Although we have not seen any other domes being built on Pensacola Beach, it is extremely evident that people are putting more thought into the structures they are building on the coast. Two families are building 'round' kit houses. They actually have straight walls, none over 8 feet long. The home has the illusion of almost being a circle, especially when you stand below the house and look up. The joists radiate out from a strong center, giving the appearance of a gigantic carriage wheel. There is strength in the shape of this structure.
The sign in front of one of the houses said:
DELTEC HOMES www.deltechomes.com 800.642.2508



The strength can be enhanced further by using closed cell polyurethane foam to coat the interior of the roof and exterior walls. This unites all of the walls and roof line, creating a very strong structure. Another advantage of using this foam as insulation, instead of the fiberglass type, is the fact that it will not absorb moisture. So, even if you have a breach in the structure, it will not permeate the insulation and begin growing the mold and mildew as fiberglass insulation is so prone to do. A wonderful option, one that we personally feel should be a requirement – part of the coastal building code. Why fill your house with a virtual moisture sponge, a Petri dish for mold and mildew, when there is an alternative that will protect and strengthen your home? This seems like a no-brainer.
Another added benefit when using foam in the interior walls is the quietness it provides between the rooms. Great when you have teenagers!



Another no-brainer: use a 'peel and seal' system below your roof and on the exterior walls will create a waterproof barrier, thereby greatly diminishing any moisture gain in the house. If you lose your shingles, the 'peel and seal' will protect your home for a year. If you lose your siding, your home is still protected. It is a wonderful option, one that we personally feel should be a requirement – included as part of the code – when building on the coast. It also helps keep the structure strong and intact.

Georgia Pacific DENS Technology sheetrock has a coated mat on it that does not allow the absorption of water, thereby eliminating the mold and mildew that grows so profusely on sheetrock after a storm. They make indoor and outdoor products. Their products are a must in a humid, storm ridden environment. http://www.gp.com/gypsum

The Elks' new building resembles a concrete puzzle. Huge concrete pieces were brought to the site and put together like a giant 3D puzzle. Looks strong! I don’t know if they are planning on hosting hurricane parties in that formidable structure, but it looks like a substantial piece of engineering.



There are also some ICF – Insulating Concrete Forms – homes being built. When we were researching the dome, this is another system we seriously considered. A very strong, efficient, conventional-looking home can be built with this system. Foam blocks are stacked and then filled with concrete. Many times we also see these homes using the poly urethane foam discussed above. Combining the many options available can result in a strong, hurricane resistant building --- without having to build a dome.

All in all, it is very encouraging to watch people look around, assess the damage, and then start thinking of how to improve the situation.

The fountain is flowing! The melodies cascading from the fountain immerse us once again in its music. I didn't realize how very much I missed the soothing sound of Serenity's joy bubbling over. The water revitalizes and rejuvenates us. I guess that is the balance of Nature. Sometimes the water depletes us when her energy is destructive. Yet, the same element has the potential for renewal. It’s the yin and yang, quite literally the ebb and flow of nature.



Building the Dome of a Home has provided many opportunities to meet several interesting people and to participate in many media events.
But, never, ever, ever would I have imagined receiving our latest phone call.

It's a Thursday afternoon and my phone rings.
A producer from ABC identifies himself. My mind immediately jumps to the programs the Dome of a Home has been involved with on ABC affiliates. I, of course, assume that hurricane season is around the corner and Good Morning America would like to do a follow-up story. Well, we all know what happens when we ass-u-me.

The gentleman asks if I am familiar with the program Wife Swap. "What? What did you say?" I stutter. "Wife Swap? I thought that's what you said. You must have the wrong number. Wife Swap? Why would you be calling us?"



Evidently, this producer is a fan of dome homes and thought filming in the Dome of a Home would make a great episode of Wife Swap. I was honest with the producer and told him I had only watched about 10 minutes of one of the shows. Ten minutes was enough for me to be mortified and to ask out loud to an empty room, "Who would be on this show? Why would someone do this to themselves? Insanity!" The producer explained in detail the premise of the show: I spend two weeks with another family while the wife/mother of that family comes to live in my house. For the first week, it's business as usual in each of the households. (Each wife leaves a manual of instructions.) The second week, the "new" wife gets to run the house as she sees fit.

