Most of you who know me know that I went through a rather intense phase in my life where I knew I was destined to chase storms for a living.
Although that dream didn't quite play out exactly how I imagined it when I was a young teenager, I do somewhat get to live out that dream by merely living in West Texas.
The weather can get buck wild out here.
By 5 pm last night, storms were blowing up all over the South Plains. I wasn't too excited about this at first, because Byron was flying back from a quick trip to San Angelo on a little twin engine plane - right through all of of Mother Nature's fury. But, he landed safe and sound after a rather hairy flight, so we headed out in his truck to see if we could capture some of this good stuff on film...or a digital memory card for that matter.
The interesting thing about storms on the South Plains is when they blow in as quickly as they often do, they stir up an amazing amount of dust from the plowed up cotton fields in the area. The blanket of dust at the head of the storm "browned out" the north side of Lubbock.
We drove out of town to get a better look at the storm. That meant taking the occasional dirt road to get a good angle on the thing.
I stepped outside to get this shot and the wind was so strong, Byron had to pull my left arm in as I tried to shut the door with my right. I got sandblasted in the process.
When it rains during a dust storm, it basically rains mud.
We found ourselves near Idalou, just northeast of Lubbock, and in the storm's hail shaft. You can hear it hitting the truck in this video:
Thanks to Byron's handy navigation, we drove south out of Idalou on dirt roads to avoid the hail. We finally got out of the storm, and just far away to get a good look at it. We were able to park and watch quite a lightning show - or in my nerdy storm chasing lingo, some sweet "C to C" lightning (cloud to cloud). Watch it here:
The cloud was hot enough I was able to capture lightning on camera with a point and shoot.
It was a beautiful storm. A little rain, a little hail, a lot of wind, but no tornadoes.
Three day weekends usually mean an opportunity to squeeze in a quick trip to the Natural State. Memorial Day weekend was no exception.
It also proved to be a time to squeeze in a lingerie shower.
The concept of lingerie showers has always been interesting to me. I've been to some that made me extremely nervous, and I've been to some that were tastefully done.
This was one was tastefully done. Except for this...
This is evidence of a couple of teachers being ready for school to be out for the summer. I have no idea how they got that picture. It was obviously from my days as a Victoria Secret model.
It was an enjoyable time. Thanks Karen, for hosting this at your house, and thanks to Hannah, Sarah, Rachel and Susan for helping with the hosting duties. It was marvelous.
The fact that I was opening presents of underwear was not the weird part to me (although that's not a usual occurrence for me). Rather, it was the idea that people were gathered around watching me open presents of underwear that was odd.
Spring time in Arkansas is always a pleasant sight.
Mom's new patio provided a lovely place to enjoy Memorial Day festivities...or each day's rain shower.
But, sometimes you get a rainbow when the rain is through.
Sometimes you just get hit in the face. It's bound to happen at some point in our lives.
Just ask Brett Jackson. He recently got hit in the face.
Brett coaches a Little League baseball team, because he's a class act citizen and all-around sports fan.
I'm not sure how he feels toward 12-year-olds now. Last week during pre-game warm-ups, his pitcher got a little wild and pelted him in the face as he was bending down to pick something up.
After a visit to the ER, he had this nice shiner. (His eyebrow doesn't normally bulge out of his head.)
Let me also give you a reminder of the hazards of the diamond field. This is Byron's thigh after he decided to slide.
And this is one of two bloody knees after I fell down running from third to home plate.
Upon looking at these three disgusting sports scrapes, please vote in the poll on the upper right corner of this blog.
It makes me laugh that just about every time peanuts make the news, reporters can not resist the allure of nutty punchlines.
I was in Brownfield, Texas all day yesterday getting some video and still shots of peanut planting. Delwin Marrow, a peanut farmer in Brownfield, let me hang around his fields all morning. He's a great guy and is very passionate about his duty as a peanut farmer. It was a crazy foggy morning, but the fog lifted, and gave way to gorgeous (and hot) day.
(This is not Delwin, by the way)
A few reporters have been interested in following up with peanut farmers about how the salmonella issue and drought have affected them as they begin to plant the 2009 crop.A news crew joined us in the fields yesterday to do just that.
In August, I will gain a new title that I'm quite proud of - "aunt".
I'll be proud of the other new title I gain, too.
These two little dudes are something else.Thanks to Byron's older sister, and now younger sister, I will eagerly answer to their children as "Aunt Winsey".
Tate is the oldest of the two little dudos.He's three.
("Dudo" is his name for other people. Before I came along he called himself "Mano".I've now incorporated these terms into my everyday vocabulary.)
His favorite song is Survivor's 'Eye of the Tiger'. The kid can sing every word and play it on the drums in Rockband. I think the Prairie Grove Tiger Band could use his help.
Some might say he's a miniature version of his Uncle B. Both are handy with a baseball, both have infectious personalities, and both require a little food to calm them down.
(Whether Tate decides to be Barbara Bush for Halloween during his youth like his Uncle B is still unknown.I guess sometimes you've just got to be the First Lady.)
During our last trip to Houston where Tate and his parents live, we were treated to a crawfish feed. To make sure there was no confusion that these were Texas crawfish (as opposed to Louisiana crawfish) Roy added a rack of ribs to the spicy pile.
Almost two weeks ago, little Tucker came into this world.
Other women (you know who you are) have always tried to scare me with terrible horror stories of labor and pregnancy and children. They think it's funny. It's sounds rather stressful. But, Lauren seemed to have flown through it like a champ. She looks as cheerful and bright as the morning.(Thanks Lauren, I stole these pictures from your Facebook.)
Now we have this little guy to ooo and ahhh at and talk funny to - it's always made me laugh how we instinctively talk like morons when we talk to babies or puppies. This is little Tucker McWilliams. I think he's destined to be a state senator with a name like that.
We flew back to Lubbock from Houston just a few hours after Tucker was born. I'm ready to start spoiling him like an aunt is supposed to do. I guess I'll have to wait until August to do that.I want it to be official spoiling.
Everyone was anxiously awaiting Tate's first response to his new cousin. I think he sensed our anticipation and got nervous.
His response was, "Whatever. B, let's go play baseball."
The weekend after little Tucker arrived, so did a painted turtle in our backyard. I don't know how he got there, and I also don't know how he got out of there so fast. I know this has nothing to do with nephews, but I was amused and wanted to share it with you.
A couple of Saturdays ago, I moved into our new house. This house makes my fourth Lubbock address, and my favorite so far.
The house we bought was built during the Golden Years - 1955. The previous owner completely remodeled the inside and put down this lovely saltillo tile throughout the entire house.
No carpet here folks.
We plan on painting a few rooms.
And of course, no move would be complete without cupcakes.
Apparently, it was moving day on 40th St.
Luckily, we had our "Lil' Sammy Mover" to help us.Byron was helpful, too.
A big thanks to our moving help. Luckily, I didn't move into another second floor apartment.
When it rains during a dust storm, it basically rains mud.
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