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“Leos have a way of saying things with a very sarcastic flair.” – Sylvia Browne
Who, me? Nah.
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Another (love) Letter From Joss
Needing a break from the doom and gloom today, so I'm not writing anything about my crab-infested house, FEMA, or general hurricane stuff (though I do have some issues regarding information given out by the media that is untrue or misleading, but I'll discuss that tomorrow.)
Today, since it's opening day of Serenity, I have to share the note I got from Joss Whedon:
Well boys and girls and boys dressed as girls and girls dressed as Kaylee, the time is almost upon us. This Friday we take that old rust-bucket out of the shipyard and see if she can breach atmo. It's been a long (to paraphrase a band I like) strange trip, and it'll be nice finally to show everybody what it is we've been tinkering with all this time. You already know you have my thanks, from the hardcore fans to the softcore... fans.... let me try that again. From the people manning the booths, buying DVD sets for their friends, getting banners seen everywhere on Australian TV, raffling artwork for ticketholders (Adam Hughes, take a bow), to the most casual fan who just wants to see the flick and won't ever even read this. You guys are the fuel in the engine, the Fire in the Fly, the weird green stuff coming out of Serenity's butt. (Hmmm. Forget that last one. I'm a little bit out of control here.)
Everyone needs something to keep them going. Mal has his ship. Zoe has her integrity. Jayne has Vera. And I've got you guys.
So what now? There have been so many posts about seeing it, seeing it again, the first weekend, the second weekend, being enthusiastic without being obnoxious (and yes, it IS hard to see over the pom-pom of a Jayne hat), buying tickets in advance, making a noise... I honestly wouldn't know what to add. I can tell you this: the movie will play in about 2200 hundred theaters, which is a good number. Too many, and you get empty theaters with no energy -- not enough, and you get, well, not enough. It may be hard to find in some areas but it'll be out there. Leave no multiplex unturned! This is going to be a ground war, peeps -- we have to hold the valley for a long while. However it opens, it needs to HOLD. Instead of the Alliance we'll be fighting viewer apathy, fear of something new, the urge to wait for DVD, and Jessica Alba in a bikini. (Although I have it on good authority that she spends 90% of the film in a huge wooly parka. Make sure that gets out.)
The day this puppy opens, I'll be seeing it with my family (don't worry, there's a lot of them, and they're all paying) and then I'm off to Europe to learn the word 'Browncoats' in nine different languages -- 'cause like I said, it's all about holding. I'll never be far from a computer, though, so I can check in with y'all. Thanks for every damn thing.
And remember, amidst all the urgency to make this an event, all the work and the worry, to take two hours and just enjoy yourself. That is, after all, what all this fighting's about.
-joss.
Note how he's very careful to make it seem like he's talking to lots of people. For obvious reasons, he can't come right out and say "Larissa, I love you and you can come live with me instead of your mom." But the message is there. Gotta love that subtext.
Oh, and the other message...GO SEE SERENITY! 
/happy mode off/ (Tomorrow back to doom and gloom, with pics.)
Safe In Washington
Well, we made it. We're at my mom's house, and I just got full internet and email capabilities, and I almost feel normal again.
The trip was long--six days straight of 12 hours in the car. We normally plan out our trips, but this time we didn't have time, so we just drove until we were too tired to drive anymore, and stayed where we could find a hotel. We had to stay in some scary ones a couple of times, but we made it here just fine. I wish we'd have been able to stay with everyone who generously offered us a room in at their home, but since we were pretty much playing our route by ear, we didn't get a chance. But I do want to thank everyone who offered. People have been so amazing.
And if you ever get a chance, eat at the Mackenzie River Pizza Co., at various locations in Montana. We stop there every time we drive through Missoula, and the food is fantastic. And this time through, they paid for our meal and gave Brennan a big bag of warm, fresh cookies.
So now we're here, and I'm watching Rita with a sick stomach. We already know that water is pouring through our damaged roof, and that everything that was still in the garage (some of the few things we salvaged) is gone. We'd killed the mold, but now it'll be back with a vengeance. But really, Rita can't do much more to us than has already been done. In fact, at this point, damage can only help as far as insurance claims go, since this time any damage won't be flood damage, but wind and rain.
What makes me nauseous with a deja vu feeling is watching the preparations everyone else is going through for Rita. I feel for everyone in its path, and for everyone stuck in evacuation traffic. It's kind of interesting how the evacuation is getting so much attention; I've done the exact same thing three times, and I'll bet you never saw my car stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for 15 hours, or saw all the cars I passed that had run out of gas. It's scary to travel with your kid and pets and not know if you are going to get where you're going because gas is low. And forget stopping to eat--if you didn't bring food and water and something to pee in...you are screwed.
I'm praying for everyone on the road right now. It's a horrible experience, and honestly, I'm glad it's getting so much attention.
