I'm not afraid of very many things, just spiders, snakes, spoiled onions, liver, chicken livers, bugs, wrinkles, dark places, and tornadoes.

See, hardly worth even talking about.

As a cop's wife, I kept crashing into "alone." By contrast, Lynn kept running into danger, so I'll take my crash instead. And frankly, he did a good job of taking care of both his family and his job.

Take storms, for instance. Oklahoma is bad on tornadoes. Okies fight 'em, Nature just keeps bringing them back. Before I get to the bad, I'll tell you a true story, of "good."

You know me, I wouldn't exaggerate.

Lynn grew up on a farm, and we loved the freshness of home grown vegetables. One year, our garden was particularly important to us as it provided most of our food, and at the time, cops were barely paid a living wage. We didn't know food stamps existed, and probably wouldn't have filed for them anyway.

When Spring sprung, here came the vicious storms Oklahoma knows so well. Living in Tornado Alley gave new meaning to insomnia. One night, a severe storm blew in and not only did we fear for our lives, we were very concerned about our garden. The hail was going to destroy everything we, mainly Lynn, had planted and would force our grocery bill beyond what we could afford.

The thought of losing our beautiful bounty of crops made me sick. After the storm, we peeked out at hail covered ground. Slipping on ice, we made our way to the garden. The hail was the size of golf balls and many bigger than that. There's something strange about ice on the ground when the temperature is 92 degrees. The mind just doesn't want to accept it.

We were stunned when we got to the garden's edge. It was unbelievable.

Folks, (I'd say "my friends" but McCain has ruined that phrase forever.), I promise that if I'm a-lyin' I'm a-dyin'. We did not lose a single anything. The apricots were on the trees, the tomatoes were bright and red, not a bruise, not a leaf was damaged, the beans beamed, the corn stood straight.

It was a miracle. Did the God's smile? Was it the Law of Attraction before LOA was cool? Was it Karma, Cosmic Pleasure, Divine Design?

Whatever it was, it was gorgeous. I knew from that day forward, that sometimes, you just get a break. Why Hell followed often yet left me alone that day I had no clue, but who was I to argue with destiny.

The bad, was the many nights of being forced underground. I know, gripe gripe, whine whine, get over it, huh? When you suffer from claustrophobia ( I left it off the list to purposefully ignore it.), the damp dark places steal your air. I was faced with many nights of Lynn watching the storms for the town, and me going to the cellar alone in my nightie, dragging kids who thought it was a big adventure.  "Cellar, O boy! Wake up, guys we're going to the CELLAR!" they exclaimed with great delight. What do they know?

When the wind blows in Oklahoma, you learn to wear your long handles if you don't want your barely-there's to show at the worst possible moment when you're about to die.

Here's some things to keep in a cellar if you're a person of few phobias, like me:

• Bug spray and face masks so you can spray for bugs and kill them, not yourself.
• Big, thirsty towels
• Unperishable snacks, plenty if you're a nervous eater
• a soft mattress, off the floor so critters have to climb to get to you; why make it easy on them? They have plenty of legs.
• Games for the kids.
• Don't play "I Spy" if you hate spiders.
• Tissue for you if you're a crier.
• Batteries, fresh, preferrably dry.
• A radio for the batteries, batteries alone do not receive weather information.
• A chair
• Air freshener
• A porty-potty, you'll have to go.
• Make room for pacing.
• A pen and paper to write the book "Everything you need to know about cellars but were afraid to ask." See next hub.
• Copies of Identification on your body, don't ask why.
• A joke book.
• Toe nail clippers, just in case you have time.
• Lights, lots of lights, many many lights.
• Candles but be careful and not in the summer because there's not air in there, come to think of it, forget the candles.
• Oh yeah, bring toilet paper, preferrably not when it's raining.

I hate cellars, I am Marisue and I write.