Last night, when Chris left to go grocery shopping, there were just a few clouds in the sky and a chance of thunderstorms for later in the evening. The sun was still shining at the house when he pulled out of the driveway. Before he got to the store, he called and said “There’s some really creepy looking clouds out here… are they saying anything on the news?” So, I turn on the TV and watch two tornadoes in El Reno (west of us) drop down out of the sky. It was insane. But, since they were quite a ways west of us, Chris decided to finish up with the shopping and head home after that.
About 10 minutes later, the clouds over our house started looking very ominous and the sky had a green tint to it (bad sign.) I was thinking, “I sure am glad those tornadoes aren’t closer to us…” when all of the sudden, the eerie sound of the tornado sirens started echoing through my neighborhood. Ummmm…are you joking me?! My friend Shannon called me to make sure I wasn’t freaking out and to tell me I should just go down to the basement and not be too scared and that I should call Chris and tell him to head home.
So, I took the pack-n-play down to the basement (my new favorite room in the house), and I went and grabbed the weather radio, and my sleeping son, and I took shelter. I was down there thinking about how I should have grabbed batteries and a flashlight and my new favorite pillow on my bed that I got from Target (I could just see it getting swept up in a tornado and landing in someone’s front lawn miles away and them running out of their house and snatching it up and putting it on THEIR bed with a huge smile on their face…) when the sirens finally stopped. I waited for Chris to get home and then Shannon called again and said it was safe to come out but to keep our eye on the news. We got candles and flashlights ready in case the power went out, and we hunkered down in front of the TV.
The weather here is so crazy. It was 90 degrees yesterday, and today it is 40 degrees. Tornadoes are a run-of-the-mill nuissance, and hail the size of baseballs is commonplace. It’s like we’ve stumbled into a fairy tale land where the newsman is calling for spagetti and meatballs to fall from the sky, and the people who’ve lived here their whole lives simply sigh and bring in the potted plants.