What Would You Grab?

The other night, I was playing our new Wii fit, and I found out that I am 44 years old, due wholly to the fact that I cannot balance. “Do you fall down a lot?” Wii asked. I didn’t know Wii was so sassy. But yes, I do fall down a lot.

I also run into doorknobs at least twice a day. My hips are permanently bruised. If I ever needed to measure a door for  knob placement, I would just lean against it and say, “Hip height seems to be the standard.”

So, in the middle of finding that I’m 20 years older than I thought, tornado sirens started blaring. Of course, like any human since the beginning of time, my first action was to go outside and look at the sky. “Pfft,” I said, citing my knowledge from the 1996 box-office hit Twister, (and some Lewis Central tornado drills) “There’s not even a wall cloud.”

The sky was looking a little green though, and when the birds stopped chirping (classic movie warning), Z, Moxie, and I rushed downstairs, bottle of wine in tow.

I had about a minute to pack an emergency bag, so I grabbed what I deemed most important at the time.

People always ask you that question during team-building shit. It’s a real “Get-to-know-ya” exercise.  “What would you grab with only a minute to spare?”

Everyone always says they’d grab their jewelry, their photos, their birth certificates. Love letters (should you be lucky enough to have received some), maybe a few electronics. Cash.

Here’s what I actually grabbed (after the wine):

  1. My super sweet backpack that I just bought at Urban.
  2. All of my tie-dyed stuff.
  3. Clean underwear.
  4. My lucky cardigan.
  5. Laptop, cell phone.
  6. Closed-toed shoes (so I could walk through the rubble).

What does this say about me?

Well, I’m 44, I’m practical, but I like to party.

We wined-and-facebooked for about an hour before we learned that there never was a tornado threat. Just wind. False alarm. I’m sure anyone who lived downtown thought there was an air raid. CWS people and Jackson Street dwellers alike probably hated their ears for a few hours.

Me? I sipped Z’s Tempranillo while my dog rested on my tie-dye shirts.


“You’ve got to do an awful lot to get kicked out of the Underwood.”


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