Anyway, now that we're settling in, we're trying to get things taken care of. Brennan just started school, and we're working up an itemized list of everything we lost so we can present it to the insurance company--not that it'll help much. They are still insisting that storm surge isn't covered. We're hoping Rita will spawn a tornado that'll take out the rest of our house, because at least that would be covered.
We've also learned that we'll get no help from FEMA. Since we'd just paid off all of our debts except the house and Bryan's car, they think we can afford a loan to rebuild our house. So the only help we'll get from them is a 5.5% loan, which won't help at all. Sure, we'll have money to fix the house, but even if we can sell it, we'll then have a 50k loan to pay off, and no place to live.
But the bigger problem is getting the house repaired at all. There simply aren't enough contractors and builders. People in Florida STILL haven't gotten their houses repaired after Ivan a year ago. In fact, only about 20k houses were damaged in Florida hurricanes last year...and most aren't fixed. In Mississippi alone, there were 200,000 destroyed or damaged. It could be YEARS before we can get someone to fix our house. In the meantime, we'll be paying a mortgage, rent, a car payment, and for a FEMA loan.
Now, let's say we CAN get the house fixed in a reasonable amount of time. We still won't be able to sell it. Not only will no one want to buy a house that had been flooded, but there won't be anyone to sell to. There is no work in southern Mississippi to bring people. The casino and fishing industries have been destroyed. So has the shipping industry. The military has all but left since Keesler is unusable, and the navy base will be closing. So there will be no one moving to the area to buy houses. Even if people do move to the area, our neighborhood was completely destroyed. Who would want to buy a house where all there is nearby is damaged houses and no people?
But...
It's not all bad. Because of the auction, we have money available to get started on paying for inspections and performing our own repairs (crash course in installing drywall and fixing roofs, anyone?) I've been trying to put our thanks into words, but honestly, it's beyond my capabilities. I'm going to have to try, though, because as things settle down here, I'm going to start writing out thank you cards. I'm going to have several days of grateful tears ahead of me.
For now, please know that my family is grateful for all the help, offers of help, donations, and encouraging messages we've received. You have all made a huge difference in our lives. We feel so blessed and lucky, despite how rough things have been.
We'll have pictures soon to show you just how rough things got around our house, but I do have a few now of the area near our house.
This is one is of a gas station nearby. This one is of a house at the beach where we used to go. And this one is self-explanatory. 
Take care, all.
On The Way To WA
Hey All - Steph here for Larissa. I got a quick email from her late last night. She's leaving Mississippi early this morning with Bryan. her son, the mice and the cats. (Not sure about her friend's lizard.)
She's pretty well exhuasted. It sounds like they've ripped everything out of the house, down to the drywall and insulation. They couldn't save much at all - too much seawater and too much mold. She did say that the town's under total military control and that there's a huge police presence there as well. However, there was no sign of FEMA. She's having a tough time getting in touch with them.
Anyway, she's hoping to be in Washington by Friday, (mentioned something about sleeping for a week once she got there) and she'll call me from the road to check in. And I'll make sure I check in here with you.
Wishing them a safe trip.
Steph T.
Made it to Mississippi
Well, I made it to Ocean Springs. It was a long drive, and one where I had to stop every so often to get gas, because most stations along the Florida panhandle were rationing. I could only get $20 of gas at a time. Then, as I got closer to Pensacola, the gas started running out. I was the last car in line to get gas at the last station I stopped at. I was really getting nervous.
The drive through Mobile was the easiest it's ever been. There was hardly any traffic when there should have been rush-hour backups. Then remembered; there are no jobs, so no rush hour.
Then I hit the traffic backed up for the causeway on I-10 into Mississippi. Traffic was backed up for miles because a barge had rammed the causeway, was wedged beneath the bridge. Remember, this is several miles inland. I spent about 2 hours in that stop and go traffic to get 5 miles.
The damage along the drive amazed me. Hotels and fast-food places with their roofs ripped off, giant trees uprooted, boats smashed into houses.
I got to my house in the early evening. As I drove into my neighborhood, I found it easy to believe that my subdivision was the hardest hit in the town. It looks like a bomb went off. In the middle of the street, people had piled all their damaged belongings and pieces of their houses. It's one continuous pile so high you can't see over it.
Rescuers were pulling bodies from several houses.
My house looks like hell. Windows broken or hanging off the side of the house. Roof torn up. Garage door buckled and torn. I found some of my belongings several blocks away. All plants and trees are dead because of the salt water. It was awful.
But even more horrible were the sounds and smells. All the birds are dead...my cardinal family I fed every day, the blue jays, even the grackles. The frogs and toads all drowned. So there is no wildlife noise. The only sounds are of chainsaws as people saw up the trees that fell on their houses or in the street.
