Monday, May 08, 2006

Weather, Now with 100% More Grandparents

"I bought us a weather radio," Gloria said as she put a small box on the counter.

"Congratulations," I said, "you've just become my grandmother."

"Stop it," she said.

"Seriously," I said. "Now you can sit hunched over with a shawl around your shoulders, listening breathlessly about every cloud that passes within a hundred miles of the city."

"It's not like that," she said. "I can set it to only come on for alerts in our county."

"But we're straddling another county, and I like the sound of that."

"So I'll use that county, too," she said.

"Here's the problem," I said. "You don't wake up. Your alarm clock could be a functioning grenade and you wouldn't even blink. So at four in the morning, I'll hear this: THERE IS A THUNDERSTORM WATCH FOR THE AUSTIN AREA. THREE DROPS OF RAIN FELL ON A WINDSHIELD SIX HOURS FROM HERE, AND WE JUST LIKE TO BE CAUTIOUS. I'll be peeling myself off the ceiling, and you'll never hear a thing."

"Just watch where you fall," she said.

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