Batten down the hatches. Storm’s a brewin’. Just received word it’s minutes away. Will arrive in 4-wheel vehicle. Disguised as a human dynamo. Dressed in cargo pants, probably cammoed, and a Batman T-shirt. Full of energy and prepared to eat any of grandma’s fixin’s, including beets and onions in vinegar that are "tingly." I see the headlights in the driveway. Here comes that 5-year-old tornado. Hang on.