I am writing this post on Monday morning, January 26th at 4:30 am.
The Blizzard, which is predicted, to start later today, is supposed to be a doozy. By tomorrow morning, Tuesday January 27th, when you read this – we will all know if our forecasters deserve to keep their jobs.
I’m up at this ridiculously early hour obsessing about the storm — because my minding is doing it’s “listing” thing — i’ve been running through the essential inventory of our in-home storm emergency supplies.
I finally pull myself out of bed at this crazy hour of 4:30 am, to check if we have the following essentials to survive:
A Flash Light or 2
Wood for the Fire
My Jawbone Jam Box
A full freezer
Any food at all
Turns out we have none of these and there’s a simple reason why we are totally unprepared for this imminent “weather event.”
It’s my husband’s fault. Although he converted to Judaism 6 years ago when we married, not every bit of him converted. The neurotic/Woody Allen “Jewish” gene that is embedded in my DNA was not transferrable.
Phew! My Bill is in fact a living breathing “port in the storm” for me, his sisters,our 4 boys, his business partners and friends. Calm, capable and unflappable, my Bill is steady and grounded no matter the curve balls he’s been thrown – and trust me – he’s been tested. There is not a neurotic bone in this man’s body.
But frankly,if he had just a smidge of weather anxiety, that would have been helpful — after all, there’s a blizzard coming and we have NO emergency anything in our Boston condo!
Yesterday, Sunday morning, the weather forecast began to encroach on our leisurely day. We were at the house in New York where we spend most weekends. We’d started with an early morning spin at #soulcycle before heading into New York City to meet our friends for a Sunday afternoon brunch and theatre matinee. It was then he landed the weather bomb on me. “Felice, after theatre we need to come straight home, pack quickly and leave for Boston so we don’t get stuck in the snow – it’s going to be a whopper.” I knew this was a serious call to action that wasn’t debatable.
My husband is not a weather alarmist, in fact he is a pretty accurate forecaster. He is the most precise person I know and has 3 weather apps on his phone, not because he has weather anxiety, but because he is a trained airplane pilot. He doesn’t believe in spending a lot of time worrying about weather because “forecasts are 90 percent inaccurate”. He reads radar maps and knows when to be concerned. So when he told me almost 48 hours before the storm that we needed to head to Boston so he could be at work on Monday — I agreed.
Our 6 – 9 pm drive that evening was a breeze. We had a great car-date immersing ourselves into our new podcast “Start Up”. Our friends had recommended it as the follow up to “Serial” at our lunch that very day, and we downloaded it at the table in about 4 seconds. We were totally ensconced for the whole 3-hour drive by Alex Blumberg’s story (you will recognize him from This American Life). It’s about his attempt to start up and raise money for the very podcast we were listening to. Frankly, it felt almost exactly like the story of www.betterafter50.com without the outside investor piece. It inspired me about next steps for our business — (stay tuned). I would highly recommend it to anyone thinking of launching a business but more importantly a media company.
But I digress.
It is now 5:30 am on Monday and it’s hard to believe by tomorrow the snow drifts will be at our door. Like the cowardly lion in the Wizard of the Oz — my mind is chanting: “Flashlights, candles and firewood — oh my”. Damn why did I leave my Jam Box in New York which would be perfect if we have a power outage. And then when I opened the fridge, I was greeted by that old block of parmesan and a measly bag of mealy carrots. How early do the grocery stores open anyway – I need to go shopping NOW!
When we’re not at the New York house on the weekends where my boys grew up, (where we do have plenty of emergency supplies) – we are at my husband’s (and now mine, I guess, after 6 years) 3-floor condo near his work in Cambridge. Although I have tried to bring in my own personal stamp to the condo, new paint, fabric, art and closets full of stuff– it remains to my mind – my husband’s place — even after our 6 year marriage. And that’s why I have no idea what we do and do not have in case of an emergency.
And, because he’s not a worrier, it turns out –there are no flashlights or extra wood or even a shovel! There is no emergency back up anything here!
I’m ready to join the hoards of shoppers when the stores open and get my emergency supplies but it’s too early. I don’t think the stores open til 8:00 am at least. With a quick google, I see there’s a 6 am yoga class to tie me over til then. A little OM would be perfect to settle me.
It’s 11 degrees outside but no matter. A hot yoga class awaits at my favorite studio. As I go through the poses with a packed room of yogis who are clearly trying to fit in their class before the storm, or are biding their time before the hardware store opens — I am suddenly exhausted. Shivasana – in this darkened studio could not come soon enough. And as I lay in the final “resting pose” I drift into the most magical peaceful trance.
And then I hear the voice of the teacher: “Are you OK?” I open my eyes to a bright room and she’s standing next to me with a broom. The studio is empty – i’ve been asleep for 15 minutes.
“Oh dear, i’m so sorry – i must have drifted off.”
Although I am slightly embarrassed, I am laughing. Who needs all those supplies anyway?
I think about the blizzard and realize — I’m so prepared. All I need is my yoga mat, some tea and blankets. It’s going to be a lovely blizzard. And as my OY turns to OM –I head home knowing I have a few things to learn from that husband of mine.