It's another stormy day here in Dixie Alley.
Don't know where that is? I didn't either til a friend mentioned that I was in Tornado Alley--and like a mom whose just been told her kid is both ugly AND deviant, I completely rebelled against that label.
So I went to the source of all knowledge, Google, which sent me to the Great and Powerful Oz of the Internet, Wikipedia. And thus, all was revealed. I apparently live in Dixie Alley, which is much like Tornado Alley, except it sounds better and if your trailer park gets hit in a storm, we bring you fried food, gravy and biscuits. Or a casserole topped with French's French Fried Onions or Ritz Crackers.
These blustery days of spring would likely be even too much for dear Pooh Bear, whom I believe I just saw flying past my window holding tight to Piglet's hand. They are predictable, and yet, unpredictable. We can watch them creeping towards us like some great colorful amoeba on the radar screen. Trained professionals show us the hooks in the storm, tell us what time to the minute that the storm will be in our area, and even call out our streets by name.
But in the end, it's random. Of the thousands of folks crowded in basements, bathrooms and various other safe places at any given moment, most of them may never see the real storm. And often those who do never saw it coming.
What do we want out of life? Do we want to live on edge, in a state of constant awareness, amidst our cases of bottled water and canned foods? Because you know, canned gravy just isn't the same. Any Southerner will tell you that.
Even though I am often a big glowing ball of anxiety, I think I'd rather enjoy the sound of the rain than stay fearful of the storm. It's a fine line I walk, because in all honesty--I do drive a Volvo. I like knowing that a consistent paycheck is coming every week. I buy the same shirt in three colors--and those colors are usually white, black and my wild card, green. Maybe blue if I'm feeling crazy.
At the same time, I am learning--some days, against my will--to take life as it comes. Blustery day, tornadoes and all. If I spend all my time worrying about the future, I'm missing out on some pretty amazing present. So, being the organizer I am, I have now chosen to spend only 18.6% of my time worrying about the future. Except that I have kids so 18.5% of that time is actually spent worrying about THEIR future.
It's a big scary world out there, and we don't need Piglet to tell us that. All we can predict is that things will be unpredictable. Know where your safe place is in case you need it. Drive a Volvo. You can never have too many white shirts. And don't forget to stock up on Ritz crackers in case you have a friend in need.
