My darling Hubs is a nerd. There, I said it. His hobbies include star gazing (check out his GIANT telescope…) and weather wonking. In fact, I don’t know if there is really such a thing as a weather woody, but if there is, he gets them. He is actually a CERTIFIED storm spotter, with an assigned number that lets him officially observe, assess and report his weather findings. Before you get too impressed, this just means he took a class and can now call into television stations or (trumpet music) the National Weather Service and report his weather observations, using his secret code number so they know he is official.
What this means unofficially is that as storm clouds roll in and things get dicey outside, while most (intelligent) people scamper indoors, he runs out. You can image the marital conversations this habit elicits.
Yesterday afternoon a storm was brewing. We know this because A) Hubs was checking his five different radar apps, B) he was constantly monitoring the barometer on his home weather station (no, I am NOT making this up) and C) I looked outside and it was dark, cloudy, and the wind was starting to gust.
Of course the first logical thing for Hubs to do is bound outside, with his faithful canine companions happily following. After so many years of this drill, I have to say I was most concerned about my darling doggies. I know what my husband normally hears from me in these situations is similar to the teacher in Charlie Brown “Whaa wha wha whaaa.” Yesterday’s conversation went something like this:
“Get the dogs in. The wind is really blowing, and a tree could come down.”
“Get the dogs. They could get hurt.”
“Get the @#% dogs inside, NOW!”
“They’re fine. They’re having fu…”
At that moment there was an ear-splitting crack. We all looked up as a giant tree limb hurtled down from the tree adjacent to our deck, heading straight to smash on Hubs. At the last moment, it took an unexpected bounce on the garage roof, which gave nimble footed, lucky duck spouse time to jump off the back deck and into the yard, four feet saving him from being irreparably flattened. The dogs were faster (and have more common sense) and were found whining at the side fence, hoping to get into the neighbor’s yard and find some human sanity.
During all of the kerfuffle, I was so busy
yelling at making helpful suggestions to Hubs that I failed to notice I was a few steps out on the deck and in the direct path of the falling limb as well. While I was focusing on Hubs, the tree was zeroing in on me. Luckily Son 1 was home for a visit and was standing behind me, watching the show. As the limb came crashing, he pulled me back inside the doorway.
I shakily looked up at him and said “I think maybe you saved me life.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he replied.
I love my family!