With Tornado Sirens Unheeded...A Hoosier Wonders...

It's been storming here all day. Not the big rolling Midwestern storms of my childhood but the red blobs of doom that come across from Alabama, drop down too much rain at once and do their thunder dance and move on.
I had an appointment today during the midst of the whole thing, so I consulted radar and managed with some luck to travel in between the red blobs occurring.

After my appointment was said and done I traveled back to the northeast corner of the metro that I call home, crawling in the massive lemming march that is the Atlanta commute and occasionally hit my wipers. The storm. it seemed, had passed. The highway was steaming from the temperature change and the commuters were inconvenienced with puddles of water. I didn't think much about it as I was pretty sure the worst had come and gone.

Alabama never sends over nice weather. Always with the storms.

I stopped for gasoline and as I watched the numbers rise on the pump I heard a familiar drone in the distance. It wasn't close, but it was unmistakable.

Tornado siren.

I looked around. The clouds were grey, moving fast but nothing ominous. No squall line, certainly no rotation. The wind was gentle, the drizzle was light. There was nothing the made me feel concern except this sound coming from the west - the direction of Alabama that great bringer of storms.

If you grew up in the midwest you know this sound. It means run for cover. When we were kids it meant some yokel had SEEN A TWISTER and had called the sheriff, whom they called directly we didn't have this fancy 911 business. We didn't have radar that immediately sounded the sirens when rotation was detected. We didn't have WARNINGS. We had OH MY GOD THERE IS A TORNADO RUN RUN RUN sirens. If the sirens went off, it was on and you better get your ass to a basement.

Fast.

Southwest corner, by the way. That's the corner of the room you go to. Also put your shoes on, because there will be debris on the ground afterward and it will cut the SHIT out of your feet and you will thank me for it. JUST PUT THEM ON.

Now, I stood there, pumping gas, listening to the klaxon of doom from my childhood, the sound that I had been hardwired to hear and immediately seek cover - and I just kept pumping gas. I checked my phone, no alerts. No warnings. I get tornado warnings immediately they are pushed to my phone.

I asked a man pumping gas "Is that a tornado siren?" He said "Oh is that what that is? I wondered."

I sighed and shook my head. I am sure that in the event of an earthquake I'd be doing it all wrong and people from earthquake-land would sigh and shake their head at me. We grow up in places and we learn the dangers of THOSE places and we learn them well. It's a bit of climate related social darwinism but it works, we learn the dangers and adapt.

I just know that it's 2016 and I just spoke to an adult man who didn't recognize a tornado siren and that scares me a little.

I'm also wondering why that siren was going off.

In my brain I've been calling it "sireen" like my grandma this whole time. Don't tell anyone.

With Tornado Sirens Unheeded...A Hoosier Wonders...

It's been storming here all day. Not the big rolling Midwestern storms of my childhood but the red blobs of doom that come across from Alabama, drop down too much rain at once and do their thunder dance and move on.
I had an appointment today during the midst of the whole thing, so I consulted radar and managed with some luck to travel in between the red blobs occurring.

After my appointment was said and done I traveled back to the northeast corner of the metro that I call home, crawling in the massive lemming march that is the Atlanta commute and occasionally hit my wipers. The storm. it seemed, had passed. The highway was steaming from the temperature change and the commuters were inconvenienced with puddles of water. I didn't think much about it as I was pretty sure the worst had come and gone.

Alabama never sends over nice weather. Always with the storms.

I stopped for gasoline and as I watched the numbers rise on the pump I heard a familiar drone in the distance. It wasn't close, but it was unmistakable.

Tornado siren.

I looked around. The clouds were grey, moving fast but nothing ominous. No squall line, certainly no rotation. The wind was gentle, the drizzle was light. There was nothing the made me feel concern except this sound coming from the west - the direction of Alabama that great bringer of storms.

If you grew up in the midwest you know this sound. It means run for cover. When we were kids it meant some yokel had SEEN A TWISTER and had called the sheriff, whom they called directly we didn't have this fancy 911 business. We didn't have radar that immediately sounded the sirens when rotation was detected. We didn't have WARNINGS. We had OH MY GOD THERE IS A TORNADO RUN RUN RUN sirens. If the sirens went off, it was on and you better get your ass to a basement.

