It’s a bit of a relief to write this morning’s post after a harrowing brush with danger over the weekend. Okay, not really, but it makes for a more interesting introduction than what I spent twenty minutes writing that ended up disappearing into the ether.
Apparently the computer gods are my editors this morning.
Late Friday afternoon a few friends threw together lunch plans for Saturday at Chuy’s which is my current go-to restaurant in town for the queso, people, THE QUESO, and none of us really checked the weather except for Heather who is a self-acknowledged weather nerd and she said, “Should we maybe postpone until Sunday when the weather’s nicer because you know we’re under an elevated risk for severe weather, right?” and I scoffed, SCOFFED at her, mind you , because I’m from Oklahoma where we don’t let the slight risk of bad weather keep us from doing anything because you’d never get anything done. I assured her we’d be fine because nothing bad can happen when you’re eating cheese dip and so off we went to the restaurant.
It was a little windy and spitting rain when we arrived (PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE INCOMING STORM, SUSAN) but visions of flautas danced in my head and I ignored it all until half-way through our meal when all of a sudden the lights went out in the restaurant and everyone’s cellphone started blaring and we looked at the screen and it said “Tornado Warning, Take Shelter Immediately.”
No one seemed to be diving for cover but we were in an interior room and couldn’t see out a window to know exactly what was going on but with a little weather app and Twitter sleuthing we were able to determine that the worst of the storm was north of us. It made us feel a little better but didn’t completely keep the nerves at bay because we’d left our respective families at home, smack dab in the middle of the storm while we were partying like it was 1999.
We checked in with them and Heather’s family was in the closet like they were supposed to be and mine? Out and about trying to decide whether they wanted their fries from Burger King or McDonald’s. I texted Craig to make sure he and the boys were safe but the lack of flying bovines meant he had no cause for alarm.
Someone’s watched Twister one too many times and has a very high bar for what constitutes a bad storm.
And so I had a good laugh, paid the check and headed home only to discover downed limbs all over the place and find out that an 86 mph squall line had come through town, uprooting trees and knocking down an apartment building under construction less than a mile from where Craig and the kids were at that very moment.
So that was the big excitement around here which wasn’t all that exciting for me, just my people. I hope your weekend was much less dramatic and just as cheese-filled.
Have a nice day.