So last night we grabbed a couple of friends and headed out to a little dive for beer and wings, because that seemed like a fitting way to celebrate our last child-free night. No matter how hard I try, I just cannot get the kids interested in hot wings. (Or beer. Damn kids.)
So anyway, first someone brought us some water and then DIED, or at least that’s what we assume happened, because after a good half hour of sitting there with just water, Otto had to go track down someone to wait on us. The gentleman he brought back was extremely sweaty and I could not stop staring at his hairline, where his hair was plastered down with wet and beads of sweat clung to his forehead. “What do you suppose he’s doing that’s MAKING him that sweaty??” I asked, after he left; but even as I said it, I realized that was one of those questions I really didn’t want answered.
There was some confusion over our wings order, because we tried to order 40 wings and they don’t OFFER an order of 40 wings, you see. So we tried to explain that he could put it in as a 30 and a 10, or even as two 20s, and collectively we were thinking Wow, this guy is a real MORON, but after a few minutes of back and forth it finally became clear that actually, what he was trying to tell us was that 50 wings cost about the same, and we should just get 10 more. Apparently, WE’re the morons.
So we got our wings and ate ourselves into a stupor and talked and laughed and had a great time, and the men even made plans to bond over a trip to the dump this morning, because apparently That Is What Men Do.
We sat long after the food had been demolished, but eventually had to get up and go home. Back at the house, Otto and I fell to our computers because WE’RE ALL ROMANTICAL LIKE THAT, and I was checking email when Otto told me that they’d had a tornado in Atlanta.
You know, a tornado? One of those big funnel cloud things that’s only supposed to hit trailer parks in the boondocks?
So we spent the rest of the evening watching CNN and our local channel and marveling at the damage and the surreality of it all.
Today, Atlanta is basically, well, CLOSED, and we’re under tornado warnings until 7:00 tonight. As of right this second, the airport is reporting delays of 15 minutes or so. But the next wave of storms isn’t here yet.
GUESS WHAT! My kids are supposed to be flying home tonight.
The good news is that they’re flying through Charlotte—Oh! Well! Charlotte isn’t all that far; maybe we could just drive over there to pick them up!
The bad news is that they’re flying through Charlotte—which is also under heavy storm warnings and a tornado watch. Their airport might end up closed, too.
My kids have been gone for an entire week and with all due respect to the weather, THAT’S ENOUGH. Time for them to come home, preferably without involving a traumatic plane trip where they get stranded somewhere.
Mother Nature is sort of a bitch. Hmph.