Today while kayaking with my daughter, half of the sky turns bright blue while half is an ominous grayish-blue. We decide that we don't like the looks of the sky at all, and we pack up and head a few miles toward home. By the time we reach my street about five minutes later, thunder has started.
Not one to hang out comfortably in my house during a storm, I decide to drive around. I out-drive the first storm and am circling around for storm wave number 2 when a pal calls and wants to meet right about where the storm is headed.
I do what any intelligent person does: I drive straight into the storm.
After what seems like nothing short of a twenty minute deluge, I manage to park my car, grab some things from the trunk (like dry clothes and shoes since I'm still in kayak gear, and my pocketbook), and get inside the pub before storm round #3 rolls through.
When I leave to head home, I stop for gas just as small waves 5 and 6 are rumbling through. The gas station attendant tells me one bolt of lightning from storm #2 (or perhaps #3) hit like an explosion nearby. I joke that I hope it's not my house (which, actually, isn't a joke because my house is old and keeps finding itself in the path of errant microbursts). Turns out that it's not my house.