I laughed and told him that I was afraid the "new" wife wouldn't want to leave. I knew from the ten minutes I had seen on TV that they would pair me with…. Well, with someone whose ideas are diametrically opposed to my own. I'm open-minded, but two weeks with a man who lives in the Dark Ages is more than I can bear. Talk about stress upon stress. The money they offer for participating would not cover my therapy bills. So, a midst much laughter, I politely told him I didn't think so, but I would discuss it with my family.



The producer asked if I would answer a few questions. Sure, why not?
He asked what our daily routine was like and then he asked me two questions that would irrevocably alter my perception. What would I change about my children? Hmm…. Well, of course, I wish for them to be wiser, but essentially I would not change my children – even if I had the ability to do so. Then, he asked what I wanted to change about my husband. I laughingly told him that there was nothing I would change about my husband. I think he is a generous, compassionate, loving soul that I am privileged to know. I knew it was a sappy, hokey answer, but it was the truth.
In the midst of frustration, I have muttered under my breath about my kids and husband. But, when I took a moment and actually evaluated what my goals would be to change them, I realized with great joy in my heart that I truly love them for who and what they are. Now, when I am frustrated with my family, I remember the laughter and joy I felt when the ABC producer made me stop and realize how blessed I was.

We had our first 2006 clients in February. This family had originally booked the Dome of a Home for their daughter's wedding in September 2004. We were thrilled when they called to schedule their 25th wedding anniversary here. Lovely people, great clients and we hope very much to see them again.

It's been half a year since Hurricane Katrina inflicted her furious wrath upon the Gulf coast and mortified the entire nation. It's been a year and a half since Hurricane Ivan rocked our world on a very personal level. Adding insult to injury, Pensacola Beach was slammed by Hurricane Dennis last year, as well. For the collective survivors, the wounds each storm inflicted are still open and sore, not yet a scar. I can see the exhaustion etched across the faces of my coastal neighbors; I feel the pinch when making repairs as building expenses continue to escalate. The fearful anticipation is palpable as hurricane season draws ever closer and the predictions are even more dire than last year's. Recovery is illusive.



We just spent two beautifully warm weeks in Miami Beach. Although I definitely prefer the Emerald Coast's beaches, it was wonderful to go to the beach and not be assaulted with reminders of hurricane seasons past. Not usually an advocate of high maintenance manicured grounds, I actually found the ordered lawns refreshing, a nice change from the chaos we have experienced over the last several months. On our return trip, as soon as we reached the hurricane affected areas, the lesion was ripped open, yet again. What I am trying to say is that a year and half later, we have good days and bad days. I'll be going about my day and suddenly be overwhelmed with emotions. And our trauma was minimal compared to so many.

Hurricanes are life changing events – period. You cannot be affected by a storm and not be affected down to your very soul's core. After the storms, I reevaluated my entire life, asking: what is essential to my well-being; what is a restraint; what is worth saving and keeping in my life; what doesn't really matter in the whole scheme of things; what do I value and why? Examining my life helps me to heal, to find purpose in the madness, and to make sense out of the senseless.

But, for a community to heal, both emotionally and physically, the need for decisive and clear direction from our leaders, is imperative. Those directly involved with the storm are in shock and suffer from post traumatic stress. This includes local officials. We have to have compassion for our officials and remember that they are humans who are traumatized – just like you are. I can't imagine having to make decisions for my family and everyone else's too. When my kids are frightened and scared, I remember that the officials' families need reassurance, as well. So many demands in so many directions, how do they do it?



Everyone's entire world is turned upside down and all parameters of normalcy have dissipated in the rising winds. I am not pointing fingers or placing blame at anyone's feet. It's unfair to insist that the local officials should have known what to expect. Today, they'd know what to expect. Hindsight is a valuable tool. But, at the time of Hurricane Katrina, the local leaders' personal lives and the lives of their constituents faced complete annihilation with a natural disaster the size of Katrina. How do you prepare for the unfathomable?