And the smells...God, the smells made me gag. Mold, mostly. And rotting vegetation and houses. But worse...the breeze. It brought the sweet, heavy stench of decaying corpses--animal and human.
I've never been so relieved to get away from a place. I collapsed at my friend's house, just grateful to be someplace I recognized and that wasn't destroyed. After a couple of beers, I checked email and found out that Snowbound had been rejected. Just the icing on this disaster.
Thing is, I think I'm in survival mode, because there is no pain. I'm disappointed when I think about it, but right now, in comparison to the fact that I'm homeless and everything I own is gone, a rejection is pretty damned minor. Besides, how can I possibly grieve for something as petty as a rejected manuscript when my neighbors drowned in their own houses?
I'm sure that once I get settled in Washington, the numbness will wear off, and all of this will hit me again. But for now, I just have to get through it. I'm going to be here longer than I planned, because Mississippi is out of gas and I can't get out. We're hoping to leave on Monday.
I'll update when I can.
Once again, thank you all for everything. I'm so lucky to have you.
Hugs,
Larissa
Wednesday, September 07, 2005 @ 10:50 AM CST [link]
Headed for Ocean Springs
I'm heading for Ocean Springs tomorrow. It's going to be very hard, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Bryan didn't want me to come, didn't want me to have to see the destruction of the once beautiful town or our house. Plus, there's no food or gasoline in the town. But I feel like I need closure, not to mention that I need to see if I can salvage a few things that my husband might be tempted to toss.
He's been in the house; when he called the first time he sounded terrible. He was in shock, I think. We knew it would be bad, but I don't think he expected it to be THAT bad.
My son's heavy wooden swingset is on a neighbor's roof. A hundred gallon propane tank is in our backyard. Our refrigerator floated across the kitchen and is lying on its back. The washer is on top of the dryer (and they weren't stackables.) Crabs are living in our house (mind you, we live almost two miles from the water.) Our closets collapsed in on top of themselves when the weight of the wet clothing tore away the drywall. There's broken glass everywhere, and the trees are gone--the ones I staked down to survive hurricane Dennis. Brennan's fish are dead, but we told him they swam away and are free. He still broke down and cried, but we promised him more fish. The neighborhood is trashed.
But Bryan has already salvaged a few things; the kitchen knives and some DVDs that were on top of a plastic container that floated by.
We're in for a long, nasty battle with the insurance companies. The hurricane insurance not covering storm surge is ridiculous. We are TWO MILES from the water, and we don't live in a flood zone, so expecting us to carry flood insurance makes no sense. Storm surge is hurricane-driven, so you'd think that hurricane insurance would cover, um, hurricanes. My conversation with the insurance representative when something like this:
Her: I'm sorry, but we don't cover water damage cause by storm surge.
Me: But the storm surge was caused by the hurricane, and you are a hurricane insurance company.
Her: You need to carry flood insurance to cover this, ma'am.
Me: But it wasn't a flood. It was storm surge.
Her: You need to carry flood insurance to cover this, ma'am.
Me: Do you have earthquake insurance on your house?
Her: I don't live in an earthquake area, ma'am.
Me: And I don't like in a flood area. Ma'am.
Something has GOT to change. Too many people are getting screwed over by this idiocy.
But I do have good news! Felicks made it!!!!!! I can't tell you how relieved I am. I hadn't eaten in days, and once I heard the news, I pigged out. I guess things got hairy for a while, but the vet staff managed to save all the animals. I can't wait to thank them in person, since on the phone they got the impression that I'm a sobbing crazy woman, I'm sure.
Anyway, I want to thank everyone again for all the support, offers for places to stay, prayers, well-wishes, and help. I still don't have the words to express my gratitude, but please believe that my family and I are more grateful than we have ever been. As horrible as this experience has been, I have to say that some fantastic things have come out of it, and I don't know how I would have made it through without all of you. I've found strength I didn't know I had, and at the same time, I've found that I'm a big wuss, too.
Tomorrow is going to be horrific, and my stomach is churning already. But I think it'll be therapeutic to share it with you all, so I'll take pictures. I won't be able to post anything until I get to Washington around the middle of the month, but I'll be in contact with Stephanie if anyone needs to get in touch with me.
Take care, and thank you from my entire family.
Larissa
Monday, September 05, 2005 @ 02:21 PM CST [link]
A Message from Larissa
Hi everyone,
I'm finally able to send a few emails out now that I'm out of the hotel. Internet service is sporadic where I am, and the computer I'm using doesn't load webpages, so I've basically only got limited email capabilities. But I did want to let everyone know that I'm okay via Steph.
Here's the situation:
Aerial shots show that my house was/is under 9 feet of water. Even the things I put up high are soaked. Bryan's Jeep, which would have been paid off in just a few months, was in the garage, and is now a total loss. We thought we were insured--we bought hurricane insurance, which is outrageously expensive. Unfortunately, hurricane insurance doesn't cover storm surge of historically epic proportions. We lost everything except what I stuffed into the car--my kid, my cat, my mice, two days' worth of clothes, a few important files, my laptop, jewelry, and two
plastic bins full of pictures.
