Prepare-anoia

Q: Do you know the difference between preparedness and paranoia?
A: "Prepared" is what you are. "Paranoid" is what other people are.

Last night, for the fourth or fifth time in the past month, a powerful storm front blew in from West Texas bringing tornadoes, damaging winds, flooding and hail with it. Like most of the ones we've seen this year, though, it seems we were barely brushed by the hem of its garment. What makes where I live such a meteorological sweet spot lately, I don't know. Fierce, angry storms come charging at us from all the way across the state, and no sooner do they cross I-35 than they turn into mildly senile grandparents: appearing to have forgotten why they came into North Dallas in the first place, they grumble to themselves for a bit and then leave to avoid embarrassment.

Though I'm glad the latest adventures have all had happy endings, I'm not so naive as to think we'll never get hit with the kind of weather that makes the news. (After all, "those people" whose homes and property get destroyed by storms have to live somewhere -- and "somewhere" usually isn't that far from here.) To that end, I'm pretty vigilant when it comes to inclement weather, especially at night when everyone else may be sleeping.

Maybe it's because big changes in atmospheric pressure wake me up long before a storm arrives, so I have nothing better to do than track its progress. Maybe it's a mom thing. Maybe it's because I'm still kicking myself for the day I ignored my instincts and learned the hard way that I should have honored them. In any case, when there's a storm coming, you can usually find me with sneakers on my feet, a lighter in my pocket, a cell phone nearby and an eye on a weather site (since we don't have TV).

No one has out-and-out called me paranoid for doing these things, but I've seen enough body language to know that sometimes I'm being humored rather than supported. It's the same look I got when someone offered to drive my two-year-old son somewhere and I declined because she didn't have a car seat. "It's not that far," she demurred. "But... you know," she continued, barely suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, "it's whatever you're more comfortable with."

I smiled. "Yup." 

When it comes to dangerous weather, I'm more comfortable with having my boys grumbling at me for getting them up when calamity misses the Abbey than with leaving them sleeping peacefully in their beds when it doesn't.

In any event, the weather's fine today, so now I can go back to stockpiling firearms.
(Hey, when the day comes, those damn zombies aren't going to shoot themselves.)
 

Comments

[Melissa]

When there are earth quakes out yonder in the Pacific, you can find me at my computer waiting to be alerted of a tsunami heading our way. Because I know if I try to sleep, instead I'll have visions of us all on our roof while the ocean waters continue rising. I think paran...I mean, preparation is a very important thing!

[cheryl]

We were pelted by the legendary "golf ball sized hail" a couple of months ago. It does have the somewhat apocalyptic sound of a house being pelted by rocks. Though the damage wasn't apparent to us immediately, everyone in our neighborhood has had to have their roofs removed and reinstalled. It's been a noisy Spring ever since. One man's catastrophe is another man's livelihood. This year we've also had the tornado sirens go off for real twice. So we've done some closet time with the couch cushions listening to weather reports with strange phrases like "hail core" and "rotational loft". It does put a bit of a damper on what would otherwise be La Primavera (can you here the Vivaldi?). Of course by the time these foul tempered beasts have finished making their way through the area, it's AC season. I guess that's why Texans love Autumn.
As for preparation, if I would be relieved to be at your house if the weather took an ugly turn. Not to mention there'd be plenty of kimchi and homebrew. Right?

[mrs. n]

Eh, at the moment you'd have more kombucha and sauerkraut than kimchi and homebrew, though I'm about to start another batch of t'ej (Ethiopian honey wine)... any of which I'd be glad to share, storm or no.

And I love Vivaldi's "Four Seasons," but the weather lately has me thinking more of Wagner's "Flight of the Valkyries"...

[kristen]

well my friend Paco got me the Zombie Survival Guide after I had a bad zombie dream after we watched a zombie movie at our house for movie night back when we lived in Dallas (correction - *I* did not watch the zombie movie - *I* bathed Mary Judah, put her to bed, and then did the laundry).

Anyway - two good things to note:

1. zombies don't run. you can usually outrun them.

2. zombies can't climb stairs. this is why I alway try not to live on the ground level.

I'm feeling pretty confident we'll be okay when it comes to that day.

[J. Lo]

Kristen,

I have a better piece of advice. If there's ever a zombie attack, just stay away from any attractive people in their early twenties. (You'll know them because they have great hari and skin, and wear designer clothing.)


It is a staticstical fact that hanging around these kinds of people, who are sure to accidentally defeat the zombies anyway, is sure to get you killed. I would redcommend that, in the event of a zombie invasion, you quickly get to your nearest Land's End outlet. I am throughly convinced, based on my previous logic, that no zombie would be caught undead in such a place.