Let It Go and You'll Sleep Soundly

Just one post this week! 

 I don't enjoy that, but I have a valid excuse.  J is not napping at all, she's been busy dropping all 4 front teeth at once and gosh are they adorable!  And, I was preoccupied trying to figure out how not to turn 33, but Monday came and went.

Here we go......

Dallas is Tornado Alley.

Forget the stories you've heard about Kansas.

I went out to run a quick errand on Saturday afternoon at 3:45 and was looking forward to a little 570am on my ride.   I am a talk radio addict, mostly because of the joy I am provided by holding private debates with Mr. Beck and the one and only Rush.

 But this isn't a political post, I'll spare our friendship.

As I exited my neighborhood I was warned of 70 mph winds and a torrential storm just 5 miles west of me.  I've been here 8 months and I didn't need a meteorologist to figure these fronts out.   There's no way in the world I am driving in these crazy storms that blow in, wreak havoc and leave just as quickly.

I make a U-turn and raced home in time to watch the wind whipping rain in all directions.  I found out hours later that a tornado touched down and the neighbors could be found in their interior bathrooms.  A particularly devastating twister did great harm to my neighborhood on April 10, 2008.  God was with sweet baby Aidan, the little boy across the street that morning.

Did you know that tornado sirens are designed specifically for outdoor patrons?  They are not equipped nor intended to warn people that a tornado is in the area.  They are simply meant to tell citizens to take cover indoors.  There is one large neighborhood in my town that has the luxury of being able to hear the sirens from inside their houses and we have recently begun a phone tree of close friends calling friends of friends of brother's friends to let them know a twister is on the way, by which time we all know will be too late.

Our satellite TV went out and we didn't have the radio on so I suppose it's our ignorance in just learning the intention of community wide sirens.

The sky cleared and all looked promising for my big date with Jason!  It was the first time we were leaving the children with a babysitter since moving to The Big D.

All snuggled into my skinny jeans, heels and jewels I couldn't stop taking peeks of myself in the mirror!  33 is going to be my year!  Sure, I'd chosen a 2 hour photography class over highlights a couple weekends ago, but the dimly lit restaurant would be forgiving and seriously the focus would surely be on the jeans. or heels. or bracelet.  I couldn't decide, the outfit was one heck of a pulled together piece of art!

We left the house as the sun was setting in the East.

Are you paying attention?  Did you catch that?  I am testing you.

We were heading into the city to a restaurant called The Mansion on Turtle Creek.  Our drive took us through a swanky part of town called West Village.  I seriously need to recruit Juliet's Godmother's Sister-in-Law Marci to take me on a weekend tour of my new metropolitan area.

I guess I could've just called her my friend Marci.  Yes, Marci will be getting Facebooked soon.  I need her.

The Mansion is a fancy, historical hotel and of course a number of wedding receptions were being held.  We chose to enter the restaurant through a cocktail party.  I  stopped at least 3 women to rave about their exquisite dresses and stuck my right hip out a bit.... inviting them to notice my ensemble, too.

I know, I need to get out more often.

Jason quickly dragged me through the reception before I could engage in anymore idle chatter.   We were seated in a private, quiet corner table.

The meal was everything you would expect from  a restaurant with this type of reputation.  Delectable food, but not enough of it.  Drinks mixed to perfection.  Palate cleansing offered between courses.  Napkins laid on your lap. A visit from the chef himself to answer menu selection questions.  And, a piece of chocolate heaven for two, dribbled with.....more chocolate.

As we waited for our car, it had begun raining again.  The valet shielded us with umbrellas and secured us dryly in the car before removing them.   It was the perfect storm!  I mean touch.  Perfect touch.

We were in the middle of yet another downpour.  We crawled home at 10 mph with lightening striking down and very few cars on 75N, a main highway.

I got a text.

It was my neighbor Kelly and it said, "I bet you are scared.  We are home if you need us to run over."

Of course the message I relay to Jason is that there is a firetruck, police and ambulance at our house.  

Not even the perfectly mixed vodka and tonic could save me now.  

Why would we be scared?  

I called Kelly repeatedly on her home and cell phone.  I was in an utter panic.  

The poor girl.

"Don't worry, it's just that the electricity is out, Tracy. But you are so organized I am sure that the In the event of a power outage babysitter emergency kit is placed in a central location."

With absolutely no regard for Kelly on the other end of the phone, I screamed to Jason that I did not realize our new city required such detailed paraphenalia!

An hour later we were home.   We walked into a flashlight lit up house and Juliet laughing and playing happily on the babysitter's lap.  A complete stranger that she's never met.  I was so proud of her.  So impressed with my "go with the flow" "take it as it comes" second child.

I snuggled my baby back to sleep and as I straightened up for the night I caught site of the note I left.  A meticulous list of neighbors phone numbers, doctors, cell phones, etc.  I tucked it away for my next date night and then did something I so rarely do.  Instead of beating myself up for not leaving out flashlights, can goods and candles, I choose otherwise.  I forgave myself for not being as prepared as I should have been by my self imposed standards.

We are our own worst critics.