Funny, it's not the furniture and electronics I'm most upset about losing. It's the little stuff. All my Air Force awards and memorabilia. My beloved books, so many signed by authors and friends. My writing books. My computer. My Christmas ornaments I've been collecting since I was a kid. My favorite pajamas and sweatshirt. And worse, the things my son has made for me over the years. I feel so bad for my husband--all his Coast Guard memorabilia and awards are gone. His tools. He's not very sentimental, so the few things that do mean something to him mean a LOT. All gone.
And my son...he doesn't quite grasp the significance of what hashappened. Everything he had is destroyed. All his toys, some not even opened yet from his birthday. His clothes, his stuffed animals.
Before we left, I told him to pack a backpack with the things that meant most to him. I said jokingly to choose wisely since the house might not be there when we got back. Little did I know how true those words would become.
He picked a few stuffed animals and his game boy. He asked if he could bring his school books because he was afraid they'd be destroyed and we'd have to pay for them. Even in the face of losing everything, he was worried about our money situation. I love that kid.
And then there's my cat, my husband's beloved Felicks. He'd gotten very sick with pancreatitis just before the hurricane. He was too sick to evacuate, so I left him at the vet clinic, where the vets were going to stay to weather out the storm. I figured that during a hurricane, a vet clinic would be the best place for a sick cat to be. Now I'm regretting my decision. Sick or not, I should have brought Felicks with me. I suspect that the clinic was either destroyed or inundated by 25 feet of water. I cry and get nauseous every time I think about how Felicks' last minutes would have been as water began to rise in his cage. He'd have been so scared, wondering why I left him to die like that. Wondering where his family was. Dear God, I don't think I'm strong enough to handle all of this. I pray that at the last minute the vets got the animals out, because if not, the animals and vet staff are dead.
My husband's Coast Guard boat is currently patrolling Mobile Bay, looking for survivors. They've only found death. The water is full of dead farm animals. The boat can't dock anywhere because all of the bases have been destroyed. Even if they could dock, my husband can't get to our house because the city of Ocean Springs, where we live, is cut off from the world. The bridge between Biloxi and Ocean Springs was completely destroyed, as was the highway between Mobile and Mississippi. No one can get out of my town, and no one can get in. No phones. The mayor is missing. People in my neighborhood who have been able to get messages out are trapped in the rafters of their homes.
At least my son and I are safe. We couldn't afford to stay in a hotel for long, so we're staying in Georgia with my sister in law. It's crowded, but it could be so much worse, and I'm grateful. I'm finding that I'm grateful for really strange things--I'm happy when I get out my shaving razor because it's something I have that I won't need to buy. Crazy.
My mom is going to fly out and pick up my son and take him back to Washington state to start school again, since it will be months, maybe even a year before Ocean Springs schools can start up again. When roads open up, we'll have to rent a trailer or something to park in our driveway so we can salvage what we can and begin cleanup. I'll take anything we can save to Washington and live with my parents. Bryan will live on the boat and handle house cleanup from there. He can't get an apartment because there is nothing left on the Gulf coast, and we couldn't afford it--we still have 30 years worth of house payments to make on a house we can't live in, possibly ever again.
Our story is not unique, unfortunately. We evacuated over 300 miles out, yet the hotels in the area are packed with people who can't go home. People who evacuated with their pets are having to take them to shelters because they have no homes to go back to. If you live in an area where refugees fled, please consider adopting a pet--there are so many now that need homes.
But as bad as it is for us, I feel incredibly lucky right now. We're alive. I have a place to stay. We lost everything, but there are people who lost everything...AND they lost their jobs. The casinos, the fishing industry...all destroyed, as well as business that employed thousands of people. Bryan still has his job. I'm so proud of the guys on his boat--they know they've lost so much, yet they are having to deal with the unknown and worry while they help others.
I'm lucky in other ways, as well.
A couple of days ago, we had breakfast at Shoney's. My friend who evacuated with me was there, and we were crying as we ordered our kids' pancakes. When we went to leave, the staff wouldn't let us pay. It was such a small kindness, but one that meant the world to me.
And then I learned that the writing community has banded together to help not only me, but other writers who need help. I can't even begin to express what I feel about that right now. But I do want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for all the help and support and prayers.
I like to think I'm a strong person, but this has tested my strength. And the horror is only beginning. It'll take years to recover from this, and I don't know if the nightmares will ever end. Knowing that you are all here will help, though, and you can't possibly know how much that means to me.
God Bless,
Larissa
Thursday, September 01, 2005 @ 09:11 AM CST [link]
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