The tornado sirens went off about fifteen minutes ago, and without a word, Meelyn stood up from her seat at the dining room table where she was engaged in a geometry lesson, She took her book -- what a dedicated scholar that girl is! -- and went into the downstairs bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. Aisling stood up too, but she picked up her mug of hot chocolate instead of her vocabulary textbook.
"Why are you still sitting there at the computer?" she asked me fussily, one hand on her hip.
I, the veteran of many a tornado siren, tend to follow in the path of my forebears, which dictates that when the tornado sirens go off, you DO NOT go into hiding: you go out on your front porch and scan the heavens for a twister. I was too busy with my email to go to the front porch, but sitting at my desk gives me an excellent view of the western sky through the big window.
"I am monitoring the storm," I said absently, tapping away vigorously on the keyboard.
"Are you coming to the bathroom?" she asked me impatiently.
I glanced up at her. "No, I am not. Because if I'm closed in the bathroom with you, your sister and the dogs, I will not be able to see if there's something headed our way."
Meelyn opened the bathroom door a crack and peered out to say, "So are you planning to be one of those people on the news who says, 'I was just settin' there on t'porch and BLAM! That there tornado come by and throwed me out inta the yard and I broke my arm and got hit upside the head with the rake handle.'"
"The rake is downstairs in the basement with all the other garden tools."
"SERIOUSLY, Mother!" Aisling yelled. "Come into the bathroom where it's safe! YOU ARE SETTING A TERRIBLE EXAMPLE." She snatched Zuzu up from the pillow upon which she was reclining like a Roman emperor's wife, and flounced into the bathroom, shutting the door with a sharp bang behind her.
I looked at Hershey, who was stretched out on the floor under the table. He has never gone willingly into a bathroom since he was a very young puppy, shrewdly construing that, bathrooms? Those are the places where you get a BATH and he's perfectly fine with his ingrained dirt. He met my eyes and his tail flopped on the floor three times -- wag wag wag -- as if to say, "Feel free to go on in there if you want to, but me? I think I'll just stay ri-i-i-ight here."
The storm was a quick-moving system and it blew by us in about six or seven minutes, leaving us with the strong winds, yes, but also with a nice, strong rain that is currently splashing against the windows. The girls came out of the bathroom rather sheepishly. Aisling set Zuzu (who seemed to think that we were playing some extra-fun new game and did it involve doggie treats?) back down on her pillow, where she stood for a moment, ears raised expectantly before lying back down with a deep sigh of disappointment.
"Well, that was much ado about nothing," Meelyn said.
"Late October, Tuesday morning, Indian Summer, changing seasons....nothing to see here," I added, returning to my email.
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I was at Guerin with a room full of senior math students when it all came through so we shut off the lights so we could all watch it blowing by...raining racing by the window at speeds unheard of, lightening, winds, etc. Well, because we didn't have a front porch available and all. Nick P wanted to go out and run around in it, the girls all wanted to hide under the desks. These types of things are why they wrote the book Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. Alive and well in senior math class this Tuesday. I have the same sort of genetic stock...let's just go out and check it out to see for sure...ooops...there's that pesky rake handle!!
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