Susan Spess Shay

Still playing make believe.


Leave a comment

Under the Stairs Hidy Hole

It’s Tornado Season in Okieland.

And you thought there were only four seasons–Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring–in the year, didn’t you? Actually, Tornado Season is sort of synonymous with Spring. Except when it’s not. 🙂

Some years we have only a close call or two.

Some years, it feels as if we’re dancing with tornadoes. 😦

The spring after Middle Son was born, we had twisters about every-other-night, all spring long. (At least it seemed like e-o-n!) We lived in a two story house with all the bedrooms upstairs and big windows on both sides of the stairway. Not the best choice on our part, but who thinks about nighttime tornadoes when choosing a house plan?

Our house was just about a mile outside of C-Town. Most of the time I could hear the tornado siren if I was awake (do towns in states outside the middle of the nation have those?) but just in case I missed it, I made a deal with one of my sisters to call me when the sirens blew.

We didn’t have a ‘fraidy hole. But because of the way our staircase was built–very, very sturdy–under it was even better than the inside room the big boys recommend you to hide in. G-Man worked twenty-four hour call at that time. Often, he was gone on a job when storms hit.

#1 son was five then, so he had a pretty good time under the stairs. (Actually, we waited in the small hallway next to the door that went UTS.) If the baby was sleeping, he had all of our attention and we would color or play games with him.

We had a small wooden cradle that I kept downstairs for Matt to snooze in next to the stairs.

We never had an actual hit from a tornado while we lived in that house. In my life, I remember very few times when a tornado got very close to us. There’s an old wives’ tale that because of the way our town is situated in the bend of the river and beneath South Hill, we’ll never be hit. While I don’t trust old wives’ tales, so far it’s proven true.

Of course, I don’t live in the city limits of C-Town now, so I keep a weather eye. (The house I live in was destroyed in 1991 by a twister.)

Funny how those frightening experiences turn into fond memories, isn’t it?

 

Advertisements


6 Comments

New Years Eve

Fireworks at New Years 2002

Image via Wikipedia

My New Years Eve started early.

 

This is Molly. She was a rescue dog, but now she’s the queen of the castle.

She protects her family from marauding opossums who try to steal from our pond.

She’s a little shy, but she tries to help us watch our weight. *If you don’t want that meat, I’ll take care of it!*

And she’s really bad about looking away just when I snap her picture.

She keeps the snow in line. She even lets us know when it’s storming. 

When Molly first came to rule the house, she was thrilled because she thought we’d installed an indoor bathroom for her. G-Man and I, however, had in mind using it for a living room. Since we couldn’t come to a meeting of the minds, G-Man and I installed a baby gate to keep “accidents” from happening.

Clever Molly has found that she can use said gate as an early alarm system. Anytime it storms, she just grabs the gate with her teeth and shakes it. Hard. And. Wakes. Me. Up.

This morning, a t-storm rolled through at 3:30. At 3:31 she was rattling the gate and I was downstairs, trying to keep her quiet.

The last day of 2010 started early is going to be v-e-r-y long.

It’s 5:15 now and she’s peacefully sleeping on the love seat. I have to start fixing G-Man’s breakfast in thirty minutes. *sigh* I think I’ll take a quick nap.