No, no, not her.
That's my wild Iowa woman, aka Doris, aka Football Momma.
She's my favorite wild woman.
Hasn't done as much damage as the other three, though. Not yet, anyway.
No, my three wild Virginia women are Isabelle, Irene, and Sandy.
Now, Isabelle came into my life about . . . hmm. Let me think. Been so many of 'em.
Oh, yeah. It was 2003. Here's a picture. Isn't she just the prettiest thing you've ever seen?
This one was taken by NASA. I've got a raft of my own pictures, but they're there and I'm here so they aren't handy. They're in Ohio, I mean, and I'm in Virginia. Waitin' on the next wild woman, name of Sandy.
Oh, wait. Forgot to tell you about Irene. She wasn't as wild as Isabelle, but it was still an experience.
She produced a pretty big storm surge.
You can read all about my adventures with Irene, here.
Anyway, now I'm waitin' on Sandy to show up. Typical woman. Takes her a long time to put it all together. She's out in the Atlantic somewhere, gettin' ready, wants to make a real splash when she shows up. You know, grand entrance and all that.
So yesterday we left Ohio, headed for Virginia, me and my faithful navigator.
No, you've got it wrong. My navigator's on the left, just over my hand, name of Garmin. That's my copilot on the right.
Anyway, it was a good day for ducks and hurricanes. Pretty sloppy weather.
Doris drove a bit, so I got a little work done on Falcon Down.
But she didn't want to take on the West Virginia Speedway, I mean, Turnpike. So I had to take on the wild West Virginia drivers.
Still a dash of color in Virginia. The weather had cleared up a bit, too.
So, it's Sunday morning. I've spent some time with Luke, the beloved physician. And now I'm watching the rain on the river, waiting for that wild, wild woman, Sandy.
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