Since Hurricane Charley I've been buying my ice cream one pint at a time here in Orlando. No doubt Frances will put the electricity out for a week or more again. Charley blew through all the most charming older Orlando neighborhoods: those that gave the city an "old Florida" look and feel. "The City Beautiful" is less so, now. What oaks weren't blown down during Charley were removed by the panicked populace, mostly fraidy cat non-natives, during the last couple of weeks. All that debris is on the curbs waiting to be blown back into the houses by Frances (the trees' revenge).

I've bought more batteries in the last month than I've purchased during the last thirty years. The worst, though, is that I'm having to hold-off on mailing my registration for the R.T.I. race. If I have shingles on the roof and all windows and doors intact after Frances, I'll mail it in. Not that the post office may deliver it on time in the aftermath. I've had better Labor Day weekends. Even so, I've had time to formulate a strategy for the race: I plan to start at the back of the pack and to finish. That's my entire strategy; to finish. When the last guy leaves on Sunday, leave a beer on the beach for me. I will finish eventually. My boat has three hulls and two speeds: Wide Open and Asleep. The Sleep Mode seems to prevail at the R.T.I.

My boat is in the garage. My older Jaguar will weather the blast in the driveway. One has to set priorities.