All in a Muddle

I think I spend my life saying things will settle down when...
But I need to be honest, things are not going to settle down.
Lately, things have been more hectic than usual. I've been mired in numbers trying to get Grace's trip to France organized. Maybe she'd fly over with Sheila when she went for fashion week. Maybe Earl and Spencer would go over with her for a week? Would she go alone? Would they fly into Milan and visit the Italian cousins before going to Paris? Maybe Frankfurt would be better. Maybe they'd fly into Milan and fly out of Paris. But Earl would be leaving much earlier than Grace so how would I make sure they sat together on the flight out?
I spent days on travel websites. I'd go from Kayak to Priceline to Expedia then to the airline's website: British Air, Air France, American Airlines. I had every possibility written in a little notebook. Then we had to add in train fares and hotels. My mind spun with all the possibilities.
In the midst of it, I started another semester of school at one college and was busy moving toward exams in the other. That's when Labor Day arrived. A time to rest and catch up.
Only, as I was fixing brunch for Earl's family on Monday morning, I received a text that my friend from work, Rini, had a stroke. I made plans to go visit her the minute the relatives departed at 12:45. At about noon, I was walking around the block with baby Caroline when I saw what looked like Spencer standing at the intersection at the top of the hill. That tall boy with the cut out tshirt was definitely my son and he was standing beside his car talking on the phone. Then I saw the police car and the flashing lights. Oh, no. Had he gotten a ticket?
I left Caroline with Grace and raced ahead. The front end of his car lay on the street and green radiator fluid leaked onto the street in front of it.
He had an accident while crossing the side street to our house. The small truck he hit looked fine. A little scraped on the side.

Spencer told me later that the truck basically drove over his front end. But the accident was his fault. Now we started dealing with car insurance and juvenile court to face the ticket for failure to yield.
In spite of the accident, I headed to the hospital at 12:45 and saw Rini. I feel so helpless when people are sick. There's rarely anything I can do to help. So I jumped right in and told Rini that I would grade her remaining essays and give the final exams for her classes.
Well, I'm getting tired just telling this story. Picture me chained to a computer grading papers, searching for airfares while looking for used cars to replace the totaled car, when suddenly I remember that I have to figure out the cell phone dilemma for Grace too, so I start researching that.
On Tuesday morning when the English department called in a panic that no one had finished Rini's grades, I jumped on the computer again rather than going out for coffee with Grace and finished Rini's grades.
Grades are done for one college job. Tickets are purchased for the trip to France. The phone is ordered. The insturance money for the car is in the bank, although we are still a one-car family for now. Rini remains in the hospital waiting for a spot in a rehab center.
Now that I think about it, it seems a little selfish to complain about all the work I have to do because my friend had a stroke and my daughter's headed to France for a few months. I'm grateful that I can help out my friend and that I have a daughter who's about to experience the trip of her life.
I'll quit whining when things settle down...

Blowing in the Wind

I was midway through Yoga X -- I think I was on tree pose standing on one leg with the other leg bent and my foot placed against my inner thigh as my hands reached up toward the ceiling -- when I noticed that the light outside had faded. That's when the trees began to rustle and the leaves pulled as if trying to escape their fastening to branches. The limbs bent with the wind then whipped back.
I stepped onto the front porch and looked up at the patch of sky I could see. Gray clouds raced past but I couldn't see the horizon and the storm clouds piling up. I returned to yoga.

As I attempted a cat stretch, I heard gusts of wind whip through the trees and my phone rang.
"What's it doing there?" asked my husband who was a few miles away downtown.
"Blowing," I said. "Is there a tornado warning?"
Last week we had a surprise tornado warning and the weather service reported eight tornadoes in the state.
Just as Earl was giving me the weather report, Spencer slammed in the back door cursing the car.
"The door won't close," he said. "I had to drive home holding onto the door and I almost died."
"You have to fix it," he bellowed at me.
"Look at me. I'm 5-foot, 4. How can I fix it if you can't?" I asked.
He continued to rant and I told him to come with me. The sky was grayish purple as I knelt down to look at the car door. The latch that usually opened to release the door was stuck closed. I poked at the metal latch while Spencer talked on the phone to Earl and the thunder began to rumble.
Spencer handed me the phone and Earl went into a long explanation while lightning speared from the sky. Spencer and I winced and I ran into the garage to get a tool --something sharp and metal to pry the latch with. I always look for something metal to hold while I'm standing outside in a thunderstorm.
The latch wouldn't budge. I held the phone in one hand and pried at the metal latch with the other. Then the tornado sirens began to whine.
I handed the phone to Spencer. The car was parked behind the garage which slants down toward the alley. The driver's side was on the downhill so the unlatched door was hanging open blocking the way of other cars that might come down the alley.
"I'm going to turn the car around so the door isn't in the alley," I told Spencer. Make sure the door doesn't hit the garage."
He stood next to the garage as I began maneuvering the car.
A tan canvas umbrella that usually shades our neighbor's outdoor table came soaring over her wrought iron fence and landed in the alley.
"Grab the umbrella," I called to Spencer through the open door; the tornado sirens continued to screech.
I saw Spencer struggle with the umbrella and the neighbor joined him while I turned the car into a partial driveway and backed out then pulled forward and backed out, holding onto the car door the whole time.
I pulled the car in behind the garage and the slant kept the driver-side door closed.
"Go to the basement," I told Spencer while I exchanged dire storm warnings with the neighbor.
After huddling in the basement for half an hour and watching on TV as the pink, red, yellow and orange colored radar passed the city, we came back upstairs to a little rain and a few sticks in the yard.
September is not supposed to be tornado season. Tornado season stretches through the spring and June. Two tornado warnings in a week as we enter autumn must mean that something is up with the weather.
If it weren't so beautiful and thrilling, I'd be tired of it.