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Saturday, May 1, 2010

Prom-enade

High school prom day.  Also bad weather day.  Translation: tornado warnings and the second highest recorded rainfall we've had since they started measuring precipitation at the Nashville airport.  We're experiencing the worst flooding since the 1970's.  An incredible day all around. 

Prom, with it's late group dinner date via a Hummer limo ride to a local sushi restaurant and steakhouse here in town, along with the after-prom parent-sanctioned party that celebrates until 5AM, most likely followed by a breakfast outing, will be an event with staying power.  The storms are expected to exacerbate the flooding for the next 36 hours.  In the morning, my husband may or may not make his way to the airport and on to parts much warmer, dryer, and decidedly a bit wilder in that infamous well-lit Nevada desert town full of one-armed bandits and extravagant hotel complexes.

My kitchen table and island are covered with the contents of our small pantry.  Believe you me, once a dog, three grown children, my husband, myself, and our friendly visiting hair stylist all squeeze in there, along with our personal records and purses and phones -- not to mention that overbearing cloud of prom hair on my daughter's head -- one realizes just how limited the space is.  I've got the crick in my shoulder to prove it!

Everyone was lamenting the fact that I had completed a P-90X workout and NOT had time to shower away the olfactory evidence.  Even me.  (Note to self: add 'shower' to the list of actions to complete in advance of expected tornado warnings; right up there with bicycle helmets for shrugging off falling canned goods, gathering personal records for safe keeping with those of us in hiding, and keeping Ashley's weather radio close.)

It had to be an experience for our guest.  We are a verbal bunch and the stress of the warnings, bringing to mind last year's terrible tornado, had my girls in a bit of an uproar.  One acted out her fear of tornadoes in general; the other exuded irritation that prom might be canceled AND  loudly expressed her anger with her reactive sister.  The brother poked fun at his sisters with a few well-placed efforts at mimicry.  The dad went on and on about how warnings were simply a heads-up that one MIGHT wish to prepare for possible entry into said pantry.  I, the mom and wife, prepared my spot in the pantry and hung out with the dog.  Drank a mineral water.  Chewed a few taffy pieces from Savannah.  During the sardine moments, when bodies were pressed against one another in uncomfortable ways and everyone hoped no one would experience gas (did you SEE my earlier Facebook post?), I couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling over.  It was all rather amusing.  Comical, in fact.  I understood the seriousness of the possible outcome.

But I understood the humor in it, too.  Prom dresses and tornadoes?  Too classic.  Never to be forgotten.

Give me a few lemons, and I'll get right on that lemonade!

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