Tag: tornadoes

Tornado Pizza Party

(Writing from April 14, 2011.)

I just started reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I never saw the movie because I like to read the book before I see the movie version of a story. And also, I have a child. The last movie I saw in the theater was True Grit (awesome), and only because one of my husband’s buddies from when we used to live in Los Angeles was in it. Before that, I think it was that Vince Vaughn/Jennifer Aniston vehicle, The Break Up.

So far, I’m jealous of the mystery gift of “rare flowers, pressed, mounted on watercolour paper in a simple frame” the guy receives every year. I want rare flowers, pressed, mounted on watercolour paper in simple frames. I would dedicate a wall in my house to that pretty shit. If somebody wants to start sending me those every year, you have my permission.

As I type this, I’m watching tornado warnings popping up on my television screen. It’s in a nearby city, heading our way. They’re telling people to get into hallways and closets and stay there for at least thirty minutes. It usually hits us right around our son’s bedtime. It’s one of those Murphy’s Law sorts of things. We end up sitting crammed together in our tiny hallway closet, sweating and bored, when he’s supposed to be in bed.

The last time it happened, the poor kid sat in there so long he was actually asking me if he could please go to bed now. My husband is in the backyard, making sure things are tucked against the house and in places where they hopefully won’t blow away.

My husband just popped his head in the back door to let me know that he’s putting our lawn furniture in the garage, so don’t freak out when I hear it open. This one looks like it’s gonna be a doozy. Doozie? Doozy. Is that even a word?


God, I hate tornado season in Oklahoma.

It’s almost here. The back door is flapping, the lights are flickering. The wind is blowing really hard and even though it should still be sunny, it’s dark and greenish outside. The clouds look deadly.

My husband suggested that we all hang out in the master bathroom. There is an outside wall, but three of the walls are inside-facing. We’d be a little more comfortable in the bathtub. Hopefully it will be as safe as the dinky hall closet.

They don’t do basements here. Isn’t that weird? It’s a soil thing. It doesn’t work here. So we live in effing tornado alley and we don’t have basements. Stupid Oklahoma. I always had a basement when I lived in Kansas. I miss having a basement.

They’re saying we’re going to have two inch hail, 60 MPH winds and probably a tornado warning in Tulsa county in thirty minutes. Darn. Those tornado sirens creep me out. And I need to go make dinner, so this will have to conclude today’s blog.

My husband just turned on the oven. We decided to have a pizza party in the master bathtub to make it more fun and less scary for our son. Because you know what they always say: When life gives you tornadoes, make pizza.

He just walked in the room and ominously announced, “Here it comes!” It made me want to smack him a little. It’s just the raw terror talking. I don’t really want to hit him. Very much.

I hope you’re having a more peaceful day than we’re about to experience, friends.

Nature Seen

(Writing from June 2, 2011.)

Recently, during the week of tornadoes that would culminate in the heartbreaking destruction of Joplin, Missouri (and many other cities), we spent an evening listening to meteorologists on the television while waiting for the tornado watch to turn into a warning.

We (by “we,” I mean my very strong husband) had moved all of the outdoor furniture into the garage. We’d also taken down the two hummingbird feeders we have hanging outside the living room windows that allow us to watch a variety of tiny cute little winged friends drink every day.

While we waited for the impending doom the news people where certain was headed our way, we watched as the hummingbirds continued to fly up to the windows seeking nectar.

Before the sirens went off and we headed for the hall closet, I was trying to take a picture of the dark sky behind my house. In the middle of my camera phone shot, a hummingbird flew in front of the window to stare at me accusingly, as if to say, “Hey? What did you guys do with all the the food?”

The result is a somewhat ghostly, hovering little hummingbird blur in the lower left corner of the shot. I’ve pointed him out in pink text for you, because I’m silly.


The tornadic cloud hook took a last minute right turn and missed us, hitting Haskell, Oklahoma instead, which is about 27 miles away. I was obviously relieved, but sad that they got hit.

Tornado season can be scary. I regret our move from Los Angeles to Oklahoma every spring. And then I remember that we’d be probably living in a small, craptastic apartment in Burbank if we had stayed there, and I stop regretting it, but still. Tornadoes suck.