Fast.

Southwest corner, by the way. That's the corner of the room you go to. Also put your shoes on, because there will be debris on the ground afterward and it will cut the SHIT out of your feet and you will thank me for it. JUST PUT THEM ON.

Now, I stood there, pumping gas, listening to the klaxon of doom from my childhood, the sound that I had been hardwired to hear and immediately seek cover - and I just kept pumping gas. I checked my phone, no alerts. No warnings. I get tornado warnings immediately they are pushed to my phone.

I asked a man pumping gas "Is that a tornado siren?" He said "Oh is that what that is? I wondered."

I sighed and shook my head. I am sure that in the event of an earthquake I'd be doing it all wrong and people from earthquake-land would sigh and shake their head at me. We grow up in places and we learn the dangers of THOSE places and we learn them well. It's a bit of climate related social darwinism but it works, we learn the dangers and adapt.

I just know that it's 2016 and I just spoke to an adult man who didn't recognize a tornado siren and that scares me a little.

I'm also wondering why that siren was going off.

In my brain I've been calling it "sireen" like my grandma this whole time. Don't tell anyone.

With Tornado Sirens Unheeded...A Hoosier Wonders...

It's been storming here all day. Not the big rolling Midwestern storms of my childhood but the red blobs of doom that come across from Alabama, drop down too much rain at once and do their thunder dance and move on.
I had an appointment today during the midst of the whole thing, so I consulted radar and managed with some luck to travel in between the red blobs occurring.

After my appointment was said and done I traveled back to the northeast corner of the metro that I call home, crawling in the massive lemming march that is the Atlanta commute and occasionally hit my wipers. The storm. it seemed, had passed. The highway was steaming from the temperature change and the commuters were inconvenienced with puddles of water. I didn't think much about it as I was pretty sure the worst had come and gone.

Alabama never sends over nice weather. Always with the storms.

I stopped for gasoline and as I watched the numbers rise on the pump I heard a familiar drone in the distance. It wasn't close, but it was unmistakable.

Tornado siren.

I looked around. The clouds were grey, moving fast but nothing ominous. No squall line, certainly no rotation. The wind was gentle, the drizzle was light. There was nothing the made me feel concern except this sound coming from the west - the direction of Alabama that great bringer of storms.

If you grew up in the midwest you know this sound. It means run for cover. When we were kids it meant some yokel had SEEN A TWISTER and had called the sheriff, whom they called directly we didn't have this fancy 911 business. We didn't have radar that immediately sounded the sirens when rotation was detected. We didn't have WARNINGS. We had OH MY GOD THERE IS A TORNADO RUN RUN RUN sirens. If the sirens went off, it was on and you better get your ass to a basement.

Fast.

Southwest corner, by the way. That's the corner of the room you go to. Also put your shoes on, because there will be debris on the ground afterward and it will cut the SHIT out of your feet and you will thank me for it. JUST PUT THEM ON.

Now, I stood there, pumping gas, listening to the klaxon of doom from my childhood, the sound that I had been hardwired to hear and immediately seek cover - and I just kept pumping gas. I checked my phone, no alerts. No warnings. I get tornado warnings immediately they are pushed to my phone.

I asked a man pumping gas "Is that a tornado siren?" He said "Oh is that what that is? I wondered."

I sighed and shook my head. I am sure that in the event of an earthquake I'd be doing it all wrong and people from earthquake-land would sigh and shake their head at me. We grow up in places and we learn the dangers of THOSE places and we learn them well. It's a bit of climate related social darwinism but it works, we learn the dangers and adapt.

I just know that it's 2016 and I just spoke to an adult man who didn't recognize a tornado siren and that scares me a little.

I'm also wondering why that siren was going off.

In my brain I've been calling it "sireen" like my grandma this whole time. Don't tell anyone.

If Something Happens...

When you have your first kid you see this little saying around quite a bit, it goes something like "Having a child is letting your heart walk around outside of your body." It's something like that. I feel like that sentiment is a pale comparison to what it's really like.

Yesterday we had storms, which isn't unusual. The Gulf of Mexico sends warm moist air up into Texas and that air goes rolling east across flat Mississippi and Alabama and by the time I gets here we have a real gullywasher going (I miss Stan Wood the Weatherman on Channel 8, he was AWESOME). We do get some tornadoes, not many because of the hills and trees but it can happen.

