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Exactly three years ago, I sat with an infant in my arms, glued to the television, in awe of what Hurricane Katrina was doing to the Gulf Coast. That kind of devastation could happen here? A city the size of New Orleans, a city below sea level had that poor of an emergency plan?

You remember the pictures. The pictures of the people left behind, the elderly and disabled, the mothers with several young children in tow. I remember thinking, how were they getting diapers? Feeding those babies? Keeping themselves hydrated?

It was exactly three years ago. Local agencies loaded up what they could and drove down to help. I brought boxes of things–of baby things–of ready-to-eat formula, diapers, and wipes downtown to the Fieldhouse where an Indiana Pacer was loading semi-trucks to take to his hometown.

I don’t want to sit here, this coming week, and watch it all over again, holding an infant in my arms, I really don’t.

Say a few prayers tonight, if you are so inclined, for the well-being of those in Gustav’s way. I know I will be.

for two weeks straight. I am LOVING prime time Olympics, loving all the swimming, all the gymnastics, all the beach volleyball. I am loving that I’m not watching any stupid reality tv this week. I am loving that my three year old watches the first few events before bed time, and each time she says, “I can do that!” LOVE IT ALL. Love it all right up until I look at the clock and realize it’s pushing midnight–AGAIN. Oh well. It’s only two weeks, right?

I have been blessed with some of the best friends in the entire world. Seriously–the entire world. Three of them, I met on the first day of high school in 1987. The first? In homeroom. The next two, in honors English second period. They, actually, were already friends from smarty-pants advanced language and math classes through the public school system. Me? I was a newbie (a word not yet invented, I don’t think) from a parochial school. Regardless, we became friends that fall and have managed to stay friends ever since. For awhile, in college, I would call them and say, “Do you realized that we’ve known each other for 5 years? 6 years? 7 years?” Such a long time. Then, at 28, it was, “Hey! I’ve known you for half my life!”

August always makes me think about that–since that’s the month I met them. And this August? I realize that our friendship is now old enough to drink. So when two of them came to my daughter’s birthday party this weekend (with their own children), we did. Margaritas with good friends–does it get better than that?