Sun, Rain, and Hurricane

I really don't know where to begin here . . . the world seems a bit topsy-turvy since I returned.

So I'll work chronologically from my perspective.

Saturday morning was a 16-miler for all of us AIDS Marathoners and let me just say what a difference from 14! We ran most of the way in a cool, light rain and we ran happy and healthy. I was surprised how easy 16 was compared to two weeks ago when we ran two miles less. The weather makes a huge difference - obviously. Normally I don't enjoy running in the rain, but because this wasn't a heavy downpour or really cold, I have to say I actually enjoyed it.

Then I left for Fenwick Island and had a great mini-vacation. Highlights were: happy hours and snacks on the screened-in-porch, kayaking on the bay, swimming in the surf (was it ever strong!), running on a near deserted beach with Zoe, poking around Rehobeth and riding the rides (I loved the CHAOS ride - thanks to S and his antics), CRABS, and a nice swim in the pool. Yesterday was crazy windy and I figured Katrina was making her way up the East Coast . . . pelting me and my friends with sand and churning up the surf. Aside from the wind, it was pretty much a perfect vacation except that it had to end. The TV never went on so we blissfully enjoyed our time away from reality.

I returned to a full dose of it today. I'm bewildered and shocked by Katrina's devastation in the Gulf and cannot comprehend the behavior of some of the people down there. I cannot comprehend it because I cannot comprehend their situation, but it's appalling from where I sit and watch. I'm not judging (or at least TRYING not to), just awed and dismayed by it all.

A friend of mine's husband has gone down with a Red Cross relief truck. We got our first update this evening and he's already experiencing frustration and heartache and he hasn't even arrived at his destination yet.

How do you help? How do you make a difference in the lives of the people who lost everything except their lives? Yes, give money. It feels so insignificant. Of course it adds up, but I would rather be a woman of action than one just sitting here watching and waiting, hoping I've done enough and knowing it's probably not.

And naturally I think about the animals, too. Who will help them? In some ways they are probably better equipped to survive something as wretched as this . . . and in other ways they are totally dependent on us to save them.

It feels so damn hopeless that I wish I had never left the beach. Ignorance is bliss indeed.