Obviously, at the state and federal levels: where the command stations are not threatened by rising water and relentless wind; where food, water, fuel, and shelter are not an issue; where difficult decision making is not complicated by personal tragedy; and where dependable communication centers can disperse information. The magnitude of coordination needed for a natural disaster of Katrina's caliber was unfathomable. From the individual to the President, no one believed such tragedy could occur. This tragedy had been imagined by FEMA officials, scientists, meteorologists, etc. The scenario had been portrayed in various magazines and programs. The big What If. Yet, no one could believe. The inability to comprehend what was needed to prepare for Hurricane Katrina increased the tragedy factor. Now, the pertinent question is: If there was a repeat performance this year, would the outcome be any different.



The outcome could be different, better or worse, on a large scale or on a very local level. The decisions made today decide which outcome prevails. If you are rebuilding, is it another "temporary structure" that will need rebuilding after another hurricane? Or will you utilize stronger, better building techniques? Domes aren't the only answer. There are elements we used in building the Dome of a Home that can be incorporated into conventional structures. The foam we used can be used to increase a conventional structure's roof line and walls. An added benefit to the increased strength is the energy efficiency and the sound-proofing of the building. Another plus is the lack of fiberglass insulation to grow hidden mold and mildew in the walls. We are watching a superb structure being built on Pensacola Beach by the Elks Lodge. It is all concrete – even the walls! They are being put together like a 3-D puzzle. When we were in Miami, the construction techniques are noticeably different than the ones here. Absolutely no wood was being used in any of the construction of homes or businesses along the coast. It was all concrete.

It is vital that our local emergency personnel have somewhere safe and secure to coordinate local efforts at the site of the disaster.
A place that is pre-stocked for a disaster, natural or man-initiated.
A place that is Base of Operations.
A place that has been pre-determined to be safe, available, and ready with all necessary supplies and equipment to handle an emergency effectively.
A place that is a haven for the officials and personnel needed to re-establish the infrastructure after the disaster.
A place that is home away from home, an office away from the office, a station away from the station.

And those places should be a monolithic dome.
A dome would allow the necessary personnel to have the confidence in the coordination efforts, without fear that they will unnecessarily be placing their lives at risk to do their jobs. Domes have proven themselves to be the safest structure available when faced with earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, fires, and radiation fallout.

Evacuation shelters should be able to shelter the public from the threat outside. Many storm shelters could not withstand a Category 5 hurricane or F-5 tornado. The result is a large number of people gathered in one unsafe place – a potential mass grave. Why not give tax credits to businesses, churches and schools that build monolithic domes that can be used as an evacuation shelter? Not only do they have a cost effective, energy friendly building, they also receive a reward for their efforts. I grew up in Texas and was always terrified when the tornado warnings were issued. If I had known that the school's gymnasium was a "safe building" dome, my anxiety would have been considerably less acute.

Hurricane Katrina caught the attention of the entire nation with its surreal drama. At times I almost believed I was watching a B-movie on the Sci-Fi Channel, but then the human tragedy would pierce the numbing hurricane statistics. Numbing because I could not absorb what I was hearing - could not believe the stark reality of the disaster.
I am relieved to see that the news media is still covering these tragedies six months later. Lately, I have seen several programs discussing better building techniques using better building materials. This is encouraging and exactly the point Mark and the NBC news crew were trying to make when they stayed in the Dome of a Home for Hurricane Ivan. The lessons from the past two hurricane seasons do not need to be so easily forgotten, so easily dismissed. This is a story that has far reaching implications economically, socially, politically, etc.

While I am on my soapbox, I would like to encourage our legislatures to reign in the insanity of the insurance debacle that is bankrupting businesses and creating homeless families. The wind insurance argues that it was flood damage; the flood insurance company insists it was wind damage. And while they argue, the client lives in limbo or worse. Months go by, no money to make repairs so that you can move back home. In short, this is what happens:

