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Storm the goodies, have a ball

By BARBAR L. FREDRICKSEN
Published October 7, 2006

Okay. Does this mean I can start eating my canned Dinty Moore stew and tins of Vienna sausage?

The weather experts now say it's highly unlikely this area will be hit by a hurricane for the rest of this season.

So, is it time to put my sack of emergency provisions back into the pantry? Maybe I should throw a party with V-8 Fusion, mocha Frappucino and a large bottle of Bombay Sapphire (you get through the hurricane your way, I'll get through it mine) on the beverage cart, and saltine crackers with canned cheese as hors d'oeuvres.

I have plenty of Handi-Wipes for after the meal and cans of mosquito repellent in case someone wants to sit outside on my blue tarps and watch the October clouds drift in front of the big ol' Hunters Moon. I also have crates of heavy-duty plastic bags we can use for after-party clean-up.

This joyful non-hurricane news, of course, comes just days after I cajoled my dear handyman, who'd rather use his Saturday to do almost anything else, into fitting my windows with big sheets of plywood and hired a tree trimmer to thin out the trees to withstand 200 mph winds.

Now my window rims look as though they have chicken pox and my trees as though they'll need a heavy chenille bathrobe once winter (temperatures of 58 degrees) arrives.

The good news also arrived mere hours after I had finally organized my papers (just couldn't bring myself to throw out my 1963 tax return, though), dug out my old passport, searched the house for my savings account deposit book and packed it all up for quick retrieval as I flee before the tidal surge or huddle in the wind-driven rain.

On the bright side, the fear of a hurricane has forced me to do things I should have done anyway.

And, being superstitious (when it suits my purpose), I suspect that if I had remained totally unprepared, we would have been hit with an unprecedented number of storms.

All's well that ends well...

Speaking of snacks, the vending machine here at the Times has been broken for many months. It still dispenses chips, butter popcorn and chewing gum, but the "E" row with all the good stuff - Baby Ruth, Snickers, M&Ms, even salted peanuts - hasn't worked for ages.

We've complained to the vending company and to the nice fellow who comes to refill the machine every now and then, but row "E" remains broken.

As with many other things in life, a hardship - and, believe me, going without a Snickers while on deadline can be a hardship - turns out to be a character-building experience.

Since I don't like any of the remaining snacks, I've gotten in the habit of bringing my own: bananas, peaches, yogurt, sunflower seeds, granola and almost-fat-free popcorn.

I just stuck a note on the vending machine asking the service man not to repair it. Without row "E," I've managed to drop five pounds.

Sometimes, it never ends

For two weeks now, my breakfast room floor has been covered with three big empty boxes and three big boxes full of new computer equipment.

The empties are for my 1996 computer, which I have finally acknowledged is obsolete, since it can't handle the Internet. And everything, including the juiciest parts of most stories in My Favorite Newspaper, seems to be on the Net.

For some reason, though, I can't bring myself to take down the old and put up the new. I think it's my vision of the Internet snaking its way into my private life. To me, viruses and hackers simply sound like another form of home invader.

I know I'm missing a lot not being on the Net. Last year, my son and I had to brave all-night sprinkler systems and roving wild animals to trudge over to a vacationing neighbor's home at midnight so he could get an "A" boarding pass from Southwest Airlines on her computer.

Worse, I can't go online to register my opinions in those instant, and very inaccurate (especially since I rarely agree with the results) polls more and more television programs are holding.

[Last modified October 7, 2006, 06:47:52]