We'll pick up this liveblog from around 6:23pm last night, when I popped into my neighborhood corner store for the finest box wine they had available.
"What do you do again?" the clerk asked me.
"Oh, uh, I work at rehab," I said.
"Rehab? Really? But you buy a lot to drink!"
Yes, great thank you.
At 6:45pm, I realized I had gotten approximately nine text messages, all from hurricane-affected friends and family, responding to my earlier lasagna inquiry. The consensus was sauce on the bottom, then noodles, cheese, other stuff, and so on. To my immense surprise, a broccoli spinach concoction emerged from the oven looking quite a bit like lasagna. Thanks for the support, team!
Anyway, how's that hurricane treating you? My grandma told me around 6:52pm that she can't vote for Romney because "he's so rich, he doesn't know how to care about poor people." Well said, Grandma!
Which takes us to about 7:06pm, when the pumpkin carving party began in earnest. I don't know who ate all the mini Milky Ways (or where all that box wine disappeared to), but let's just say that Slappy "Mel" Jackson III is a true pumpkiny vision of loveliness.
|Family portrait: Guess which one is Slappy "Mel" Jackson III?|
I can't really recall many details beyond that, but at 8:38am I e-received an adorable photo of my baby niece surveying the wind damage in Prospect Park, an 10:55am email from my mom confirming that she was able to get her some coffee this morning, and a 9:41am conversation with my uncle in which we covered affirmative action, cognitive-behavioral therapy, and the Negev Desert.
Hang in there, and don't take any wooden nickels. Love, Arielle