Storm hits, your home is damaged, find a place to live temporarily.
File an insurance claim so that you can make repairs and move back home.
Wind insurance denies claim, flood damage blamed.
Flood denies claim, says to contact wind insurance company.
Home deteriorates even further. More and more extensive repairs
will be needed because it has been so long since the storm and
you have no money for repairs.
Bank accounts dwindle as you pay your mortgage on a damaged home,
your rent on the temporary space, and (love this one) the next
year's premiums for your wind and flood insurance. I want to scream
at them, "Just take my premiums out of the claim you owe me. I can't
pay the premiums until you pay my claim."
Still waiting on insurance claims to be paid, and the new hurricane season is here.
This is ridiculous!!! We buy insurance as a safeguard. Supposedly, the insurance companies work for us. Yeah, right. They have become like enemies. Our premiums are due on time or we are dropped. Why don't the insurance companies have a designated time to pay or else be required to pay exorbitant interest on the money they are withholding? After all, I am paying a high interest rate on the money I have to borrow just to survive until the insurance companies pay the claim. If they pay the claim….
And now, it is up to us to prove how and what affected our homes in a storm. Okay…. so we stay and film the storm as proof or …. Or what? What exactly are our alternatives? This is beyond belief: you have to prove whether it was wind or flood that took your house. It's no longer the insurance companies' responsibility to determine this. So, the policyholder will have to have a film or hire an engineer???



We need one insurance policy that covers our home. Period. This would eliminate the opposing companies pointing the finger continuously at the other. This bickering makes money for the insurance companies as our claims set in their accounts drawing interest. But, it bankrupts families and businesses. Even if it is legal, it is morally wrong. Give us one company to deal with. We are under enough stress without having to fight for what is owed to us. Hell, with the stress this inflicts, they should be paying psychiatric care, too. We paid the premiums, pay the claims.

And before you write about your tax dollars covering our damages, please realize that this is not the case. It is a closed system ---only those who pay in are eligible to file claims. No one pays in that isn't a policyholder. One-third of all people and businesses in the United States are located in a flood zone. An average of 1000 people a day move to the United State's coasts. We need viable building plans and community leadership as the population continues to grow.

With each hurricane strike, the hurricane season seems longer and longer.
The "off-season" seems shorter and shorter, each time we spend those six months repairing from the previous six months. And the off-season is filled with TV programs and magazine articles about hurricanes past and what the future may hold. Sometimes, I watch them with morbid fascination, sometimes it's too painful and I have to change the channel. The Weather Channel's Storm Stories about Grand Lagoon is a tear-jerker I have only been able to watch once. As if there wasn't enough real human drama, the TV is filled with "What If…" programs: Yellowstone; earthquake in San Francisco; hurricane in New York City. AAAAGGGGHHHH! I want to scream! But, I confess, I do watch them occasionally. LOL

Last week, we were watching Discovery Channel's EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT HURRICANES. It was a program I eagerly watched, seeing if I could glean anymore information about the upcoming hurricane season. All of sudden, Mark and I are on the screen strolling down the beach in front of our house. Then, there is an interview with Mark about the structural properties of the Dome. I was impressed by the graphics explaining why the Dome of a Home was better capable of withstanding a raging hurricane. I was impressed!!! with the program and with Mark. The realization of Mark's dream and the reality of its hurricane resistant qualities never ceases to amaze me.

The Dome of a Home was completed less than three years ago. When we began this project in 2001, our mission statement was:

Our mission is to help reduce the suffering associated with the destruction and loss of one's home in a natural disaster. We want to help promote awareness of the superior building technologies that can alleviate unnecessary losses. Many of the new technologies are more energy efficient and environmentally friendly than their predecessors allowing the construction of structures while protecting and preserving the delicate balance of nature.

Now, in less than three years, our efforts to promote awareness have exceeded our wildest dreams. The Dome of a Home has been on programs and in publications around the world. This thrills us because people are becoming aware of that choices do exist. We do not build domes, we are merely homeowners that are thrilled we found an option after experiencing repetitive storm damage. We want to share our experiences with other homeowners. Hurricanes are not the only disasters domes can withstand. Monolithic domes also fare earthquakes, tornadoes, fires, and radiation fallout extremely well.




