We’re having severe weather tonight, which means the weather man gets nearly unlimited airtime to mispronounce the names of all the towns in the area, and everybody else goes out for a round of storm chasing. Well, storm chasing lite. I’m not driving into the thick of it, and I’m not replacing my windshield with bullet proof glass, but a thunderstorm? I’m there.
Family tradition.
The guy on the radio says “You should all take cover, NOW!” and everybody in the car looks at each other and says, “Oh?”
The guy on the radio also has a number of suggestions for sleeping arrangements which involve in a bathtub, under a mattress, and in the basement of a church six blocks away.
As a concession, I did lock the cat in the basement, just in case.
And off we go.
And because I’m pretty sure I live in a Monty Python episode, the severe weather alert was weirdly specific, tonight. Like… down to several two-mile segments of the highway I was on. (Between mile marker 152 and 154 will be affected. As will mile markers 170-176, 134, and 22.) Uh-huh. I was passing them as the weather man was reading them off, and I can tell you… there’s nothing there.
There’s a certain distortion to the radar, as well.
What do we get? Thunder, lightening, a tiny bit of hail, and very, very wet.
Four seasons around here: Tornado; Drought/Heat Prostration; Football; and Blizzard.
And I’m not sleeping under a mattress for any of them.
Rhonda Strong Gilmour
Juneta