A Tree Almost Hit The Scribe; Utah Under Attack

    Check my tabs for my newly released book and the iPad2 giveaway.

    For two nights, the weather has been terrible.  Winds rose up.  It was even worse than the time I went outside and watched our tree almost fly away.

    Here's that post if you're interested (it's still one of my top three most popular posts):  We Pulled the Plug 

    Anyway, forty-two schools are currently closed in this area.  50,000 residents without power (including my brother's and sister's families).  Utah sustained damages I didn't think were possible for this area--over 8 million dollars in Centerville alone.

    Yesterday morning, I woke with a start because our house shook in 100 mph winds.  

    I watched the news and gasped! I opened our front door and the wreath, holder and nail ripped from the door and flew away.  

    A huge garbage can slammed across the street and tumbled into my yard.

    Then, what terrified me the most, was when a bunch of dogs ran down the street.

    "Oh my gosh!" I screamed.  (Sorry to keep talking about movies in posts but . . .)  It reminded me of apocalypse movies.  Animals sense bad things first.  Maybe the end was nigh--AND it wasn't even 2012 yet!  

    I struggled shutting the door, then just stood there on the porch.  The winds whipped around me and a dog broke free of the pack.  It was my neighbor's dog, Sox.

    I ended up putting her back in their yard, despite flying garbage and winds that threatened to take my skinny body to Oz.

    And through all of that, I was shocked to find out the Davis School District hadn't canceled school for my girls.

    I took them after that because if my mother taught me one thing, it's that you go to school and get an education--even if you think the world is ending!  I was a bit worried though, so I went to check on them later in the day, around eleven.  Many of the classrooms were without lights.  The heater wasn't working.  I watched as one class huddled closer to the window, talking in the scant light it shed.

    But my girls--those warriors--insisted on staying at school.  I didn't realize until later what a scary day it had been.

    The school day ended and I picked my girls up.  The Scribe smiled with madness only a tomboy can know.  "I almost got hit by a tree!"

    She sounded ecstatic--WHY was that a good thing?

    "What?!" I barked, choking on my coffee.

    "Yeah," the Hippie jumped into the conversation, "and there's no school tomorrow because the school doesn't have any more electricity--isn't that awesome?" 

    "Wow," I said, "but back to the tree."  I tried remaining clam. "You were going to tell me the delightful story of HOW IT ALMOST HIT YOU?!"

    "Well . . ." The Scribe smiled, her hair bushy and her blue eyes sparkling.  "I was walking the track with Angel, and a tree just floated across the track--like it was a ghost.  I thought it was epic, so I just smiled at it, but Angel stood there screaming.  Then a teacher ran from the school and he was just as terrified as Angel.  He screamed too and so some of the other kids started staring at the tree and screaming with him.  Like this: 'Ahhhhh!' . . . 'AHHHHH!' Why would a teacher just scream?  

    "I kept thinking we should run, but it was so cool.  It wasn't special effects or anything!  Then the guy stopped freaking out like a girl and he yelled, 'Get in the school now!  Get in there NOW!' 

    "So we did, even if everything was really dark.  But it was exciting when everyone wasn't freaking out."  

    "It was crazy." The Hippie turned to me. "I wasn't scared either, though.  I was just cold and it's hard reading in the dark.  Anyway, how about you, Mom?  Did you see any ghost trees today?"

    So, that was our day yesterday.  We're all staying home today and I'm hoping to get some editing, writing and proofreading done.  I need to work on a scary scene, though--I bet I could write about writhing winds and ghosts today! 

    In closing, I'd like to ask you the same thing the Hippie asked me.  How was your day yesterday?  Did you see any ghost trees--I've heard they're all the rage . . .