The clouds and moisture in the air sit low and tight around western Pennsylvania today.  It feels like you can literally cut it with a knife.  What was once a sunny blue-sky forecast is now filled with rain for days on end. 

It's a familiar feeling, one I remember all too well when the six plus inches of rain fell in Pittsburgh from Hurricane Ivan's fallout.   The rains came down and the wind whistled through the doors at work, sounding like a freight train.  Something in my gut told me, get out.  I left work at 1 o'clock and came home to a basement flooding with water.  I bailed for two hours straight. 

My back still seizes up when I bend to the right and lift something heavy -- remnants of bailing out three inches of water from my hilltop home's basement that September day.  More than 25 wet vac sweeps couldn't keep the water out.  God bless those downhill from me.

We think of hurricanes and tropical depressions (so aptly named for their emotional downpour) as something our coastline communities have to deal with.  We learned the hard way a few years ago.  The rains and winds come here too.  They sit and stay in the jet stream with more than a "how dee doo" spit swap in the lower lying areas.

As I sat watching recaps and anniversary coverage of Katrina, I couldn't help but wipe back the tears yet again.  The gulf coast was devastated and hurting while our government ran around in circles trying to figure out who should be in charge.  Spike Lee's four-hour documentary "When the Levees Broke" brought back so many memories of watching that tragedy unfold.  BRAVO!

"You're doin' a helluva job Brownie" is gone and Nagin's still pitching for rebirth.  I had a hard time finding out what became of Lieutenant General Honore, the man in charge of the calvary that eventually rode in to save the day in New Orleans.  Remember that guy?  The man with the constant cigar dangling from his honest lips?   The "You are Stuck on Stupid" news media mogul?  Yeah, that's the guy.  That guy should be running the efforts in Iraq, if you ask me, or Bush's news pool. 

Anyhow, I sense a bad wind blowing toward us today.  I don't want to get to know Ernesto.  Not that he's a bad storm but he's filled with soaking rains nonetheless.  Waaaaaaaaay up here in Pittsburgh, we can tell you all about him in a few days.   Our mayor's in the hospital fighting a rare lymphoma and all I can do is pray.  Pray for him and for Ernesto missing us and a sump pump that won't fail. 

God, I hope my back holds out.