Forecasting.

Supposedly there was a hurricane headed for Houston. Kenny and I never like to actually believe them. Cause most of the time they are wrong. But you just never know. And, of course, the one time we don't listen, the damn thing will actually materialize. So we charged the flashlights, filled the water cooler, and moved all the patio furniture to the garage. And really, the umbrella tries to take off in small rainstorms.

I woke up this morning to nothing more than gray skies. The weather forecasters found the one pocket of rain, and stood in it trying to make the situation more dire than it was. They posted pictures of Tropical Storm Allison. Sheri and Daniel remember Allison quite well. ;0 They showed the flooding. The days of rain. They talked about the conditions that caused it, and briefly threw in that we didn't have those conditions this time.

Then, the news warned that the first band of the storm was hitting Houston. It was along Beltway 8. We waited. I stood watching out the back window, as little sprinkles hit the pool. It picked up slightly. Nothing I would call bad. The newscasters hunkered down in rain gear, screaming over the "downpour." Really? It rained worse two weeks ago, people. But they don't want to look stupid for predicting a big, mammoth storm that is producing nothing more than a little sprinkling.

Now supposedly the worst is yet to come. In about thirty minutes. I am stiiiiilllll waiting. I'll let you know if my house blows over.