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taste_is_sweetCollege Station. Deep in the heart of Texas, home of the Aggies, the Candy 95 radio station, and the occasional tornadoes. Like the one that almost hit us tonight.
Yeah. Nothing like that awesome gut-churning moment when your son's My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic show is interrupted by a grey screen with the National Weather Service warning for a tornado scrolling across it replete with blaring alarm.
Not a tornado watch, unfortunately, which just means you need to check the local KAGS ('K-Ags'! Like the Aggies! Get it?) every so often and maybe worry just a tad. No, this was a Tornado Warning, which means, 'better move your ass to an indoor room before the spinning whirlwind of death descends like the fist of an angry god'.
We've had tornado watches before, and warnings, and once a tornado even came so close that it paused just south of our little manicured subdivision before dissipating. But all that was before we had a kid. Nothing ramps up the adrenaline rush of the bleating National Weather Service TV alarm like having your son sitting in your lap and so scared he keeps asking if it's time to go hide in the bathroom. The poor little guy was freaked out enough that despite our assurances that the heroic weather dude would let us know when it was time to go bathtub-diving, he ended up so exhausted with worry by the end of it that for the first time in literally a year he actually announced he was going to bed, rather than commence his usual thirty-minute negotiation.
Luckily the tornado went all, 'Surprise! I'm heading downtown!' while I was moving essentials to the bathroom and decided to menace my excellent friend![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anna_bird instead. In the meantime I shared OMFG TORNADO! texts with my neighbors and found it mildly amusing that the very excited weather dude started telling us we had to worry about hail and flash floods instead of tornadoes. Hail the size of eggs? Floods deep enough to swim in? No problem, weather dude. We got a garage, yo.
(And yes, on the news they were warning the local idiots to please NOT GO SWIMMING IN THE FLOOD WATERS. BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, IT'S A FLOOD AND YOU MIGHT DROWN.)
An hour later it was as if nothing had ever happened, except for the new swimming hole and people with egg-sized dents on the roofs and hoods of their cars. A tornado even hit next door in Burleson county (hey, tornado! What did that Fedex distribution center ever do to you?), but here, nothing. My beloved child is sleeping soundly and safely in his bed and my husband and I are watching late-night television like any regular Friday night. Phew.
But I'm checking the KAGS station before I go to bed, believe me. Just in case.
Yeah. Nothing like that awesome gut-churning moment when your son's My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic show is interrupted by a grey screen with the National Weather Service warning for a tornado scrolling across it replete with blaring alarm.
Not a tornado watch, unfortunately, which just means you need to check the local KAGS ('K-Ags'! Like the Aggies! Get it?) every so often and maybe worry just a tad. No, this was a Tornado Warning, which means, 'better move your ass to an indoor room before the spinning whirlwind of death descends like the fist of an angry god'.
We've had tornado watches before, and warnings, and once a tornado even came so close that it paused just south of our little manicured subdivision before dissipating. But all that was before we had a kid. Nothing ramps up the adrenaline rush of the bleating National Weather Service TV alarm like having your son sitting in your lap and so scared he keeps asking if it's time to go hide in the bathroom. The poor little guy was freaked out enough that despite our assurances that the heroic weather dude would let us know when it was time to go bathtub-diving, he ended up so exhausted with worry by the end of it that for the first time in literally a year he actually announced he was going to bed, rather than commence his usual thirty-minute negotiation.
Luckily the tornado went all, 'Surprise! I'm heading downtown!' while I was moving essentials to the bathroom and decided to menace my excellent friend
anna_bird instead. In the meantime I shared OMFG TORNADO! texts with my neighbors and found it mildly amusing that the very excited weather dude started telling us we had to worry about hail and flash floods instead of tornadoes. Hail the size of eggs? Floods deep enough to swim in? No problem, weather dude. We got a garage, yo.(And yes, on the news they were warning the local idiots to please NOT GO SWIMMING IN THE FLOOD WATERS. BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, IT'S A FLOOD AND YOU MIGHT DROWN.)
An hour later it was as if nothing had ever happened, except for the new swimming hole and people with egg-sized dents on the roofs and hoods of their cars. A tornado even hit next door in Burleson county (hey, tornado! What did that Fedex distribution center ever do to you?), but here, nothing. My beloved child is sleeping soundly and safely in his bed and my husband and I are watching late-night television like any regular Friday night. Phew.
But I'm checking the KAGS station before I go to bed, believe me. Just in case.
