A deafening clap of thunder shook our house and set off car alarms down the street this afternoon. Lightning flashed through the sky, which was as dark as dusk, even though the July sunset was three hours away. Huge raindrops pounded the pavement until a torrent of water ran down the hill.
"I guess the pool's closed," I said as I watched the storm out the window.
A gentle rumble of thunder sounded as we sat down under an umbrella at the pool. It had been raining when we headed up there, but it was mostly a sun shower, and we figured we would be getting wet anyway. We eyed the guard, but he seemed unconcerned by the storm. "It will be break time in a few minutes," I said to Heidi, "I guess we can wait and see if it thunders again."
She scanned the sky and agreed. The darkest clouds were far away, and there was no sign of lightning. We heard a few more peals of thunder in the next 15 minutes, but they sounded far away. When the break was over, a woman and her young son came and jumped right in the water. The lifeguard sat on deck with his flotation device slung over his shoulder. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still dark, and I didn't think we should go in.
"We should just go home," Heidi said, drumming her fingers.
"But what if it's over?" I replied. "I'll be mad if we leave for no reason."
"Do you want to get in, then?" she returned.
"The rules say 30 minutes," I said. The woman and her kid were merrily splashing in the shallow end beneath gray skies. "Let's give it ten more."
"Let's give it five," she countered.
The water rippled beneath a light breeze, and there were patches of blue between the clouds. "Let's go now," I shrugged, and I shucked my tank top and shorts and dove in.
"How do you think you scored?" our host asked us as we exited the escape room and filed into the lobby. Bill, Emily, Heidi, Treat, and I had just celebrated Treat's birthday by outwitting the pharaoh and solving the puzzles to complete the tasks in the three chambers of his tomb.
"Not very well," I laughed. We had escaped, but it hadn't been pretty.
"Really?" the guide said, looking a little hurt. "Well, come on over here and check out this screen."
An 88 flashed across the monitor mounted over the door.
"88's not bad!" he told us, "You beat the three other groups before you."
"Were they children?" Emily asked suspiciously. We had seen several birthday parties waiting before our reservation.
"No, no," he assured us. "They were adults. You did the toughest room. Most kids go for the dragon one." He gestured at the screen again. "Look at the bar graph on the bottom. Most groups score 60 or below."
We nodded as two girls of about 12 approached the door. "Can we go in?" they asked.
"I'll be right there," he told them.
"Just those two by themselves are going to do it?" I said. "That explains the average!"
I must have dropped the screws a dozen times, but Heidi, bless her heart, picked them up every time and handed them back to me as I stood on the ladder.
We were helping our friend who was injured in an accident by installing new shades on her windows, and I was resistant to drilling pilot holes since it meant switching back and forth between the bit and the driver. Eventually, though, I had to reassess my strategy, since I was working on a ladder and over my head, and it was impossible to hold the bracket, the screw, and the drill without having it rain screws all day.
But then, once I had both brackets tightly fastened in place, I realized that by using the rear screw holes, I had blocked the lip of the bracket, so the blinds could not be snapped into place. So I had to remove all four of those damn screws and drill two more pilot holes before refastening the brackets and locking the blind in place. All of this as our friend and four dogs watched the show from the couch across the room.
Fortunately, I was able to keep my cussing to a minimum and maintain my good humor. "That was the learning curve!" I laughed as I moved the ladder over to the next window. "This one will go much faster."
And it did.
We have a good friend who works for an intelligence agency, and we were all sitting around a couple of months ago when she blurted, "I need to tell ya'll about my latest purchase."
We nodded, ready to hear about some electronic gadget, home decoration, or fashion item. "I bought some 20-liter water jugs," she reported, "for my go bag. I also got some really great MREs," she added, referencing some freeze-dried entrees.
We continued nodding politely as she proceeded to outline her emergency plans. "I guess you can never be too prepared," I said.
And I didn't so much write it off as put it out of my mind until today, when I was looking at Wirecutter's list of the best Prime Day deals under 25 dollars, and noticed a link to another of their articles, called, The Best Gear for Your Go-Bag.
This is getting real.
Or is it?
It's always exciting to visit the garden after having been away for a while, and it has been a while. I haven't gone up there since before we went to Charlottesville on June 28, and so I was eager to see how things were growing.
When I finally made it this afternoon, I was a little disappointed. This has been a tough year: a cool and rainy spring was followed by a hot and droughty early summer. Torrential thunderstorms have been hit or miss, and while everything is growing, not much is setting fruit. My tomatoes, squash, beans, and peppers are weeks away from producing. A stroll by the other gardens in our community plot confirmed that everyone is in the same situation.
The only upside? The weeds aren't growing either.
Once we got off the interstate and were just a mile or so from our house, I rolled down the windows and let the warm, humid air fill the car. After nine hours on the road, Lucy sat up and lifted her nose, swiveling her head around and snuffling deeply. I swear she made eye contact with me in the rear view and smiled as if to say, We're almost home!
