Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Liveblogging Hurricane Sandy, Part 4

Well friends, we've survived another night. My parents don't have any power, and I'm sure my mom is crawling up the walls, fiending for coffee. Sis and her family in Brooklyn are doing okay, as is my uncle and all them on the Upper East Side. My badass volunteer firefighter cousin (he's 17!) spent the night at the firehouse he works at, and otherwise everybody is regular. New York and assorted regional neighbors have some fixing to do, so I will continue sending love and vignettes from the City that Care Forgot.

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.
So it is now 11:12am in the Crescent City, and they are having some kind of loud screamy meeting in the room next door, in addition to the internet guys banging heavy things in the office directly upstairs from mine. All told, East Coast, I am feeling a little bit of your pain.

Hang in there, and don't take any wooden nickels. Love, Arielle

No comments:

Post a Comment