To Oz

So, last night, I check the weather before I leave work. A few showers. I decide to leave my galoshes at the office. Which was fine. I got to a friend's house to pick her up to go to the market before the rain started. The sky did not look good. I said, "Turn on the TV." Sure enough. From my leaving work to then, about 1 hour, it had gone from a few showers to "Head for the cellar, Auntie Em."

I told my friend she'd better secure her tomato plants (pure greed on my part - I've got at least 2 pounds of Cherokee purples with my name on them). She says, "Oh, it's nothing. They have these warnings all the time." Now, I'm looking at the map on TV. The big red box (and big red boxes are never good) is heading our way. Dead on. No veering. "Humor me." So we at least move the tomato box. 5 minutes later, the winds hit. They're telling us that it's 75 to 80 miles an hour with the danger of rotation. This does bad things to plants. So she's out in the first whip of rain, trying to tie down the other tomato plant that's in the ground.

I'm standing under the most secure part of the house. Tomatoes me damned. I'm from Texas. This cowgirl don't play when the sky turns green. And my eyes are glued to the TV. Believe me. By now, I don't need the play by play from the weather man. I need to be able to see the map. I know which marks are lightning strikes, which ones are rotation and which ones are screw-you-your-little-dog-too-I'm-getting-in-the-tub. They can laugh at me if they want to. I've seen what a tornado can do.

This morning (yes, everything was fine, no Munchkins when we looked out the door after the storm), the storms fired up again. It was raining so hard that I didn't hear my alarm clock go off. The train kept having electrical problems all the way downtown. And the wash that we pass over that is generally empty was full bank-to-bank. The lightning and thunder don't seem to want to settle down. The rumbles, the flashes and the threatening clouds. It's all just put me on edge.

Welcome to Tornado Alley.