The Gardeners Anonymous Blog

Waiting for Santa and the Next Flash Flood Warning

That puddle on my patio is my septic system overflowing...yay.

Here I sit with nine dogs, three boys and a septic system that is slowly backing up into my house. We are waiting for the electrical system to fail, or a tree to fall, or both.  I have approximately 30% of my Christmas shopping done. Thunderstorms are expected throughout the day, and my husband is in the garage building an ark. 

Actually, my husband is building cabinets for one of the two rental remodels we have underway. I did try to steer him towards the ark idea, but he told me that if the world was going to end, it would have done so on Friday. 

I am expected to go out to the garage soon and start painting a door.

 Rusty helping me write after playing in the rain.

So here I sit watching my garden float away. What was once the lawn is now a muddy bog.  I have one dog on my lap, and eight at my feet. 

I just read the weather report: it says we might get a full inch of rain.  Judging by our rain gauges, the reality is more like 7 times that, and the rain shows no sign of letting up.

This is not doggie pee-pee. It is just rainwater seeping into my living room. 

My boys want me to drive them somewhere in this deluge.  I told them they would have to wait for the ark. 

Today I am wondering:

“How is Santa going to find us in this torrent? 

and 

“Why did we decide to do TWO remodels during Christmas?”

Flash Flood Fashion

 

Flash Flood Fashion When my phone’s text alert woke me early in the morning last week, the first thing I noticed was the roar of driving rain battering my roof. Oh, I sleep so well when it rains. There is something so soothing and cozy about the sound of the rain….and then there was that little tinkling alert from my phone.

I rolled over and groped though a pile of reading glasses on my nightstand for a pair with appropriate magnification, and examined my phone. There was a large scary red triangle staring back at me with the words “FLASH FLOOD ALERT IN YOUR AREA.” I had never received a message like this before. This was a warning for ME, on MY phone, flash flood alert in MY HOUSE. This seemed like a bad thing.

With visions of the apocalypse bearing down, I leapt out of bed onto a large, unsuspecting dog, ending up in a heap on the carpet next to where he had been lying. While he licked the surprised look off my face, I listened to the rain on my roof, which now sounded like the beating of Sioux drums telling me that Custer was on his way.

I stumbled to my closet and hastily got dressed. Catastrophic circumstances have never been a good thing for my personal fashion presence, historically speaking.

I sprinted outside wearing a baseball cap under the hood of my rain jacket, which I was wearing over my robe, which partially covered my pajamas, which were tucked into my black rubber muck boots. The only thing I was missing was a black rectangle over my eyes, and a big “DON’T” stamped across my outfit.