Storms never last – do they?
A friend writes that she woke up wishing she were somewhere else. I told her it is the storm (Ike is wrecking havoc over New Orleans as he skirts us) because I woke yelling from a dream where I was trapped in a beer pub in the suburbs somewhere and one of my friends had braided her hair in cornrows and I was screaming “I WANT OUT! OUT! OUT!” When I opened my eyes, Loca…