Loretta tells me that she loves watching clouds, and tonight, we have the show of the century.
So much for an evening braie, a South African BBQ, we need to first make sure we don’t blow away with the tornado clouds. I don’t even know if there are twisters here, but the undulations and sideways blowing palm tree makes me think of the freight-train sounding tornado that blew through my house in the early nineties. Barely home from a soccer game, my brother and I watched through the living room french doors until the very last minute.
Later, I found my soccer cleats at the other end of the neighborhood.
Now, however, we nix the grill in favor of nature’s show, safe and secure on the back patio to contemplate the Tibetan Book of the Dead.