At 4:55 p.m. the skies were clear. I left campus and headed to the daycare to pick up the munchkins. By 5:15 we were home, and it was a little breezy, but nothing remarkable. By 5:30 the skies were red - not dusty brown, but red. Like fury from the sky red. Like Marilyn Monroe's lipstick red. You get the picture. 75 mph winds pummeled the house. We hurriedly got the dog in lest the fence blow down, and Rocky go airborne, never to be seen again.
Folks, I've lived in West Texas for a LONG time. I've never seen anything like it. Neither had most others. Reports are that if you weren't alive in the Dust Bowl, you've never seen it. Apparently this is common in Saudi Arabia, and there, wind gusts of 30 - 40 mph will gather up a wall of dust. You've probably seen it in the movies, or perhaps in Iraqi war coverage - it tumbles and boils and roils and picks up both speed and height. In Arabic, it is called a "haboob".
The first time I heard "haboob" yesterday was in a teaser for the nightly news. The face of the female anchor was priceless as she spit out "haboob". I bet all the cameramen and her male co-anchor got quite a kick out of her having to say the word "haboob". I like the word "haboob". I've said "haboob" alot today. Haboob is my new favorite word. I shall now use "haboob" over and over to describe the rest of the related events.
El Hubbo and I watched and took pictures of the haboob. The haboob was quite scary, but not scary enough to keep us from eating dinner. El Hubbo then started to receive calls about the school's ag farm, and how the haboob was causing damage. We finished dinner and then we packed up the kid's in the car and headed out to check on the haboob's path of destruction.
We managed not to blow of the road as we drove facing into the haboob. Upon arrival, we noticed the haboob had blown down the sign over the entrance to the farm. The haboob had also taken one calf barn and flipped it completely over. Another barn's pieces were strewn across the pasture, and the haboob had twisted up much of the tin and metal posts. A third barn had obviously decided to ride the haboob to Mexico. What could be done to limit any further haboob-caused damages was done by El Hubbo and some of the parents and students who had animals out there. Fortunately, the haboob did not hurt any of the animals.
Only a haboob could generate so much excitement amongst generally stoic and taciturn West Texans. In every paper and on every station, haboob is mentioned multiple times. El Hubbo was even interviewed about the haboob by the local news station. He is not as big a fan of the word "haboob" as I am, and stuck to the more mundane, "windstorm". At least he didn't sound like a big boob when he talked about the haboob. Who knew his 15 seconds of fame would all be centered around a haboob?
I do realize that I won't be able to utilize haboob in most sentences beyond today. The expiration date for haboob has just about passed. But, what immature joy the word haboob has brought me. Fortunately, the haboob caused primarily only property damage and for that we are grateful, because this haboob could have been a much worse haboob.
(Just for the record, in this blog alone, haboob appears thirty-two times, thirty-three if you count the title. I do love that word.)
Folks, I've lived in West Texas for a LONG time. I've never seen anything like it. Neither had most others. Reports are that if you weren't alive in the Dust Bowl, you've never seen it. Apparently this is common in Saudi Arabia, and there, wind gusts of 30 - 40 mph will gather up a wall of dust. You've probably seen it in the movies, or perhaps in Iraqi war coverage - it tumbles and boils and roils and picks up both speed and height. In Arabic, it is called a "haboob".
The first time I heard "haboob" yesterday was in a teaser for the nightly news. The face of the female anchor was priceless as she spit out "haboob". I bet all the cameramen and her male co-anchor got quite a kick out of her having to say the word "haboob". I like the word "haboob". I've said "haboob" alot today. Haboob is my new favorite word. I shall now use "haboob" over and over to describe the rest of the related events.
El Hubbo and I watched and took pictures of the haboob. The haboob was quite scary, but not scary enough to keep us from eating dinner. El Hubbo then started to receive calls about the school's ag farm, and how the haboob was causing damage. We finished dinner and then we packed up the kid's in the car and headed out to check on the haboob's path of destruction.
We managed not to blow of the road as we drove facing into the haboob. Upon arrival, we noticed the haboob had blown down the sign over the entrance to the farm. The haboob had also taken one calf barn and flipped it completely over. Another barn's pieces were strewn across the pasture, and the haboob had twisted up much of the tin and metal posts. A third barn had obviously decided to ride the haboob to Mexico. What could be done to limit any further haboob-caused damages was done by El Hubbo and some of the parents and students who had animals out there. Fortunately, the haboob did not hurt any of the animals.
Only a haboob could generate so much excitement amongst generally stoic and taciturn West Texans. In every paper and on every station, haboob is mentioned multiple times. El Hubbo was even interviewed about the haboob by the local news station. He is not as big a fan of the word "haboob" as I am, and stuck to the more mundane, "windstorm". At least he didn't sound like a big boob when he talked about the haboob. Who knew his 15 seconds of fame would all be centered around a haboob?
I do realize that I won't be able to utilize haboob in most sentences beyond today. The expiration date for haboob has just about passed. But, what immature joy the word haboob has brought me. Fortunately, the haboob caused primarily only property damage and for that we are grateful, because this haboob could have been a much worse haboob.
(Just for the record, in this blog alone, haboob appears thirty-two times, thirty-three if you count the title. I do love that word.)
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