I Have on the Proper Attire for a Tornado

Here on the west coast we are between storms. During this brief intermission I paused to reflect on what I learned during the last storm. It is this: I am a Southern California born-and-bred Wussy. With a capital W.

On Monday, while it was pouring rain (in what one friend called “Venti-sized drops”) and the wind was blowing hard (What? The palm trees were all bend-y!), I began emailing local friends who are from places like Minnesota and Colorado. I wanted to find out their reactions in order to determine if my terror was justified. (This is sort of like when I try to read the flight attendants’ faces during turbulence on a one-hour Southwest Airlines flight.) Also, I sent my husband a chain of emails such as:

“Hurry home!”

“But don’t drive fast in the rain!”

“Did you remember to order the gopher wood for the ark I want you to build?”

“Should I call the handyman about the ark?”

But yesterday, Mother Nature decided to be an even saucier wench than she was the day before by causing our local weather service to issue . . . TORNADO WARNINGS! Tornadoes! Here? Okay, earthquakes? They happen. Wildfires? Yes. Gas prices that make filling my tank cost more than my first car? That, too. But tornadoes in San Diego? That’s just not right.

Along with the tornado warnings FOR MY PARTICULAR PART OF SAN DIEGO, the local news channel provided instructions. “In the event of a tornado, get into a basement.” Seriously? I don’t know anyone in Southern California with a basement, and, if I did, I would have moved in with that family yesterday. That instruction was followed with, “If no basement is available, get into a downstairs closet.” Okay, you know what? That’s not going to work either. We only have one downstairs closet and it is tiny and contains something called a vacuum cleaner (although I'm not sure what that thing does). I want to be in my upstairs closet, which would be way more comfortable and contains nice shoes. So I emailed my husband and told him when he got home from work to start looking for me in the rubble near wherever the master bedroom landed, and that he would be able to identify my body by the Adam Lambert T-shirt.

When I went to pick up Laura from school, I realized that I was glad that I’d seen the movie Twister. If I hadn’t, I would not have known that a car can outrun a tornado. I drove home comforted by this thought, and that a house might drop on the woman who had been ahead of me in the carpool line because I don't really like her very much. (Hey, I should buy her some striped socks, so she has the proper tornado attire, too.)

Once I had Laura home from school, I thought about hiding the tornado warning from her—after all she’s only nine. But then I decided it was time for her to grow up and face the realities of life. (By that I mean that she should face the reality of tornadoes, not yet the fact that her mother is neurotic.) Mostly I decided to tell her about the tornado warning because two sets of eyes would be better than one looking out of the windows for funnel clouds.

Before the tornado warning had expired, I had a new dilemma. Adam Lambert was on Oprah yesterday. That meant that I had to stop staring out the windows and start staring at him. Adam Lambert’s brilliant interview and fantastic performance made that part easy. (Also, thank you Universe for DVRs because Laura and I watched it three times already!) (Yes, we really did.) (And some singing and dancing in front of the coffee table may or may not have been involved.) During a commercial break, I emailed my husband to give him new instructions about where to find my body in the rubble should a tornado strike while I was watching Oprah; i.e., he would be able to find me underneath where the roof caved into the family room, holding the television.

Another round of storms is due to hit our area soon, and the local news reports that this one will be worse than the last. But don’t worry about me! I’m looking on the bright side! Today might be the last day I ever have to do laundry. And now, if you'll excuse me, the dryer is making that horrible dinging sound. I have just enough time to fold a load of clothes before I leave for my therapy appointment.

My Pool Runneth Over . . .

And so does my heart . . .

Marriage on Trial

This is the best article I've read on legalized same-sex marriage, and I seek out and read everything I can on the issue. If I could have said it any better, I would have tried (see my sidebar). Ted Olson, my hat goes off to you.

Here is the link:

The Conservative Case for Gay Marriage: Why same-sex marriage is an American value

As long as some of us are denied marriage equality, none of us have it.

What do you think?

Should Auld Bloggers Be Forgot

Wishing you a year filled with blue skies and wonderment.

Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.
~Melodie Beatty

We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives not looking for flaws, but for potential.
~Ellen Goodman

Adam Lambert’s Appearance at Disneyland (On My Shirt) Was Not Canceled

'Twas days before Christmas, to see Mickey Mouse

Went this blogger, two kids, and long-suffering spouse;

Decorations were hung down Main Street with care,

The folks at Disney had invited us there.

The kids snuggled the night before in their beds,

While visions of Tinkerbell danced in their heads.

And me in my Lambert shirt with eyeliner eyes,

'Twas worn as an homage; is that any surprise?





In the media there had arisen such clatter,

I’d searched the world web to see what was the matter.

Dancing like Madonna and kissing a boy,

It seemed ABC had become quite annoyed.

A bold performance by a talented guy

Had network executives crying, “Oh my!”

I scratched my head, wondered what was the trouble,

Then I concluded the standard was double.

There’s not so much fuss when the kissers are chicks,

That’s merely one way that some guys get their kicks.

And crotch grabbing, nothing is wrong with that action

So long as the grabber is named Janet Jackson?

Now, Eminem! Slim Shady! A rap sheet of shame!

And the guy kissing another takes all the blame?

He was called on the carpet! On talk shows appeared!

He gave poised interviews, was that not what they feared?

But there were kids watching some questioners said.

(This mom wants to know why those kids weren’t in bed?)

On music award shows there’s often a scandal;

Parents guiding children is too much to handle?

They watched Janet, Slim Shady, and dancers with guns,

But the guy at the end wasn’t good for the young?

For our daughter’s teachings, we’ll guide the way,

And turn up the radio when Adam is played.

“For Your Entertainment” is my kid’s favorite song,

Traveling to Disneyland, she sang along.

She knows all the lyrics, her voice can be heard,

“If I Had You” and “Fever”: she sings every word.





We arrived at the park; all songs had been sung;

The two little girls were ready for fun!

Space Mountain was the very first ride they did want;

Jack Skellington appeared where ghosts usually haunt.

“Thunder Mountain is next!” we heard the kids call;

Christmas carols at Small World were sung after all.

Then they ate cotton candy and watched a parade,

At 52 degrees no one needed shade.

Splash Mountain in winter, it was oh so freezing,

But Gibson Girl’s ice cream was still oh so pleasing.

We walked and we stood ’til our feet were quite sore,

We sat and we rested, then walked and stood more.

We rode lots of rides, even saw some old friends,

With Tiana and Naveen, we saw a new trend.





Now love knows no color in Walt Disney’s world,

We’re happy to see the melting pot stirred.

Movies, music and books—while words may be small,

We’re gaga when reminded that love conquers all.

In 2010 we can all keep in mind,

It is time to accept that love’s gender blind.









(The Princess and the Frog images courtesy of Google Images/Disney. My apologies to Clement Clarke Moore for taking such liberties with his poem, T'was the Night Before Christmas. Thank you to the Merriest Folks on Earth at Disney Resort Public Relations for the tickets!)