Be prepared.
Snow is coming and of course, I went to the store. Twice. I’m so stocked up that I can barely close our freezer and outlast any storm Mother Nature hurls this way.
An inch of ice? I laugh in your face.
A foot of snow? I don’t even dignify that with a response.
Possible power outages? Hmmm…. well okay, we can eat bananas and onions and throw all that on sale now frozen chicken in a snow bank, right?
Homebound for a week? Now that would be a problem as the only thing in the store I didn’t bring home was laundry soap and we will eventually run out of underwear…. hmm…
If it were up to Ismael we would have only the one gallon of milk (which we didn’t need) that he brought home today. He thinks I’m nuts, and maybe I am. I grew up out in the country and being 15 minutes from town isn’t too far, until there’s a storm. Get snowed in with your family on the day before “store day” and see how well that goes over.
I learned early on it was more fun to get snowed in at my friend Misty’s house. If there was a hint of snow, her mom immediately went to Meijer, bought all kinds of food, games, and movies. SNOW equaled PARTY.
While it’s not quite going to be a party over here, I did decide to clean this place around the corners and in the nooks to make the possibility of being stuck here a day or two more pleasant. This means that my husband immediately left to do “errands” and wouldn’t take Adam with him.
His return went something like this:
::texting from the parking lot, chirping my phone:: I’m almost home. (He was outside our bedroom window. I could SEE him.)
::Chirps:: What r u doing? (Cleaning his house)
::Chirp!!!! CHIRP!:: Is Adam fully awake? (GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH)
I call him. “Stop texting me stupid crap from the parking lot. I can SEE you for heaven’s sake. Come inside.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“I can’t. I’m watching these people move in upstairs.”
“…..”
*click*
Three minutes later, Ismael’s ring tone disturbs my phone. William Schuester from Glee throatily intones “Tell me something good….tell me that you love me.” Wishful thinking. I answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning.”
“Where is the boy?”
“STANDING ON MY BACK.” oh how I wish I were exaggerating.
*click*
I swear there is some special grace that God gives you in marriage that prevents you from offing your partner with the cast iron frying pan your best friend gave you for a wedding gift.
Recently took both boys to see “Tangled” so that husband could finish a long project he’s been working on. Cast iron frying pans figure prominently in that movie; you may want to see it for ideas. My sweet darling husband likes to call on his way home, about 600 or so and say “so what should we do about dinner?” To which I say “no, we’re all set” but what I want to say is I THOUGHT ABOUT DINNER AT 10AM SO THAT AT 6PM NO ONE IS STANDING IN THE HELLISH LINE AT THE STORE OR ORDERING EXPENSIVE TAKE-OUT.
Isn’t he helpful?