With hurricanes such a hot topic right now, the Dome's reputation for durability and dependability has catapulted to the top of the media's awareness.
As hurricane season approaches, I have noticed some repeat programming featuring the Dome of a Home so you might see the Dome on your TV soon. If you do, please email me at domeofahome@aol.com and let me know where you saw it. I am trying to keep track of it, but I know I am missing several. Here is what I have:

TV:
National Geographic, the Travel Channel, the Weather Channel, Discovery Channel, Discovery Channel Canada, MSNBC news, Countdown with Keith Olberman, Scarborough Country, Good Morning America, CNN, several local affiliate ABC programs, Santa Rosa Insider, UK film: A Year Of Storms.

PRINT:
Walls and Ceilings; Civil Engineering; Architecture; Florida Travel; United Airline's Hemisphere's; UMRAN (Saudi Arabia); CKM (Polish); several articles in the Pensacola News Journal; some news articles on the AP distribution for newspapers from New York City to San Francisco.


Through the past few years, I have had several architectural students and professors contact me when they use the Dome of a Home as an example in their classrooms. We find it very exciting that in such a short time span, our major goal has been met. People are becoming aware of the superior qualities of a dome structure. Maybe the 100th Monkey Phenomenon will occur soon. http://www.newciv.org/pos/monkey.html

Once again, I would like to thank all of the people who continue to support our endeavors with their encouragement. We appreciate it very much.

The emotional rollercoaster sits ready at the gate to once again raise us to new heights, only to plunge us to deeper depths. The familiar butterflies fluttering in my stomach signal the anticipation of the unknown. I do believe they have taken up permanent residence. At least they have a permanent residence – unlike so many of my neighbors along the Gulf coast.

The déjà vu is not a mystery, nor an unexplainable phenomenon. Twelve years ago, Mark and I moved to Pensacola Beach. Dreams of retiring on the beach and raising our children in its small community created the eager anticipation I felt then. Nine storms later, the anticipation I feel is far from eager, it is dread.



I am becoming familiar with the emotional cycles of being a repeat hurricane survivor. Too familiar. The stages for me go something like this:

Storm season approaches and I hold my breath, praying that the storm god will exact his vengeance elsewhere. Or even better yet, that he has no vengeance in him this summer.

A storm is in the Gulf and its path is unknown. My quick glances at the perpetually playing Weather Channel silently beg for a prediction cone that completely ignores the Alabama/Florida coastline.

The insensitive prediction cone ignores my pleading and includes Pensacola Beach. The strength expected upon landfall is unknown, so we prepare for the worst. Actually, we (coastline residents) always have to prepare for the worst. There are so many unknowns; being prepared is not only for the Boy Scouts. If we prepared for a minimal storm and it gained in strength and speed, the meager preparations would be pointless. If we prepare for an intense storm and it exhausts itself before landfall, we gratefully count our blessings as we remove our shutters and take the generators back to storage.
With the intensity of the last two years' storms, a community panic sets in, creating
the need to prepare for the preparations. Ten years ago, I did not need to buy
barrels and barrels of gasoline or gallons and gallons of water as soon as a tropical depression was detected in the Gulf. Food, water, and gasoline literally disappear before my eyes. Who knew David Copperfield, master magician, was performing at the local Wal-Mart?

I wake up one morning and the Weather Channel has definitive projections on the size, strength, and predicted place of landfall. I rub the sleep from my eyes, thankful for my last night of real rest until this nightmare ends. I call my favorite weather man, Jim Cantore, ask him to pinch me and tell me it's not real, to go back to sleep, that I'm just having a bad dream. Adrenaline replaces my grogginess with alertness as Jim says to get prepared. By now, preparations are rote. I always want to be completely "ready" at least 24 hours in advance…just in case it doesn't follow the Weather Channel's parameters and decides to speed up.
"Completely ready." What a concept. I never really thought about it until I typed that sentence. How can a person be "ready" to have his/her life completely turned upside down for the next few years? Can a person pre-prepare to be psychologically thrown into such turmoil? Although the storm lasts days, the devastation is interminable. After Hurricane Katrina in 2005, I heard a psychologist on the news explain that
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder doesn't really hit a person until eighteen months after the event. Eighteen months? Well, hell, then I have PTSD on top of PTSD, on top of more PTSD. I don't think we have gone more than 18 months without a storm affecting us on some level.
Even if the storm doesn't make a direct hit on your home, your body is pumped
full of adrenaline each and every time a storm is named in the Gulf of Mexico.
As I carry the lawn furniture upstairs, help Mark tape the windows, decide how far we will travel, and load up the cars, my consciousness recedes with the rote behavior. The action actually is comforting, better than the inactivity of waiting. The procedures are so mechanical by now, I feel detached from their implications. Detachment. It can be your friend or your enemy, but necessary for me if I am to survive the perpetual storm cycles.

