Fretting and stewing

Talked to my parents in Nebraska this morning. It is tornado season there, and they are having wild thunderstorms and heavy rain. Lincoln's geography usually protects it from tornadoes, while small towns nearby are completely devastated. Lincolnites take those yellow-green storm skies as seriously as they take their corn-fed beef, and spend quality tornado-warning time in their basements every year. Apparently, last night was a wild one, with a very quick inch and a half of rain.

Spring storm season coincides with maple tree helicopter season. The backyard maple puts out Hefty bags full of seeds, many of which end up in the roof gutter. The frontyard maple seeds cover the driveway. My folks reported that their plan for the day was to clean the maple twirlies out of the gutters. Eighty-one year-old Howie would go up the ladder, and seventy-five year-old Fritz would stand at the bottom to catch him, I guess. This was not a reassuring image.

Mothering teen boys has given me some practice with going about my day and letting worries stew in a little mental crockpot all their own. I don't have to watch the pot or stir it, and the worries usually turn out okay. This crockpot approach let me go on about my errands and swimming, even though I knew Howie was up on the ladder. Like a teen boy, he's going to do what he wants to do.

My mom must know about slow-cooking. She left me a phone message that they had completed the gutter endeavor without incident. They have a bumper crop of soggy twirlies that will have to dry before they can be bagged for the trash. Soggy twirlies I refuse to stew. Does remind me of a lima bean casserole I had to make once for a Spanish class "fiesta". That was a real mess when the crockpot spilled in the car!

Tornado season causes me to have two odd food cravings.
I think it's the barometric pressure changes!

Howie's Stormy Ice Cream Sundaes:
1. In a tall drinking glass (absolutely not plastic) put as many scoops of vanilla ice cream as will fit.
2. Add a bunch of salted peanuts.
3. Pour on the Hershey's chocolate syrup.
4. Take it out to the porch with an ice tea spoon.
5. Eat while counting "one milk bottle, two milk bottles..." to figure out how far away the lightning is striking.

Instant Basement Tornado Party:
1. When the sirens sound, grab your little kids and head for the basement.
2. On the way through the kitchen to the stairs grab the 2-litre bottle of root beer and a bag of pretzels.
3. To keep the kids from panicking, tell them "it's PARTY TIME!"
4. Sit everybody on the old double bed in the basement and giggle a lot.
5. Open the pretzels and pig out.
6. After the kids stop bouncing on the bed, pour the root beer and toast to the occasion.
7. After each boom of thunder, get the kids to yell, "That was a good one!", or "Wimpy-wimpy, you can do better!"
8. Keep up the giggling and laughing until the kids start falling asleep on the old bed, or the storm ends.

The first tornado party menu was just what happened to be in the kitchen. After that, I learned to stock up for the season, and kept the pretzels, paper cups, flashlight, and transistor radio ready in the basement. The kids did not appreciate change or innovation in the tornado party menu. Root beer and pretzels were a security blanket. At one point we even had a little dorm-style refrigerator in the basement loaded with root beer.