“Rach, you gotta blog about Floridians preparing for a storm,” you said.
“Rachel, please write something about the hysteria,” you pleaded.
“Silver, Please keep the Facebook posts coming. It’s the only thing keeping me sane,” you texted.
You asked, so I’m answering.
Ok folks, let’s do it:
From my vantage point, I don’t even know where to start. The reality is I haven’t lifted so much as one of my unpolished pointer fingers at all. I’ve done nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. You see, I had surgery one week ago and I’m banned from pretty much anything physical that would make me helpful for storm preparation. Yup. I’m the biggest control freak there is and actually love to do all the heavy lifting even if the world wasn’t coming to an end, but this time I’m benched. I didn’t even suit up in uniform to root on the rest of the team. I’ve done NOTHING, except try to maintain my sense of humor and laugh my way through this big bitch named Irma.
With that said, the unpolished irony is this week marks exactly one year that my divorce was legally final. I guess you could say this Category 5 beast brigade is our divorce anniversary present. The unpolished part about it is given my current laid-up-ness, Andy, my ex-husband, has stepped it up big time and for everything I haven’t done, he’s done a thousand percent more!
Bravo Andy. Bravo!
After debating if he should blow his life savings by chartering a private plane to take the boys and get out of dodge, he (wisely) decided to move back home (temporarily, of course) to weather the storm with the kids and me.
When he finished packing the seventy-two bags of God-knows-what from his condo, I was summoned to pick him up so his car could remain safely parked in his garage. Since then, let’s just say the “hunkering” has begun.
This list should paint the unpolished picture:
- Haddy, my nine-year old is now sharing a bed with me because Andy is living in his room.
- I am officially convinced we have more canned soup than the Campbell’s headquarters.
- Andy bought enough food and water to feed Haiti and Turks & Caicos.
- We normally have F bombs flying around the house on a normal day, but given the tenuous nature of the upcoming doom, I have lifted the cursing ban completely. All words are welcome as long as they are directed at Irma and not at a specific person in our family.
- Speaking of words, I have mandated a “safe word” to be used by Andy and me when we start to annoy each other so that we don’t yell in front of the kids. The rule has already gone into effect and every time either of us do something frustrating, we cut it off at the pass by screaming the word, “PICKLE!” I’m telling you, it works! We have not stopped cracking up and now the kids are in on it as well. “PICKLE!” “PICKLE!” “PICKLE!” Andy is convinced if we had implemented this years ago, we’d still be married!!!!!
- Arthur Ashe Stadium has nothing on my living room. The ping pong table is surrounded with patio furniture and is being used by the neighbors for our very own US Open matches.
- I have been negotiating coping mechanisms with my friends. The text below should sum it up.
- The kids are not allowed to open the fridge without parental supervision. I’ve decided if we survive the storm this rule will be permanent. No exceptions.
- I wasn’t too worried about the storm until I got an email from the camp directors. I can’t help but to wonder if the correspondence about making sure their “Floridian families stay safe” is secret code for “I hope you’re still sending the boys to camp next summer even if the house blows over.” Maybe it won’t all be for naught, and we’ll get some kind of hurricane hardship discount???????
- While I’m on the topic of camp, I gotta send a huge shout out to my Pinecliffe girls. So many of you have reached out to check on me during this debacle and it just goes to show the strength of the valuable bonds we’ve made since childhood. I’ve gotten all your messages and it’s greatly appreciated! Have no fear, I’m still in for our NYC reunion no matter what. See ya in October chicas!
- If I get one more text message from 888-777 I’m turning my phone off for good. I’ll welcome the silence from the blearing alarm sounds which reverberated throughout the entire house when we went into Hurricane Warning mode last night.
- I wish I would have published the blog I started during the Solar Eclipse two weeks ago titled, Total Netflix Of The Heart. If I had gotten my shit together sooner, I wouldn’t have to field the zillion texts I’m getting from people asking for TV suggestions while we still have electricity. (I promise, I’ll finish it.)
- My house feels like a cave. Is it wrong that I like it this way?
- Are we supposed to say, hunker down or bunker down? I think both work.
- I’m not sure why, but today sorta feels like Yom Kippur minus the hunger. Everyone’s just waiting around for hours and hours until we don’t have to feel cranky anymore. The calling and texting to and from each other comparing complaints is in full swing. “Are you worried?” “Yah, I’m starting to worry. Are you?” “My kids are so annoying. Are yours?'” “Do you have enough supplies?” “Is the roof gonna make it?” “How much propane do you have?” “Can my kids come to your house for a little bit?” “Are Andy and you gonna reconcile?” “Do you think you guys will have hurricane sex?” “Did you take ‘before’ pictures of the house?” “Do you think the Delray Market Place is open?” “Are you staying in town?” “Are you leaving town?” “It took so-and-so 12 hours to drive to Orlando.” Trust me, the examples are endless.
- The only thing my children care about at the moment is if Red Zone will work on Sunday so it doesn’t interfere with watching the NFL.
- Selfishly, I’m more concerned about how I’ll watch the US Open finals.
- My nine-year old just asked me with a perfectly straight face, “Mom, you’re probably gonna say no but can I take this can of Diet Coke, shake it and then open it up?”
- Schools have been closed since Thursday and are already closed on Monday. I don’t even know how to continue this stream of consciousness, There are no words.
- Andy just took my car to top it off with gas for the 4th time in two days.
- My 45th birthday is on Thursday. I bet all of you who questioned why we celebrated so early in August are psyched we did! Sometimes I do make smart decisions! Need a killer band? Hire Rock Candy!
- While ziplocking all of my important documents, I came across a beautiful letter my Mom wrote me when I turned forty. Mom, if you’re reading this blog, I’ve stored it safely in the Chanel skin bag you gave me years ago! It’s in the dishwasher with my valuables including but not limited to my Louboutins! #UnpolishedPriorities
- All kidding aside, I truly have no idea what will happen with this storm.
- Andy just gave my nine year old five hundred dollars to put in his backpack just in case. Um, just in case what???????
- Now my eleven year old is negotiating how to get a grand out of him before the first drop of rain comes.
- I stand by my mantra that laughter makes everything better, so I’m hoping to laugh my way through it with my unpolished peeps.
- Not that I expect anyone to take advice from me but if you’re so inclined, listen up! To anyone getting divorced or contemplating divorce, try to keep it classy for the sake of your kids. You never know when there might be a catastrophic storm lurking in your path. And in the event it gets really tense, just scream PICKLE!
JUST TO LET YOU KNOW….Sarcasm and unpolishedness aside, I truly wish you all a safe ride through this shit storm. Please remember to make smart choices, use common sense and laugh. Just laugh. It can’t hurt.