Tornado Kit: Are you prepared?

             In Tornado Alley, you need a Tornado Kit.

Tornado watches and warnings are not to be discounted. Perhaps it was my mother who ingrained in me a healthy fear of tornadoes, but whoever is responsible, I’m grateful. We once ran around opening windows on the southwest side of the house. The space under the house was for protection from bad storms even though it had spiders and their webs everywhere. Balancing the danger, I’d crawl inside, my mother kicking my behind all the way.

Plenty of near misses have cemented a healthy fear. Stories of chimney bricks in the bathtub, green and purple skies, temperature differentiation from hot to cold on either side of the building where I sat, a tornado paralleling Walnut Grove Road. I’ve had my share of scares.

            I’ve always known where I’d go when I heard a tornado coming for me, the sound said to be unmistakable. I’ve sat in the bathroom at Burger King with girlfriends, I've huddled with babies and dogs, ready to jump into my own bathtub with zillions of pillows. I don’t want to see cows fly past me or wake up in a tree, or worse.

            In our 1970s ranch-style house where we currently live, there are few rooms without external windows. I’ve determined my personal hidey-hole, because it’s every man/woman for him/herself in a tornado warning. I also have a tornado kit.

            The kit contains “sensible shoes,” a weather jacket, a bottle of Desani, and my purse.

            Do I need anything more?

Bats in the Belfry

     Let's talk about bats.
     Not the hot bats swung in the major leagues or by Robert Redford as Roy Hobbs in The Natural. And not Bruce Wayne, either.
     And not the 1.5 bats that emerge from the recesses of that Austin, TX, bridge.
     I'm talking about the bats that eat mosquitoes and drink hummingbird nectar in my back yard.


Long before the most recent incident, a nocturnal critter destroyed my hummingbird feeder and stand by jumping onto it and riding it to the ground, feasting on the wreckage. We guessed the culprit was a raccoon and borrowed a trap for an evening. We caught a domesticated cat which high-tailed it down the street faster than a mockingbird could fly. No more destroyed feeders, though.
   
     Most recently, the hummingbird feeders were ceremoniously emptied each night but the base of the vessel was not pried off. What drinks red nectar in the dead of night other than Dracula and...bats.
   
      Research suggested turning on a light to test the bat theory.
     I moved the feeders again and illuminated them with the back porch light.
   
     This morning, the feeder was still full, untouched by nectar sucking bats.

       Have your hummingbird feeders been mysteriously empty each morning over the past week? Do you have bats in your belfry?

Beads and Baubles

     I accompanied Mother on errands and learned to anticipate excursions to try on hats as she shopped. Her high-heeled shoes, earbobs, necklaces, and gloves entertained me, sometimes in church. The colors and designs captured my eye and as much as Mother loved getting dressed up, I love it, too.
     Fashion accessories today are more sedate, understated. Small and precious takes the nod over large and luscious. Too heavy, too grand, too showy, too matchy-matchy ages the wearer. Borderline gaudy jewelry screams blue hair and early-bird suppers.
     Since putting aside colorful extravagances in jewelry, my craving for sugar has skyrocketed. Candy colored bling and chocolate diamonds may hold the answer to carb-cravings. I've never enjoyed a ring-pop nor have I eaten a candy necklace buy jewel colored pins and rings pull me as surely as a sugar craving.

     The eye-catching jewels are far friendlier to the figure but can wreck the finances.