Regular Life

Tatu, former Brazilian football player turned American soccer player and coach, owns this large home seemingly offered up by the leprechaun as the gold at the end of the rainbow. Our modest neighborhood is on the other side of the distant privacy fence; a close look reveals our roof two down on the right from the two-story job.

The weather didn’t start out quite that placid.

After Friday night (that post comes later), I was on a social high, and I looked forward to having new friends over after catching up with the old. Sir and Lady J were scheduled to escort O to our house for dinner Saturday evening.

Despite the day’s dizzying array of dazzling dinosaurs (one more pic and a video follow this narrative), Shannon said on the way home from the Heard’s Dinos Alive! that she might not feel up to having folks over for dinner. I told her I didn’t want her to push herself, and then applied what I felt was the perfect amount of peer pressure. “I was looking forward to it.”

Of course, I knew exactly why I was applying the full-court press. As we headed home, I executed my evil plan.

“There’s something I want to get here,” I said as I whipped Homer into a local grocer’s parking lot.

Gray clouds began spitting rain. Noticing the blackness of the distant sky and the increasing wind, I grabbed the umbrella. An ounce of prevention, don’tcha know. I would like to say my foresight amazes me, but usually I just look like a doofus carrying an umbrella for no reason. It’s a parasol, dammit, a parasol!

I walked straight to the aisle I needed and grabbed my prize, which I couldn’t wait to share with our friends that night. Nearby, a boy stocking shelves munched happily on an inferior product. “Having a little snack, eh?” I asked.

“Yessir, I am.”

Another store employee approached and said sternly, “Hey, man, you eating on the job?”

As much as I wanted to witness the snacker’s fate, I turned on heel and hit the checkout lane.

“Is it raining out there already?” asked the cashier as she peeked over at my umbrella.

I looked out and was almost glad to see not blue sky, but rain-drenched asphalt and a sky the same color. “Sure is.” Finally, vindication for Preparedness Boy.

I tied off the small plastic bag to protect my bounty, then pushed my umbrella open against the stiff wind and pelting rain. Homer and my family sat about a hundred yards away, no doubt keeping an eye out for tornadoes. Whirling vortices of terror know no season in Texas.

Umbrella low and tilted severely to one side for maximum leg protection, I made it only half way to the van before the rain turned to white chunks. Over the years, I’ve come to know these as, “Ohshititshailing.”

I somehow climbed into the van without the wind inverting my umbrella and with my goods intact. The cold blast of wind and the sound of pea-sized hail bouncing off everything made Ben’s eyes open wide.

Most sane people are inside during hailstorms. I count myself among that number, so I knew this afforded me a rare opportunity — a picture of hail. While I didn’t come up with anything great, it wasn’t from a lack of willingness on Shannon’s part. She remained supportive as I thought of new ways to open her window and get a picture without soaking her. The fog on the windows ruined any chance of getting an image otherwise.

Hail makes Texans nervous, because either somebody’s trailer’s about to get flattened, or their brand new Ford F150 is going to get dented.

The high winds left the storm clouds divided, and the sun made the wet streets shine. Just around the corner from our house, a rainbow spanned the sky, all its colors easily visible throughout the entire arc. By the time I found a place to pull over and take a picture, the colors had faded and only the ends were visible.

Back at the hacienda, we had a great time with Sir and Lady J, although Ben tried our patience a bit each time he invaded O’s space. Ben was the “victim” of this behavior several months ago by a child five weeks his junior, but much to our chagrin, he’s become pretty good at it. It’s funny how kids do exactly the same things, but on their own individual schedules.

Our meals in our bellies, we chatted and managed the kids. O was keeping the J’s busy, too, and Lady J lamented that parenting was much easier when he couldn’t move.

It was time for me to pull out the secret weapon, the one for which I had braved a hailstorm. “Well, now let’s do that dessert,” I said. I walked over to the pantry, opened the door, and stood with my body blocking the shelves. I reached in to grab the newfound wonder.

Sir J said, “Oh, I bet I know what it is.”

“And now, previously available only in Canada, it’s (pregnant pause)…” I turned to reveal the four sumptuous chocolate wafer bars in my hands, wrapped in yellow and red. “Coffee Crisp!”

We all enjoyed our treat. Lady J, who works out avidly and watches what she eats, liked it too, and added, “I can’t believe you gave me one of these.” Sir J agreed it was very good, and started plotting ways to happen by the store that carries Coffee Crisp.

My buddy Simon says there’s a “proper” way to eat these. I can’t imagine it makes them taste any better, but I’m ready to learn. (I can’t believe that’s the first time I’ve typed “Simon says”).

Here’s more pic and video goodness from the dinosaur adventure and the hail storm.

On the first time around the trail, Ben wasn’t too crazy about being this close, even with me right there. I’ll admit, I’ve never won a fight against a T. Rex, so I can’t say I blame him.

Both videos captured with Shannon’s Kodak point and shoot.

Hail Yes

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