Spring Fear

So, yesterday I was talking about the love that I have for Spring, but I think it would be unfair not to mention the incredible fear that I have for Spring, too. It's not the pollen or the bajillion may flies that flock to our house, and, which thanks to Matt's and the kids' bizarre refusal to shut the damn door, move in with us. It's not the snakes that come out to play or even the mosquitoes which relish every part of me (I know that eventually one of those suckers is going to have my lucky malaria lottery ticket. My odds can only be increasing).

My biggest fear about this time of year comes from the scary storms that move in from the West. I'm a total freak about it. I love the rain and I don't mind the thunder and the lightning, but in South Carolina, we get some monster storms in March and April. Storms that bring 60-mile-an-hour winds. Storms that produce large hail and lightning that strikes down power lines and trees. Storms that bring one of my biggest phobias: tornadoes. Oh. Emm. Gee. It's pretty much a neurotic state of mind, the depth of fear I have for tornadoes. I hate hate hate tornado watches and warnings. With a passion. I get scared.to.death. You'd think we lived in Tornado Alley in the Midwest. But those people have storm shelters. We don't. I feel vulnerable and unsafe, and I get more uptight than Sarah Palin at a Democratic Party rally where people are speaking in support of gun restrictions.

Every time we get a watch or a warning, I'm glued to the news, waiting to see when the storm will hit, where the potential activity for cells are, and their proximity to us. In an instant, I become Al Roker from the Today Show. I pace around, check the sky for swirling activity and any sign of an eerie, foreboding color... as if I really know what to look for. I'm taken back to tornado drills in elementary school and I remember all of the rules for protection in tornadoes. I open a window in each room to release the pressure so no windows blow out. I always put all of the pillows and heavy blankets in the hall bathroom, which I hope is the safest place to be, and make the kids and Toto Mercy Lou hang out in there, and I don't care if they have to be in there for hours. Tough. Seriously, these things are no joking matter.

And when I see my neighbors hanging out on the front porch yucking it up with cold beer in hand and enjoying the storm, I think they must be out of their flipping minds. I want to yell to them, "A twister is comin'! A twister is comin'! Take cover!"

I just know that a tornado is around the bend, and I have visions of the houses being lifted into the sky ala The Wizard of Oz. Though, unlike Dorothy and Toto, I don't imagine we'd actually skip along the Yellow Brick Road and meet the Lollipop Gang. No no. When the sky turns as green as the Wicked Witch of the West, I do have visions that are better aligned with being arrested to the top of the mountain where her castle was perched and being harrassed by those creepy flying monkeys. Oh, yeah, tornado warnings just cackle, "I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!" Poor Mercy Lou.

So, there you have it, folks. The fear is ridiculous, yes, but I do what I gotta do to get by. Despite the fact that managing my insane state-of-mind during the crazy Spring storms can be a full-time job, I still totally love this time of year. I know that the rain brings the green, and that makes the awful storms more bearable.

Just, please, Mr. Tornado, please do not come to my house. You are not welcome here.