Stormy Dinner

It was almost noon (read: lunchtime) when we pulled out of the church parking lot yesterday. Natalie, who is constantly hungry right now, chirped sweetly from the backseat, "Can we go out to eat?"

I glanced at Corey. He glanced back. "Maybe later tonight?" I said under my breath. "Teyla is going to need to go down for her nap soon."

So the deal was made. We would go out to eat -- possibly to "Red Lumpster" -- for dinner.

Four-thirty rolled around. The day, which had started heavy and hazy, had grown ever more foreboding. A storm just to our north was boiling in the sky. Suddenly, the sirens sounded, piercing the air with their rotating scream.

Being a Certified Weather Geek, I immediately ran to our deck. The skies to our north were dark and angry. But we were clearly on the edge of the storm. The skies above us were only gray. And to our south, the sun peaked through the patchwork haze.

I ran back inside, and simultaneously pulled up my favorite weather website and turned on the TV. Normal golf coverage on our local NBC station was pre-empted for Storm Watch. (That's what we called it back in San Diego. Of course, Storm Watch in SoCal means "your patio furniture may get water spots on it; stay tuned for this crisis as it develops." Here in Minnesota, it means something slightly different.)

The TV screen was a swirl of psychedelic colors. The meteorologist (Sven! In Minnesota! I love it!) was saying things like, "There's a confirmed tornado on the ground in Coon Rapids. The storm is moving directly east at about 40 miles per hour. It's a fast storm, capable of 60 mile per hour winds and golf ball-sized hail."

Be still my beating heart.

Natalie, who is slightly sensitive to bad weather lately, particularly tornadoes, appeared ashen and quiet at my elbow.

"Is the tornado going to get us, Mom? Should we go to the basement?"

Good question. The tornado wasn't headed toward us at that moment. If it stayed on its projected path, it would hit towns about 15 miles north of us -- certainly close enough for us to see the storm, but not close enough for us to seek shelter.

And then Corey appeared. "Are we ready to leave for dinner? We promised the kids."

Hmmmm. Another good question. We were on the edge of the tornado warning area. It wasn't even raining at our place. The restaurant where we were headed was south of us, which meant we'd be moving even further out of the storm's path.

What would you do?