Just came up from the basement, where C. & I were cowering until the tornado warning expired. In the old days a warning meant a tornado was spotted; from what little I caught on the TV before heading down below, it sounds as if now/here it means the conditions are right for one to be produced. What I know as a watch. The radio (in the basement) wasn't much use---no FM was talking about the weather, except one line from the middle-of-the-night guy at WEMU, and I could barely get AM stations. So few are really local, anyway, any more.
It's still pretty lightning-y out, but C. just didn't want to stay in the basement any more. And neither did I, to tell you the truth. But dang if I didn't turn off the computer, grab the fuzzy one & the phone, and race down the stairs as soon as I cognized what that siren sound was about. You can take the fflo outta Kansas, but you can't take the Kansas outta fflo.
Now there's the romantic combo of thunder and the train whistle out there in the semi-distance.
fflo outta Kansas, but you can't take the Kansas outta 