Becoming Helen Hunt

For (half of) spring break, I went to Witchita, Kansas. That's where my Grandparents on my mother's side live. Waiting for us were mis tios, my uncles and aunts on that side. Along with my cousin. Witchita hadn't had any wet weather in a couple months, so it was quite due by the time we were rolling in. On this trip, I drove quite a bit. The ten hour trip was divided about 40/60 between my mother and I. On the way into Wichita, I was driving. To the northwest of us (I think), storm clouds were brewing, with occasional bursts of bright thunder looking like scribbles coming out of those dark clouds. Of course, I just thought We would never quite hit that mass of darkness and if we did, it wouldn't really affect us, right? It would just be some rain. Wrong. Coming straight toward Wichita was a tornado.



...or at least the possibility of one. My grandfather called us to warn us. Suddenly, every flash of lightening frightened the hooey out of me. My eyes opened wider and my hands gripped the wheel just a little tighter. As we entered the city, th storm was right above us, even though they had called off the tornado warning. Gack. I really did feel like Helen Hunt. But we survived it! I spent a lovely weekend+ with my family. I even got to go shooting for the first time. I got to shoot Grandpa's legendary pearl handled pistol! As anyone could guess if they just hung out around me for a while, my aim was definitely not static. My shots were all over the board, or paper, rather. But I got a wicked -sorry- filthy bullseye. That's the word with the new connotation that Uncle Joe taught me. Yes, I shot a bullseye. I shot a rifle and a .357 along with the pistol. Unfortunately, the .357 shares something with the lovely tornado lightning, in that they both scared the ness out of me. Wow, that gun packs some punch, like Tang! So let's get down to the part that's actually relevant: my hips. Yay!



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