The calm before the storm. I never understood that saying until I moved to Pensacola Beach. The gathering forces of the hurricane suck the humidity off of the beach, leaving a beautiful, clear day and an exquisitely star filled night. As the storm draws nearer, bands of clouds approach, swirling against the still blue sky. Within several hours, I know the gentle breeze will begin gusting; the gently lapping waves will morph into lashing walls of water eroding the protective strip of sand that separates my house from the ocean; and the sky will darken with threatening storm clouds. When the beach is in its beautiful "calm before the storm" stage, I can barely get my brain around the fact that just miles from the beach a monster swirls in a ravenous rage, ready to once again devour my life as I know it. Before I evacuate, I sit on the beach, gazing around, drinking in the beauty; knowing full well that this could be the last time the beach looks this way. I ride my bicycle around the island, waving to neighbors, stopping to discuss evacuation plans with friends, sharing hugs and wishes that all will be well when we return. Despair and hope linger in the atmosphere. Many of us have done this many times. Veterans. You'd think we would know better by now and just bail. All I can say is that it is not as easy as it seems.

Evacuating the beach evokes a myriad of emotions. Being forced from my home sends my emotions through their own tumultuous storm. Not that I want to stay, I don't. But, the powerlessness I feel in regards to the impending storm is magnified by the mechanical voice of the local officials announcing the mandatory evacuation through their bullhorns. Poignant memories assail me. Love and laughter with friends and family; the blood, sweat, and tears of remodeling and rebuilding repetitively; breathtaking sunsets; bicycle rides with friends; solitary walks on a foggy beach; a pregnant full moon rising from the ocean's depths, the light shimmering brilliantly as the waves bring the reflection ashore. Wonderful memories I cherish. Encroaching on the Kodak moments are the gut-wrenching memories of returning after a storm to find our home wounded and wet, inside and out. I am nauseous as I mentally review the trauma of displacement; of my neighbors and friends being scattered across the region; of living like a refugee for months on end; of fighting the frustrating battle with the insurance companies; of not being able to locate reputable labor to begin repairs; of knowing that even if we manage to make the repairs, we could be doing it all again next year.



The storm strikes. I am watching the news coverage constantly --- to the uninitiated, that means I have evacuated far enough away to not be affected by power outages. My veteran status has taught me that much. I see no need to brutalize myself by living through the storm and the immediate aftermath. If I have repairs to make, I need to be as refreshed as possible, not suffering from heat exhaustion. When the storm strikes the beach, the residents cannot immediately return to their properties. We must wait for the officials to open the bridges and arrange for transportation to the neighborhoods. Frustration is inevitable, but rather than frantically pace in a hot, humid self-imposed prison, I choose to enhance my emotional well-being by resting in an air-conditioned place complete with amenities. Instead of aimlessly pacing, I surf the internet eager for the first trickling of pictures and reports. The Pensacola News Journal does the community a wonderful service by allowing anyone to post digital pictures of the area on their web site. I also have angels on line who converse with me on our web site's forum. www.domeofahome.com I cannot express how much their supportive comments boost my morale.

