Cynthia

The Jensen radio you see in the above picture has been running pretty steady in the same two Double A batteries since Friday night. Pretty amazing. Also our primary source of information and entertainment at the house.

Cynthia and I are getting a little loopy. I was telling her about the tiger that’s running loose on Crystal Beach and she said “imagine some poor couple, surveying their flattened home and she turns and says ‘oh honey, we’ve lost everything…but at least we have each other‘ ROWRGRRAHHH! OH MY GOD!”

Puts things in perspective for us. Yea, we have no power and probably won’t have power till next week. But the weather has been good so we’re not drowning in our own sweat. The house is basically fine. There is an end in site and we have fared pretty well.

At least we aren’t looking at a concrete slab where our house used to be and having to avoid being eaten by a tiger…

Speaking of being eaten alive, the Life Boat Sketch by Monty Python has been running through my head. Cynthia’s always happy to learn my thought have once again turned to cannibalism.

Second Sailor: Yes. We can’t go hold out much longer, sir. We haven’t had any food since the fifth day.
Third Sailor: We’re done for, we’re done for!
First Sailor: Shut up, Maudling. We’ve just got to keep hoping someone will find us.
Fourth Sailor: How are you feeling, captain?
Fifth Sailor: Not too good … I … feel … so weak.
Second Sailor: We can’t hold out much longer.
Fifth Sailor: Listen … chaps … there’s one last chance. I’m done for, I’ve got a gammy leg, I’m going fast, I’ll never get through … but … some of you might … so you’d better eat me.
First Sailor: Eat you, sir?
Fifth Sailor: Yes. Eat me.
Second Sailor: Uuuuggghhh! With a gammy leg?
Fifth Sailor: You don’t have to eat the leg, Thompson, there’s still plenty of good meat … look at that arm.
Third Sailor: It’s not just the leg, sir.
Fifth Sailor: What do you mean?
Third Sailor: Well, sir … it’s just that …
Fifth Sailor: Why don’t you want to eat me?
Third Sailor: I’d rather eat Johnson, sir. (he points at fourth sailor)
Second Sailor: Oh, so would I, sir.
Fifth Sailor: I see.
Fourth Sailor: Well, that’s settled then. Everyone eats me.
First Sailor: Well … I … er …
Third Sailor: What, sir?
First Sailor: No, no, you go ahead, I won’t …
Fourth Sailor: Nonsense, nonsense, sir, you’re starving. Tuck in!
First Sailor: No, no, it’s not just that …
Second Sailor: What’s the matter with Johnson, sir?
First Sailor: Well, he’s not kosher.
Third Sailor: That depends how we kill him, sir.
First Sailor: Yes, yes, I see that … well to be quite frank, I like my meat a little more lean. I’d rather eat Hodges.
Second Sailor: (cheerfully) Oh well … all right.
Third Sailor: No, I’d still prefer Johnson.
Fifth Sailor: I wish you’d all stop bickering and eat me.
Second Sailor: Look! I’ll tell you what. Why don’t those of us who want to, eat Johnson, then you, sir, can eat my leg and then we’ll make a stock of the Captain and then after that we can eat the rest of Johnson cold for supper.
First Sailor: Good thinking, Hodges.
Fourth Sailor: And we’ll finish off with the peaches. (picks up a tin of peaches)
Third Sailor: And we can start off with the avocados. (picks up a two avocados)
First Sailor: Waitress! (a waitress walks in) We’ve decided now, we’re going to have leg of Hodges …