Stormy weather

 

Where is Lena Horne when we need her? Supposedly we had stormy weather last night, though I didn’t hear it. I do know we had rain, and now we are due a few days of respite before the next round of storms hits. It was one year ago today that the Central Texas town of Wimberley flooded so badly, sweeping homes and people away. Today, southern Texas is getting it again with record amounts of rain in the Houston area and flooding in Austin. My oldest son in Tomball reported that some of the school children had to spend the night at the school---they couldn’t get home, and their parents couldn’t get to them.

Colin reported it was so bad he came home mid-day yesterday and had to find this road and that to avoid water—you know the world is ending when Colin comes home early from work. Their lake is as high as he’s ever seen it, but I want pictures—he assures me the house is well away from it, but they’ve only lived there two years. How does he know how high it can get? It is probably flooding the stables next door, which means the water is badly polluted. He  will tell you I’m doing what I do best—worrying about my children.

I wonder when Texans will learn the lesson about not driving into standing water. We hear it preached every spring—and every spring people are lost because they thought they could drive through that puddle. There have been several lives lost in the flooded part of the state, and several high-water rescues. Colin and his family were going out around noon to have lunch and do errands, and I heard myself repeat it: Don’t drive into standing water. It didn’t earn me the exasperated sigh it should have—he is one well-rooted person with a lot of common sense, and I know he would never put his wife and kids in danger.

Meantime in soggy Fort Worth I spent the day inside at my computer, where I am perhaps happiest. I sit here working and think I can do anything. But when I got up to fix some lunch and put wet rags in the dryer, I had only energy enough for the lunch. Jordan came and made me a wonderful pasta salad for my supper—spinach noodles, mushrooms, hearts of palm, lots of butter and lemon. She knew I am getting tired of tuna (is there a title there? A song title: “Tired of Tuna” Maybe we could apply it to Tuna, Texas).

Although they didn’t go today, the Burtons have been busy with the Dean & DeLuca Golf Tournament (which we all call the Colonial); tomorrow they will  take Jacob, whose pretty much a fan of almost any sport. The other night I called him to my office, and he stood across the room, that bored stance and expression that says, “What do you want now?” I told him Baylor had fired Art Briles and Ken Starr, and he perked to attention, all nonchalance gone. Then he called his dad, and I didn’t hear much of the conversation except this line, “Yes, Dad, I know what rape is.” Oh my, what a world we live in.