The tornado warning siren was blaring across the cutoff and beyond. Warning, warning, warning! Take cover now, it droned! We had just started dinner. Not being the type to let a possible twister stop our evening meal, we grabbed our plates, a few candles, and the birdcage and trotted downstairs, put on the television, and continued, secure, with our meal.
Maya, the bird, ate too. Happy to be settled after the rushed trip down the stairs, he pecked away, whistled a cat call I so smartly taught him, and told us over and over again what a pretty bird he is. He slipped off of his perch as well. Maya is as clumsy as I an. Every so often we will hear a thump, his crown askew, and up he perks, looks around like nothing has happened, and starts fluffing his feathers once more.
Tom heard the phone, rushed to get it, and I was suddenly talking to a reporter from one of the local newspapers about the Elmhurst Garden Walk. I have been emailing them for weeks and weeks trying to get some coverage and a call finally comes during the storm. I told her that the bigger story at the moment was the one going on outside. She said she could call back, but I, anxious to secure some publicity for the event, was not about to let a reporter go. So, says I, “No, I can talk. If the roof comes off of the house you’ll know where I am”.
She was very nice and professional and we actually had a lovely nice chat as I chattered on and on about the garden walk. As I hung up, panic struck. The storm had passed, dinner was eaten, Maya was whistling, and Tom had an incredulous look of “I can’t believe you just gave an interview”. I felt a sense of panic, hoping I had said everything I needed to and nothing embarrassing . . .
. . . well, just in case I blew it as the winds were churning here on the cutoff, www.elmhurstgardenwalk.com/ will tell you more about it.
I hope wherever you are, you are weathering these summer storms.
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