Prepping « Robin Writes

I’m no stranger to flooding, having grown up in the Missouri River bottoms. One of my earliest memories is down on the family farm looking at the high-water marks left from 1953 onward. In 1986, I was no longer living at home, but we drove in to see the devastation. That one dampened the basement, but the flood of ’93 came up several feet into the house.

Since we moved into our current home, we’ve had a little sogginess in the bedrooms and garage, but then in June a couple years ago, we had to pull three rooms of carpet and replace a lot of drywall. Inches in the bathroom, and all over the edges of the living areas.

Basically, floods seem to follow me.

Now, this year, this month, Missouri is underwater. Mostly. Our plan today was to drive to the farm to drain the water pipes in the house before the freezing temps in a few days. Typically, if your pipes are in insulated walls, you’re fine unless the mercury dips below 20.

We’re not taking any chances, not with new tile and cabinets all over the place.

However, the best laid plans and all that . . .

My husband left an hour ago for the farm. His new plan is to heat up the house, drain the pipes, and head back tomorrow. Going down there has its challenges, as part of the interstate is very, very close to flooded roads, but the rivers are still rising in spite of the rain stopping yesterday.

Well over flood stage is expected over the next few days, so the timing of his trip back may be questionable.

Funny how, when prepping, we don’t often think of floods as an impediment to bugging out. Since most of the weather around here, and between here and there, is generally moderate for at least 9-10 months of the year, we usually think of manmade obstacles.

This is kind of a wake-up call, and I’d urge everyone to not only think about and plan for typical disasters, or even some expected ones, but really—who knew we’d be flooding in December?

Again, the getting there isn’t the problem, at least today; so, if we were bugging out now, we’d go. No questions asked. The time is now, as the rivers are still rising.

Kind of feel like I’m playing Oregon Trail.

In a snowfall situation, same thing. Sometimes you have to make a decision right away, and act on it. No dilly-dallying. Much, much better to leave and maybe come back than to wait until it’s too late.

Of course, you also want to know that where you’re going is safe. Our farm house, for instance, is on a hill. We have great visibility and good drainage, once you get there. That part can be tricky, but once we’re in, we’re in to stay and we have no worries about surviving from that point on.

And it makes it more difficult for anyone we don’t want there to actually arrive.

This is liable to be a hot topic, especially in light of recent media coverage. Many advocate everyday carry, concealed or open depending on your state’s laws, but relatively few people practice this.

Some carry all day long, indoors and out, everywhere they go; some only when they’re traveling in a “bad” area or out in the woods, and some, of course, have weapons available at home for defense.

For myself, I’m do a little of all of these things: in town, I have Bob—that’s his name—next to my bed, unless there’s rioting going on in the area. Hey, I live in the STL metro area, it happens . . . if it’s going on, Bob moves around the house with me, usually sitting on my desk when I’m working in the office. He definitely travels with me to certain areas, but not to the grocery store or on most errands.

Out at the farm, Bob sits on my desk or the kitchen table, or he goes to the barn or garden or out in the woods with me. Not because I’m afraid of people, but we do have a good-sized snake population. If it’s a venomous variety, it dies.

In either location, if someone comes to the door who I’m not expecting, Bob comes along for the ride.

And you might laugh, but I don’t carry loaded. See, my Glock’s safety is in the trigger and I really don’t want to accidentally shoot someone—or myself. But I practice changing out that mag constantly and I’m very, very fast.

I don’t yet believe that we’ve come to the point where carrying a weapon all over town is necessary. Concealed or open. In fact, I’m not real big on open carry—to me, that’s kind of like having a huge, jacked-up truck. We all know what you’re really concealing there, dude.

The odds of being in a situation where you need to have your weapon, out in public, are really quite small, at least for the time being. And if you’re in a situation like that, you might want to think about where you’re traveling and why and even when. Statistically, if you’re walking down a dark alley in the middle of the night, you’re much more likely to be attacked. So, um, don’t do that, ‘kay?

Sure, there are incidents, recently, where a weapon may have come in handy—and I say “may” because this isn’t Hollywood. Not the movies, ‘kay?

You can practice for and mentally prepare for a situation such as San Bernardino, but until something actually happens, it’s very hard to say how you’re going to react. Believe me. Unless you have a military or LEO background, you’re just a person with a weapon that might make you feel safer, but again, the odds of having to use it and being able to do so are pretty small.

Think about it: a guy jumps in front of you, a big, hulking type, and waves a weapon in your face. Are you really going to be able to pull out your own gun and shoot first, or are you going to be hoping that he doesn’t notice you just peed your pants?

Or what if you’re at the movies and someone starts shooting? Duck and cover, right? Would you really have the presence of mind to pull out your gun, look over the back of that seat and fire back? Think of all the noise, all the confusion . . . I’m not saying you couldn’t, but a real situation is much different than daydreaming about the potential scenario.

It takes a lot more than merely being armed to be effective in an active shooter situation.