‘Tis the season for hurricanes.

I’ve lived on the Gulf coast for 18 years now – and weathered more tropical systems than I can count.

The year that I moved here, I arrived on a Tuesday, and had to evacuate two days later on a Thursday. That first year, I evacuated 3 times.

Now, I’m like a lot of “locals” – I track the storms, watch the central barometric pressure, study spaghetti models.

I will be the first to tell you I’ll sit out every storm that’s a category 2 or less, but I’m out of here if it’s going to be a cat 3.

The big hurricane Ivan that knocked out my power for three weeks, that had me stuck working in the hospital three days with no A/C and no way to check on my family – it may have been 14 years ago, but the residual pit my stomach nausea is a low rumble now.

We brought in the flag, secured the patio furniture, took down the ferns. It may be premature, but it’s easier to do it now than when it’s raining.

It may be much ado about nothing. It often is. We will still check out battery supply and fuel up the cars, just in case.

Looks like the long weekend just got a little bit longer.