Yesterday was one of those days. When everyone's phones start going off with tornado warnings and you bring up the radar and yes indeed, that's rotation & all the weathermen are saying stuff like "this is not a drill take cover" you know it's spring in Atlanta. Still, I was at work, the storm was down where I was and I felt pretty safe in a big old brick building. I watched the weather, so we could be aware if we needed to move to a safe room and then to my surprise it moved north.

Toward my house.

We were pretty lucky all in all with this storm. I think there might've been a tornado or straightline winds west of us, for us in general we go hail and what my husband and I like to call "evil" skies. If you've ever been in a tornado, you'd know that sick colored sky in a minute, it's bizarre. The schools were very proactive and held the buses to be safe and really, everything landed exactly as it should have. No funnel dropped on my neighborhood. Or any that I know of actually.

The two moments that caused me pause was when I texted my husband a heads up that the storm was coming for him, and realized he wasn't home, he was on the road with my little girl. Waiting waiting waiting for them to say they were home safe was nerve wracking. He said they got into the house just as the hail started, and it got so cold you could see your breath.

There was so much hail that it kicked up the chlorine from the dispenser in the pool causing foaming and frothing and then it all froze over, which I missed. He said you could SEE it freezing over. That's just tornado weather if nothing is, for sure.

But then, he tells me later, that my son sent a text. To say that there was a tornado and that if something happens he loved us. My heart came out of my chest and exploded. I asked him later if he was scared, and he laughed and said "yeah a little" so I didn't press him. He told me they watched WallE and sat together in a corner of the safe room.

I'm so glad they have a safe room.

I hate spring suddenly, like I have never hated anything. Go away spring storms. You scared my love and I just can't have that.

If Something Happens...

When you have your first kid you see this little saying around quite a bit, it goes something like "Having a child is letting your heart walk around outside of your body." It's something like that. I feel like that sentiment is a pale comparison to what it's really like.

Yesterday we had storms, which isn't unusual. The Gulf of Mexico sends warm moist air up into Texas and that air goes rolling east across flat Mississippi and Alabama and by the time I gets here we have a real gullywasher going (I miss Stan Wood the Weatherman on Channel 8, he was AWESOME). We do get some tornadoes, not many because of the hills and trees but it can happen.

Yesterday was one of those days. When everyone's phones start going off with tornado warnings and you bring up the radar and yes indeed, that's rotation & all the weathermen are saying stuff like "this is not a drill take cover" you know it's spring in Atlanta. Still, I was at work, the storm was down where I was and I felt pretty safe in a big old brick building. I watched the weather, so we could be aware if we needed to move to a safe room and then to my surprise it moved north.

Toward my house.

We were pretty lucky all in all with this storm. I think there might've been a tornado or straightline winds west of us, for us in general we go hail and what my husband and I like to call "evil" skies. If you've ever been in a tornado, you'd know that sick colored sky in a minute, it's bizarre. The schools were very proactive and held the buses to be safe and really, everything landed exactly as it should have. No funnel dropped on my neighborhood. Or any that I know of actually.

The two moments that caused me pause was when I texted my husband a heads up that the storm was coming for him, and realized he wasn't home, he was on the road with my little girl. Waiting waiting waiting for them to say they were home safe was nerve wracking. He said they got into the house just as the hail started, and it got so cold you could see your breath.

There was so much hail that it kicked up the chlorine from the dispenser in the pool causing foaming and frothing and then it all froze over, which I missed. He said you could SEE it freezing over. That's just tornado weather if nothing is, for sure.

But then, he tells me later, that my son sent a text. To say that there was a tornado and that if something happens he loved us. My heart came out of my chest and exploded. I asked him later if he was scared, and he laughed and said "yeah a little" so I didn't press him. He told me they watched WallE and sat together in a corner of the safe room.

I'm so glad they have a safe room.

I hate spring suddenly, like I have never hated anything. Go away spring storms. You scared my love and I just can't have that.

What Would We Do....

