage in our backyard and the waterlines in the front yard. But that’s about it. And that’s not too scary. Friday. Was. Scary.

 

Stephen was out of town on a men’s retreat. My parents were in Austin so Molly was spending the weekend with Rookie and me. Dogs don’t care for thunder. Or stobe lightening. They especially don’t like it when the power goes off. Wives don’t like being home alone. Or 5 hour storms. Or leaks. They especially don’t like it when the power goes off. But I was the adult. I had to pull it together. I put cups under the leaks, put my big girl panties on, and dealt with it. I told the girls that it would all be okay.

 

But as my front yard looked like this,

All of the reflections should tell you that the enitre street is under water. About 3/4 of the yard was too.

and our backyard looked like this,

The black part is water. At least it'll wash away that sewage from last week...

I wanted to look like this.

...minus the devil eyes.