I was all set to write last night when suddenly I hear the tv in the living room star doing that alarm sound and announcing rotation in some cloud. My town wasn't mentioned, but no less than a minute later, the real alarm went off and I went into full panic mode, which included me walking on my injured foot, because if I have to run, I'm doing it. That was not fun. I felt like someone was tazering me. The alarm only lasted for a minute, though, but my cousin and I spent the next three hours watching the sky and the radar online, because we're obsessive weather geeks that way. God, these things scare me. My grandfather was all ready to carry downstairs, but my cousin said, rightly, "If there's a tornado coming, she's going to be down there before any of us."

I got major burnout yesterday. And I got four more history books today. *sigh* Need to read fiction. *eyes Christopher Moore novel on the table* Or perhaps I might get some fanfic in if my hips aren't too tired of this chair. Maybe.
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From: [identity profile] lotus0kid.livejournal.com


I spent the night downstairs when Isabel came through. I was worried the tree outside my window would fall.

No kidding? Well, I don't suppose I'm surprised Fool has its share of discrepancies.

From: [identity profile] guanin.livejournal.com


That's why my cousin got rid of the tree outside his window. It was dead, anyway.

The sign I saw in Scotland said something like "if there was somewhere in a medieval castle women belong, it was not the kitchen." See, patriarchy was so fucked up that even though women of every class were expected to know how to cook, they just weren't considered able enough to cook a nobleman's or monarchs regular, sumptuous meals. That's too dignified for us poor women. Or some BS like that.
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