August 25, 2011


Oh, Aunty Em

I shouldn't be here at my computer; I should be out back picking up branches and walnuts and debris from my littered yard. Actually, it's the greenest my lawn has looked in 6 weeks, all those leaves on it.

Stormy enough weather for ya? The other day in the middle of the afternoon, my phone rang. It was Roz. She was outside of her house, freaking out. She said her house had swayed and she bolted. She called me. My first question was "you're positive your house had a seizure? You're sure you didn't?". Cruel, maybe, but I often leap to medical conclusion rather than natural disastery ones. Of course it was the earthquake. Roz is fine.

I was out last night when she called my cell phone. She never calls my cell phone. "Did you know there are tornado warnings all over the place? I tried to call your house. The boys are just shrugging!" she said. I shrugged. Okay, okay, not really. I knew it was windy (I'd been along the shores of Lake Erie much of the day, and it was windy). I told her not to worry, the boys knew what to do, and I'd be home shortly.

As I drove home, I realized (with a healthy assist from 680 News) just how crazy it was. I called Christer, and yelling into the bluetooth crazy things like "get into the basement! There's a warning over the house RIGHT THIS MINUTE!". I didn't know *exactly* where the warning was, but with Christer, it's best to just yell things in an alarming way and hope for the best. He said Ari was already in the basement - that's where his computer is. I told him to pull the awning in. His reply? "I'm not going out there! There's all kinds of crap blowing around!". So I yelled to get in the basement. Apparently, it was bad enough to prevent him preventing an expensive awning from blowing away, but not bad enough to run for cover like zoo animals who have telekinetic weather paws and know when bad things are going to happen.

As I drove home believing I was recreating that Twister movie (I'd take the Helen Hunt role; we kinda look alike anyway), I came over the unlit Skyway Bridge. Traffic lights were out, and huge branches had parts of roads closed. I hopped out and took a pic of one huge tree that was down. Sirens wailed; I prayed my dear sons would be safe. I fell in the front door, thrilled we still had power. Christopher looked up. "Oh, hi. You got any food with you? Maggie grabbed some of my pizza and tugged it onto the floor, so I didn't want to eat it after she'd licked it. I'm still hungry."

Sigh.

4 Comments:

Anonymous jmd said...

I was trying to herd Larry and Mrs. Bingleman into the basement before the apocalypse came, and then I thought, wait, aren't we supposed to get in the bathtub? Something about it being the sturdiest section of the house? By the time I remembered no, that's for earthquakes, the cats had scattered and I thought, p*ss on it, we'll all go out with a bang. Needless to say, we all survived.

August 26, 2011 8:42 AM  
Blogger Lorraine said...

I'm sorry. I'm sitting here laughing at the thought of you actually trying to herd cats.

You all only need to watch this space for instructions of What To Do.

Roz is my emergency preparedness plan. I'm just going there. She stockpiles water and stuff, and knows which archway/tub/basement/fallout shelter to run for as soon as she sees swirly clouds forming over any ocean.

August 26, 2011 10:59 AM  
Anonymous PJ said...

A club I belonged to has a yearly event. Trying to get a consensus of how to run said event was almost impossible. On one occasion when things were particularly onerous one member quipped: This is like trying to herd cats! It summed things up perfectly.

August 26, 2011 8:22 PM  
Blogger Chris Brown (not the felon) said...

We were at Cirque du Soleil's incredible Totem that night. We heard the thunder and heard Niagara Falls hit the tent. I remember thinking "if these metal poles that hold the tent up get hit by lightning there will be 20 cast members (who were all holding onto metal poles, and wires, and various circus paraphernalian that attracts lightning like cow paddies attract flies) and about 200 audience members that will look like leftovers from the Galloping Gourmet's "Burning Dinner" special episode (June 12, 1984).

The show continued uninterrupted, and the only fatalities involved my wallet (which I don't really carry but use as a metaphor) and my sanity. I will never be able to figure out how they do that stuff.

August 26, 2011 9:15 PM  

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