A few nights ago, the line of storms that wrought hell across the country moved through Atlanta. We were assured by the salivating weathermen that our chances of tornadoes were "slim" and just to expect bad thunderstorms.
We did have the thunderboomers as expected, and driving rains. I drove home in between a patch of them and made it safely indoors before the next round of amazing gulleywashers rolled through.
(I'm using all my favorite storm terms from the weatherman of my childhood - Stan Wood.)
Anyway...the storms were bad but really at my house anyway, not so bad. Just thunderstorms. Anyone who grew up in a big flat place like me and the husband would barely pass a second glance at the storm. There are storms and there are STORMS, this was the former.
But right as we were getting ready to put food on the table - we lost power.

For the first time in my children's memory - we had no electricity at night. It's happened before, but they didn't remember it.

I was glad of the digital world as I downloaded the flashlight app for my iPhone a while back so I whipped it out and made my way upstairs to find real flaghlights and camping lanterns. We set up dinner with our candles (and my husband mocked that three wick candle I got him for Father's day years ago!) and ate our dinner in the calm of candlelight, with the curtains blowing in cool air from the rain that was still pouring outside.

Georgia Power said not to expect electricity back before 11pm, so after supper we were stumped for what to do.

We're fairly digital people. Right now I'm logged into a virtual world holding six cats so that they'll be happy and loved. Digitally loved. I'm also uploading about 300 pictures to snapfish. I'm talking on Plurk to my plurkies and I Facebooked and tweeted today. I'm also blogging (obviously).

So what to do when your digital options are rendered dark? We could've played with the cell phone except I didn't want to run down the battery in case of emergency.

We returned to one of the most excellent choices on the Earth, since oh, the written word was invented.

My husband read to us.

First we read King HawksBeak and then he broke out one of my favorite books from childhood, THE BORROWERS. As he read to us, I fell asleep on the sofa listening to the tale of Pod, Homily and Arrietty combined with the rain pouring down outside.

About 10:30pm the lights came back on and we bustled the kids off to bed. The oldest boy, who had been the BIGGEST complainer about how TERRIBLE our night was going to be, smiled at me as I tucked him in and said "That was kind of nice, reading stories. We should do that again some time."

He's right. We should.

What Would We Do....

A few nights ago, the line of storms that wrought hell across the country moved through Atlanta. We were assured by the salivating weathermen that our chances of tornadoes were "slim" and just to expect bad thunderstorms.
We did have the thunderboomers as expected, and driving rains. I drove home in between a patch of them and made it safely indoors before the next round of amazing gulleywashers rolled through.
(I'm using all my favorite storm terms from the weatherman of my childhood - Stan Wood.)
Anyway...the storms were bad but really at my house anyway, not so bad. Just thunderstorms. Anyone who grew up in a big flat place like me and the husband would barely pass a second glance at the storm. There are storms and there are STORMS, this was the former.
But right as we were getting ready to put food on the table - we lost power.

For the first time in my children's memory - we had no electricity at night. It's happened before, but they didn't remember it.

I was glad of the digital world as I downloaded the flashlight app for my iPhone a while back so I whipped it out and made my way upstairs to find real flaghlights and camping lanterns. We set up dinner with our candles (and my husband mocked that three wick candle I got him for Father's day years ago!) and ate our dinner in the calm of candlelight, with the curtains blowing in cool air from the rain that was still pouring outside.

Georgia Power said not to expect electricity back before 11pm, so after supper we were stumped for what to do.

We're fairly digital people. Right now I'm logged into a virtual world holding six cats so that they'll be happy and loved. Digitally loved. I'm also uploading about 300 pictures to snapfish. I'm talking on Plurk to my plurkies and I Facebooked and tweeted today. I'm also blogging (obviously).

So what to do when your digital options are rendered dark? We could've played with the cell phone except I didn't want to run down the battery in case of emergency.

We returned to one of the most excellent choices on the Earth, since oh, the written word was invented.

My husband read to us.

First we read King HawksBeak and then he broke out one of my favorite books from childhood, THE BORROWERS. As he read to us, I fell asleep on the sofa listening to the tale of Pod, Homily and Arrietty combined with the rain pouring down outside.

About 10:30pm the lights came back on and we bustled the kids off to bed. The oldest boy, who had been the BIGGEST complainer about how TERRIBLE our night was going to be, smiled at me as I tucked him in and said "That was kind of nice, reading stories. We should do that again some time."

He's right. We should.