Bits for Sunday, June 1

I have written before about my fear of storms. I’ve never been fond of them, but my fear grew rather significantly in the summer of 1998 when a tornado passed through town and I thought for sure my parents (who were watching from the front yard) were going to visit Oz. Each year that passed after that tornado, my fear subsided some, but my sister’s tornado (why do I call it that?? It’s not as if she owned it…) intensified the nerves again.

I don’t know what the weather was like in your piece of the planet Friday night, but here we experienced what the weather man called “tornadic activity.” That was a new one for me. Was it supposed to calm me somewhat? “Well, folks, we don’t really have a tornado, but we do have tornadic activity.” Oh. So that would explain why the tree in my backyard is knocking on the door. Got it.

At this time, I should probably mention that I don’t really watch the weather. My idea of watching the weather is sending an instant message to Kurt (at work) saying “Any idea if it’s supposed to rain tonight? I need to mow.” Kurt, who should receive a part time paycheck from the Weather Channel can bring me up to date in half the time it would take me to log onto the website, enter my zip code, decipher the map…

Kurt wasn’t at work on Friday and I didn’t need to mow, so consequently I failed to check the weather. I had plans to hang out in Kokomo with one of my friends from high school. She promised me we could breathe the Hobby Lobby air (moment of silence for its departure from my fine town…….) and then we could go out to eat. Better than a trip to Disney.

To my credit, I had heard that it might rain – perhaps even storm – that night. But you see, night to me means sometime after midnight when I don’t care. Even so, I made sure the umbrella was packed securely in the car. I changed into post workday clothing and headed to town. A Hobby Lobby town.

Oh….just to be inside the Hobby Lobby. It was amazing. I found $33 worth of clearance items that made my entire day. I walked out with visions of my bathroom mini-makeover dancing in my head. (Two of the purchases were for that adventure.) I kept walking, imagining cards I could make with the three new stamps. Just as I was about to plot the hanging of garden lanterns around the patio, I stopped to re-enter the conversation of where to eat.

Let me just say that we’re two girls who would rather eat a bowl of spinach than make a decision. We had several options and I was literally pulling paper out of my purse to write them down and draw one out when Amber said, “Let’s just go to Culver’s.” YAY!!! I had my heart set on ice cream anyway. (After telling this story to my niece last night, I realized not everyone may be familiar with Culver’s. It’s like Dairy Queen – only better. And bigger. And LOTS more windows. That will be meaningful in a minute.)

As we exited the car to go into Culver’s, I debated taking the umbrella. But it’s so big and I really thought we were safe for a while longer, so I left it. We settled into our booth to devour butter burgers (best invention in fast food EVER) and milkshakes…and it began to rain. Harder and harder. Then it began to blow. And I haven’t seen a lightning storm like that for…years, I’m sure. (Did I mention this place has lots of windows?) The employees, clearly not knowing my fear of storms, switched the TV to the Weather Channel, which was one giant blob of red, tickers, and buzzing. How comforting. Add to that the rather piercing storm sirens outside, and I began to exhibit the deer-in-headlight look.

Amber kept asking if I was okay, and I assured her I was…and truly I thought I was being honest. Then the manager made his rounds, informing each table of diners that should things get even the tiniest bit worse, we would all need to take shelter in the cooler. I took a look around at the people in the restaurant. With all due love and respect, Amber and I were in a vast minority on size. And we were the farthest from the cooler. So I was guessing by the time we got there – even if they’d tossed out all the custard mix and frozen butter burgers, there would not be room for us.

That’s when I called my parents. They were having a party…not a planned one. A storm party. The neighbors were over…they were hanging out in the basement…talking on the phone…having a grand time. I explained the impending cooler situation. And do you know what my mother said? My own mother? She said, “Well, at least if you die, you won’t decompose much.” I asked to speak to Dad. You know what he said? “Are you ready to die?” Well, yes, but I had rather hoped it wouldn’t be tonight in a cooler at Culver’s with a bunch of people twice my size and three times my age!

Fortunately the rather obnoxiously loud group of women behind me chose that moment to accidentally dump a salad on the floor…an action that led to a comment I can’t repeat in print and several minutes of literal cackling. Annoying, yes, but at least it provided a distraction.

About a half hour later, Amber and I decided we did not want to die in Culver’s, and the storm probably wouldn’t get worse or better before it closed, so we just left. I continued to regret my decision to leave the umbrella in the car. I stopped at my parents’ house on the way home and planned to hang out for a bit, but an uprooted tree in their yard made me wonder what I would find at my own place. And I was pretty sure the kiddos would be scared. So I left. I do think the kiddos were scared, but more than that, I think they were just annoyed that their evening treat was delayed by my night on the town.

I slept on the living room floor, in my shopping outfit, with the TV on. Not the best night of sleep ever, but it sure beat the daylights out of the Culver’s cooler with the cackling women.