The storm has dissipated and now we assess the damage. In horror, we try to absorb the mangled messes we see. We need to report back to our friends about the status of their homes. After an interminable excursion of two miles to our home, we give our home a cursory once over from outside. Doors, windows, any breaches in the structure? Landscaping and the pool are expected casualties once again. No surprises there. It's time to find a way into the home. Did the ladder we left for re-entry get swept away? That's a yes. Okay, let's find an orphaned ladder somewhere in this debris and get into the house. The humid heat is sweltering, and the sun's intense light focuses onto our unwelcoming backs. Let's get into the house and drink some of that water I collected during the preparation stage. We manage to get into the house, turn up our noses at the mildew smell permeating every nook and cranny, and douse ourselves inside and out with water. We look around, make a general list of immediate concerns, and tell ourselves it could be much worse. It is definitely lemonade time. We count our blessings and fret over how much worse it could have been. We have to take the lemons and make lemonade. We have to – it is vital for our emotional survival. Somehow the situation seems less daunting when we compare them to what could've been.
After resting a bit at the house, we walk the neighborhoods with pen in hand. Some neighbors have traveled hundreds of miles and won't be back for a while. We need to report to them; the unknown is the worst. You can't make a game plan until you know what needs to be done. And having a game plan is also an essential element of emotional survival. What I find interesting and disturbing is that I can pass by a damaged home for months and not really see it. Then, one day, I am walking by and I actually see the ruined building. I am shocked that I hadn't noticed before. My theory is that I can only absorb so much devastation at one time. As I digest my first helping, more information can be assimilated.

Weeks later, the power is on and repairs can begin in earnest. Well, if we had our insurance claim payment and could find laborers, we could begin. Frustration overwhelms us as we want, no need, to start the repair process, yet cannot. At this point, I am usually ready to bail out. I have had enough, I am ready to sell and could care less if I never see a beach again in my life. I am in the middle of a nervous breakdown and am ready to hide from it all. I want to run away and never return. I want it to be a chapter in a book that I incinerate. I cannot keep doing this, it is absolutely insane. What the bleep do we think we are doing? I am so traumatized that I am numb….almost. Not quite detached enough to be unaware of my fragile state of mind.

Finally the repairs begin. The house begins to show its beauty once again. The repairs become improvements, and I become attached once again to my home. The better it looks, the better I feel. When normalcy reappears, so does my desire to stay. I fall in love with the beach again and beg the water to let me visit her instead of her coming to my home. And in the deep recesses of my soul, there is a seed of hope. A fragile flower lifting her face to the sun, my hope blossoms into a desire to remain a resident on Pensacola Beach. I fertilize my hope by counting my blessings and verbalizing why I am grateful to live on the beach. Before long, I am determined to stay.

Which brings me to the stage I currently find myself in: a mix of emotions so varied I worry that I am in the worst stages of a multi-personality disorder. I am writing this in January 2006, sixteen months after Hurricane Ivan and less than a year since Hurricanes Dennis and Katrina. I have the delusional hope that we may escape catastrophic damage this year, yet the sense of dread has taken up residence in my gut once again. I love the improvements to the house, and I do not want to move away from my community and friends. But, acknowledging that we could be making the same repairs a year from now is distressing. So, it's a hope against hope kind of day. My fellow islanders reassure me that we couldn't have another year like the last two. Says who? Their denial mirrors my own. Their seed of hope combines with mine to create a fragrant bouquet of the lemons we will be making into lemonade.

I write this as the 2006 Hurricane season is winding down. So far, none of the monster storms predicted for this year has manifested. Relieved? Beyond belief! After a huge sigh of relief, I realize I have been holding my breath in fearful anticipation for the last several months. You know what I mean. All of a sudden, you inhale a huge gulp of air, suddenly realizing you had been starving yourself of oxygen for the last several moments. Being able to relax this summer has been rejuvenating, refreshing, and enabled me to recharge my batteries.

Living in a state of adrenaline is deadly. It is supposed to be a mechanism for survival with an immediate fight or flight response. But, there is nothing immediate about a hurricane. First, it is the watch and wait as the cone of prediction includes your place of residence. Then, there are years of rebuilding, fighting with the insurance companies, and waiting for the next storms to threaten.
What happens when we live in extended states of fearful flight or fight mode?
We age prematurely and become sick.
Adrenaline doesn't allow the other systems to function properly: digestion, immune response, reproduction, sleep processes and mental acuity all suffer when we stay in the fight or flight mode.

How do we combat months and months of stress with no end in sight?
Find a method that will get you back in the parasympathetic state of being. The ways are as varied as the situations people find themselves in. Whether it is meditation, prayer, weight training, walking, support groups, hobbies, friends, movies or books, find a way to remember to BREATHE!
My daughter calls me sometimes when she is stressed out and invariably the conversation commences with her saying, "I know, Mom, I need to breathe."
I know all of this, and yet, I find that for the last several months I have been holding my breath.

