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Packing Walter's supplies this morning involved baking 4 loaves of bread (the dough for 4 more I put in the fridge) and several dozen Sin Rolls. He needed three loaves of bread. The Sin Rolls? Maybe k needs to bake them more than Walter needs to eat them.

Unwittingly, a tradition has developed. k bakes while the hurricane approaches and delivers surplus to select neighbors, to the mutual glee of all.

Hurricanes make people a bit giddy.

Since this was my first Hurricane Baked Goods stop at neighbor Geoff's, I stayed to talk for a bit. He's English, a very fine cook, and a very fine gardener. It looks like we'll be doing some plant sales together.

So I left late for Vero Beach. Walter moved there to get his trailer worked on - and be closer to me, making it the employer's fuel bill, see? - and closer to I-95. Like good smart business people, his company canceled his layover and told him to head north asap. And the hurricane speeded up towards my home. So we had no time to visit at all.

I left Geoff's, baked the loaves, and raced out of there. Traffic was a bit thick but moving, and I went most of the way at around 80 MPH. I'll readily confess to certain, mmm, sub-optimal driving habits. One is a lead foot. Today, it came in handy.

People were passing me like I was standing still. Most of them were exceptionally courteous, some a bit nervous. I left huge following distances ahead and behind, moved away from tailgaters quick, made way for everyone I could, people who wanted to pass, whatever, yes including those who rode my bumper. It was not a day to stand on one's rights. IMO.

Since we were going away from the storm, all those drivers seemed logical to me. Even if the emergency authorities were telling everyone to get off the road. See, those were probably all mobile home owners. Right?

I went through a few patches of absolutely blinding rain - not at 80 MPH, no - but the amount of clearer parts between rain bands was gratifying.

Birds were being blown around, helpless, in the air. Small pieces of trees and road debris flew by. Once, I saw a long, long line of the orange "Asplundh" trucks that FPL uses for tree trimming around power lines, heading south, back into the hurricane.

I didn't want to miss all the action. When I finally saw Walter and we knew we had no time together at all, he said, You can see me any time. A hurricane this close to home is special. Go.

The drive back was not the same.

The first third or so was okay. Me, I pay special attention to lane position and I knew I had to be careful of gusts, and that they'd push me to the right, to the west.

I guess I just didn't expect the first one to be that strong. It picked me up and put me halfway into the next lane. I was very lucky. No one was there.

Not 80 MPH any more. 74. Then 70. Then 60, 50. Focusing on keeping the car in the lane, watching out for debris, sensing the grip of the tires vs. hydroplaning, took total concentration. Add on: making sure there were no cars on either side. I wanted to get home to the action, not get delayed by another car blown into me, or me them.

And here and there, seeing the Van Gough skies all around me, I held my camera up and took pictures blind, through the window glass, still concentrating on driving, thinking maybe one or two might come out.

I'm crazy. I already know that. I didn't do it when the gusts were bumping us around. But...do it I did.

The radio told me all the hurricane news. Traffic is surprisingly heavy, bad accidents everywhere, trees and power lines down, PLEASE get off the road unless you really HAVE to drive - k did have to, yes. They put on some new pop song called Home. Home. Yes.

Then they interrupted it for more hurricane news.

Like, that the eye had already touched the coast. And south of us. This confused me.

I must confess it also disappointed me.

I've been through so many hurricanes but I've never been through the eye. And surely this minimal hurricane would be a fine one for that.

It was all true. Katrina jogged south and the exact center of the eye didn't go over my house. But with a 50-mile wide eye, I'm pretty sure part of it did.

I missed it.

I won't cry.

There'll always be another hurricane down the road.

And that road was getting wilder by the minute.

By the time I was only a few exits from my own, the skies were jet black. The flying debris was coming about almost constantly. Little stuff mostly, leaves, things that at that speed can break glass. Distracting too.

Power out everywhere, a million and more customers out. Even the huge standards lighting up I-95 were out. The rain was coming so thick and fast, sideways, that people were pulling over on the shoulders under the overpasses like a tornado was coming. Making me look around for a tornado. Distracting my attention.

Almost home.

Oh, can't see, can't see. I changed lanes for my exit and for the only time the whole trip, I accidentally cut someone off. That he barreled up behind me to my bumper, then cut over to pass me on the right makes no difference. I'm just glad we're both okay and not dead.

Off the highway, on my exit. All the traffic lights are out.

All those exhortations about making such intersections a 4-way stop got seriously ignored.

I made my turn and again I was safe.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, all powers that be.

Trees down everywhere, branches, bits of buildings in the middle of the road. You know. The usual stuff. You've seen the pictures.

We're a couple of miles from the interstate. So close. So far. concentrate, concentrate.

Almost home.

A half block from home a huge ficus was down in the middle of the street. I had to turn around.

But! Ah, home! And driving slow, finally, again. The squall line was passing and the skies were lightening up. My neighbors were out, sitting on porches watching the show, wandering about taking pictures and videos. All smiles, everyone, friendly waves and Good Luck!'s.

Home. Home. Home.

I called Walter and fed the cat and checked for damage - none - and grabbed that last loaf of bread, and drove down the block to Geoff's again. He'd invited me to dinner. First I twisted his arm into getting in the car for a short ride, just very close, a few blocks around. More friendly neighbor-hallooing. Such a mess everywhere! And suddenly my camera gave out.

So we headed back to Geoff's, and he'd made a superb roast pork supper that I was suddenly ravenous to eat, sitting at his beautifully laid table in my sandy feet. And had a very nice visit too, talking away as the electricity flickered and the wind thrashed about. I greatly enjoyed myself.

And went home. No electricity, but a very glad cat.

All the neighbors across the street have juice. They're probably thumbing their noses at us. Giggling.

I set up the little inverter on my car engine and plugged in the fridge, TV, computer, and a light.

And put my feet up, and soaked up hurricane coverage, and checked into the blogosphere to say hello to you all.

Contentment.

Katrina. Such a fine hurricane, in the end.