Evacuation instructions

I'm all for unusual and quirky public monuments, and I've certainly seen a few tasteless sculptures in my time, but this...this just leaves me speechless!

Riders on the storm

I never thought I'd see the benefits of living in a treeless subdivision, but I'm seeing it now. We got whupped last night by a severe thunderstorm, and our beloved mature shade trees once again proved what a liability they are. Oddly, this episode was almost a repeat of a similar storm we had two years ago. Both times:

• it occurred around 7:30pm on a very hot day
  
• I was home alone with 2 kids and 2 panicky dogs
• Violent winds smashed trees and branches all over our property
• The power went out
• No damage to buildings or vehicles, but several near misses

Lessons learned from last time that proved useful in this instance:

• Put the patio umbrella down when it looks like rain
• Bring in small moveable items
  
• Have a working generator capable of running your well pump
  
• Keep your cell phone charged at all times
• Keep your trees trimmed
  

Despite above preparations, we still lost a bunch of trees and large limbs; I still had to extricate our cars and driveway from fallen branches; we still had ruined patio furniture (our wonderful $50 chaises from Target were punctured by falling limbs, but the ugly 1970s white table my in-laws foisted on us WILL NOT DIE); we still needed to take a day off from work to deal with the mess.

Ways this time was better than last time:

• Power outage only lasted one night instead of four days
• DH was half an hour away instead of 5 hours away
• Cable, cell service, and phones did not go out
• The generator (purchased after our old one failed to work in previous storm) worked like a charm, so the fridge and water system did too
  

Ways this time was worse than last time:

• Many more trees/limbs down in our yard
• Much more severe damage to standing trees
• Much closer calls with trees falling on buildings

It was amazing how much destruction can happen in just 10 minutes, which was about the duration of the worst part of the storm. Melrose and I watched it from an upstairs window on the downwind side of the house. The dogs panted at my ankles as branches smacked down on the roof and trees bent and whipped outside. Once it calmed down I could see it was probably as bad outside as last time. In our yard at least, it was worse. Our big old maples were still up but pretty ravaged. Our cherry tree in the front yard was split in half. One of our beautiful horse chestnut trees had snapped off right at the base. Big limbs were down all over the yard, including some on the house, barn, and cars, and more were blocking the road.

But I can't complain. I don't think anyone would after watching this video on the Today Show. Even as I sweated and dragged what seemed like 1,000 large tree limbs across the yard into the woods for hours; even as I got scratched and bruised and dotted with bug bites; even as DH and his dad and countless neighbors brought out the chainsaws to combat a seemingly endless mess of destroyed trees; even as I snapped photos of our bedraggled lawn and fallen trees and broken gutters, all I could think of was this young family's house, and the very land it stood on, swirling off into the river.

My family is safe. My house is safe. The power is on. It's a beautiful day. No complaints here.

You lost me at hello

We got a robo-call yesterday from Chain Pizza Store Which Shall Remain Unnamed, promising us some great droolworthy deal on a large pizza combo. The voice sounded like the excited female version of that Moviefone guy.

We also frequently get mailings from this same chain, with coupons.

DH and I LOVE this pizza. We also like this restaurant's other admittedly-not-healthy offerings, like garlic bread, cheese bread, etc. When we lived in DC, we regularly ordered pizza from this place, and it was delivered, usually promptly and as ordered. We were good and appreciative customers. We gave them generous tips. We didn't give them a hard time if they took awhile to arrive.

Then we moved to the semi-sticks, and our longtime relationship with this particular chain hit the skids. Although we are at most 15 minutes away, no longer a drive than we were from our local outlet in DC, the guys here didn't seem to know if we were in their delivery area.

After a couple of attempts, it became apparent that whether or not we were in their delivery area was up to whichever teenage guy happened to take our call, and how motivated he was feeling at that moment, and occasionally how busy or short-staffed they were that night. One night we were not in the zone. Another night we were. One night when we were not in the zone, DH asked them why they bothered sending us flyers every month if we were not technically "in" their designated area. Neither the teenager nor his manager could answer that.

The best was one night when DH called them and ordered pizza, and gave them our address. The teenage phone-answerer yelled across the room to his coworkers, "Hey, do we deliver to (our street)?" The other guys responded with something unintelligible, and then the first kid came back on the phone and said, "How much will you tip us?"

Needless to say, that was the last time we bothered. Cheese bread notwithstanding.

And the coupons keep coming, and now the robo-calls exhorting us to call them RIGHT NOW for a "speedy delivery! Right to your door!"

"So," you may ask, "Why do you feel ENTITLED to have your dinner delivered? Why don't you just drive over there and get it yourself, you lazy bum?"

Because we're lazy bums. Duh. Also, we're busy putting kids to bed, doing laundry, cleaning up after our cyclone-like offspring, paying bills, and returning phone calls, and come 9pm on an occasional night when we're too worn out to make dinner, we just want to sit on the couch, watch TV, be totally lazy and spoiled, and effortlessly stuff our faces with greasy food like so many of our fellow citizens across this great nation.

Believe me, o pizza guys, you want us as customers. I mean, we're nice people. We tip well, when not subject to blatant extortion. We won't sic our crazed dogs on you. We won't make you go out in bad weather, or wreck your shocks on a dirt road. You will not need to sit in traffic or circle looking for a parking spot. We'll buy lots of food because we like leftovers. We will not defect to That Other Pizza Chain (which is several miles further away and definitely won't deliver), because we like your food better. And we do not, by any means, live in the middle of nowhere - this place is turning into suburbia as fast as an army of bulldozers can scoop. So why hit us with ads and tantalize us with the prospect of delivery when you won't deliver?

Disclaimer: I am aware that there are greater and more pressing issues in today's world, to which my unrequited desire for pizza delivery as advertised is but a fraction of a granule in a very large sandy beach. I am also aware that, were I motivated, ahead of schedule, and energetic enough, I could just schlep over there and pick it up myself (even though it would get cold and kind of gross because I don't have one of those heated therma-thingies in my car). And I could have chosen to live in better proximity to said pizza place, thus guaranteeing delivery. But I didn't.

I am not whining about my lack of delivered pizza, nor my lack of any kind of pizza. My objection is to said pizza chain killing trees and dispatching robot callers to shove it in our faces that this delicious food is out there and they will deliver it, but then they won't actually do it when asked in a reasonable tone of voice. Or any tone of voice.

Unless, apparently, we bribe them with a lot of money.

So knock it off with the ads, or expand your delivery area another half-mile. Not to mention, don't harvest our phone number for ads when you only got it because we called and you took our number and then wouldn't deliver.

Sadly, not getting this pizza (or Chinese, or Thai, or anything DC restaurants deliver) anymore has not caused either of us to lose the weight we probably put on by eating it.