I didn't grasp the full weight of the worry until I finally let myself believe that the season really is going to be a quiet one. We actually went a year without storm preparation or repairs?!?!? When all of the dire forecasts were being broadcast for the 2006 season, Mark said we wouldn't be hit this year and not to worry. In the past 12 years, he hasn't ever been wrong. He called Erin and Opal in 1995; Georges in 1998; Ivan in 2006; Dennis in 2005; and none for this year. From now on, I am only going to become worried when Mark gets worried. I'll let him be my own personal Weather Man. What can I do with all the energy I spent on worrying?

And time! All the "extra" time we have had to take care of things unrelated to hurricane repairs has been very productive. Who knew? It's been so long since we have had a summer to do something besides build or rebuild our home. I am working on revamping the web site with a virtual tour and flash technology. Mark has been able to work on some projects the cabin desperately needed.
And we have had time to breathe a bit.

Today, I am grateful for the snow falling outside my window as I write this. I can be here to experience the mountainous beauty found in winter because I am not in Florida making hurricane repairs.

We appreciate SARE for bringing attention to National Geographic's program HURRICANE SUMMER. Below is an excerpt from their web site.

http://lists.ifas.ufl.edu/cgi-bin/wa.ex ... mp;P=19121

SARE Provides Grants and Information to Improve Profitability, Stewardship and Quality of Life

Explore the Awesome Power of Mother Nature in National Geographic Channel's World

WASHINGTON, Sept. 29 /PRNewswire/ -- CHARLEY. FRANCES. IVAN. JEANNE. In the span of six weeks, four powerful hurricanes devastated the Caribbean and Florida, leaving behind thousands dead; billions of dollars in damages; and a relief effort that even eclipsed the one following the 2001 terrorist attacks. Not since 1886 have four major storms battered one state in such a short time span. But what factors contributed to this summer's unprecedented barrage of storms? And what's it like to come face to face with this relentless destructive power -- and live to tell about it?

On Tuesday, October 5 at 9 p.m. ET/PT, experience firsthand the fury of these violent storms as National Geographic Channel's "Hurricane Summer" takes viewers from the eye of these monsters to the personal stories on the ground. Meet a scientist who searches for clues by flying into these storms. Relive accounts of unimaginable loss and dramatic survival from Florida residents. And learn why a one-degree rise in water temperatures may have helped set in motion the forces that led to this historic season of destruction.

When hurricanes threaten, most people head for safety. But for NOAA hurricane expert Chris Landsea, the study of these deadly storms is his life. His goal is to measure firsthand each storm's destructive power in the hope that his work will help predict the path of its devastation. Landsea flew into all four storms that struck Florida, adding to his understanding of this hurricane summer and his terrifying prediction that this new active hurricane cycle could last another 40 years. In fact, as Landsea explains, scientists have confirmed that the Atlantic Ocean has warmed one degree, which many hypothesize is enough to create a catastrophic hurricane cycle.

The special also features a couple determined to beat Mother Nature. The Sigler family built their dream home in Pensacola Beach, FL, only to see it destroyed by previous hurricanes. Instead of abandoning their dream, this determined couple set out to build a hurricane proof house. After intense research and detailed design by a group of highly trained architects and engineers, the Sigler's built a massive, round "Dome Home," capable of withstanding winds of more than 300 mph. As Ivan approached, Mr. Sigler got permission to stay behind, and weather the storm. Taking an almost direct hit, Sigler tells of his experience, and how the "Dome Home" handled her first major test.

As the Atlantic Ocean calms for the time being, Floridians breathe a sigh of relief. But if weather experts are to be believed, this is just the beginning.

Based at National Geographic Society headquarters in Washington, D.C., the National Geographic Channel is a joint venture between National Geographic Television & Film (NGT&F) and Fox Cable Networks. National Geographic Channel debuted to an initial 10 million homes in January 2001, and has been one of the fastest growing networks in history. The Channel has carriage with all of the nation's major cable and satellite television providers, making it currently available to more than 52 million homes. For more information, please visit http://www.nationalgeographic.com/channel.