The sky isn't falling. That's just rain, dear.

Should I be so blasé about tornadoes? Perhaps not, but any inclinations toward reasonability that I might have are generally blown away (pardon the bad pun) by the ignorance and histrionics of the local weather forecasters.

Don't get me wrong. I have the utmost respect for tornadoes. I remember the one that touched my parents' house when I was a child. A house a mile away was blown to bits, but all it did to our house was delicately lift the cap off of the chimney and set it down in the yard. I've seen tornadoes ravage my home state, seen friends' houses destroyed, spent time frantically calling friends to find out if they and their families were okay.But I only get upset or worried when there's a need to get upset or worried.

This snippet of text, taken from a satirical column in the Huntsville Times, sums our one of our local weather forecasters up well:

A slow slipping away

Sushi leads to somnambulatory domesticats.

A day of chores and errands shifted course at four p.m., when the phone rang. "We are craving sushi. You should come with us." I hung up, made quick arrangements, and met up with the crew for a 5:30 dinner date.

I only know of two places in Huntsville that serve decent seafood. Both are, in essence, equal quality. However, in the past, Edo's has taken over 45 minutes to bring me a simple order of nigiri sushi. On the other hand, Miyako is less glacial and has dollar sushi nights on Mondays.

To Miyako we went, where I downed variously small and tasty tidbits of barely-deceased tuna, salmon, shrimp, and other fish I shan't name in the name of decency. Plus rice, and miso, and plenty of ice water.