Since Kansas and Oklahoma and Colorado refused to be wiped off the map by an exceedingly premenstrual Mother Nature she is moving her fury this direction, so today’s gonna be fun. Watches and warnings and having to refill my anxiety medication once everything settles down will all be in order, I’m sure. Jack and I prepared last night by.. um… lowering the umbrella on our patio table. I also brought in the sunscreen so it wouldn’t get blown away or watered down. That stuff’s nearing $10 a tube. My neighbors across the way are preparing by mowing their yard. At 8:00 a.m.. Because Mother Nature hates an unkempt lawn – especially on a long holiday weekend. (Sidenote: Jack has informed me that neighbor across the way is cutting his lawn way too short and it will be scorched and patchy for the rest of the summer. Jack is a Junior Yard King. Our lawn was mowed on the mower’s highest setting the second Jack returned from my nephew’s graduation in Colorado. He will mow it again Wednesday evening once the storms have passed and the sun has done its drying thang. Provided of course we have not been blown away by Mother Nature’s wrath.)
So while on the outside I am James Dean with the coolness, I have to admit that my insides are a bit skittish. I don’t like storms and I especially don’t like tornados. I’m not sure there are many people who do, but since this is my blog and it’s all about me, I’m just going to assume that I dislike storms that quite possibly might produce tornados way more than you. I wasn’t kidding about filling the anti-anxiety prescription. It was a bad experience with an upward warm current mixing with a downward cold current that scarred me psychologically and really (physiologically) changed me. (No, really. I saw it on the Discovery Channel. When you suffer physical or emotional trauma it does things that changes your body’s chemistry so when you hear people say, “She weren’t ever the same after that,” it’s true – especially on a chemical level.) In an hour I will ruin my daughters’ days by collecting them from their perspective sleepovers and I will rest a bit easier knowing my little chickens are back in the nest. I will take a shower and put in effort with my hair because I’ll want to look pulled together and well-coiffed when the local news interviews me about the destruction. I will discreetly fill a backpack with emergency supplies and put it in the basement because if Jack sees me doing it his vibe towards me will be a palpable one of over-reacting psycho. Which I’m not.