January 12, 2007 by Amy

Plan B, among other things

I’m sitting there last night, and my sister calls me and says, “What’s Plan B for the shower?” I grunted, “Huh?” She said, “You know, because of the weather.” “Again, huh?”

Obviously, I need to watch/listen to local news more. I had no idea that we are about to get shelled with horrible weather. As she’s telling me about the giant ice storm that’s forecasted, I’m wandering into the library where M is pounding away on his laptop. It’s easy to find him these days, as he’s quite frequently on the laptop, and if I just follow the gray CAT-5 cable from my computer as it snakes through the house, he’s at the other end. Why don’t you get wireless, you ask? Metal-lathe walls prohibit anything of recent technological origin from working in our house. Even the baby monitor is full of static. But I digress.

So I ask M, “Are we really supposed to get pounded this weekend?” He says, “Not bad. You know, just some cold weather and some rain.” He pecks in weather.com and waits for the page to load. “Uh oh. We’re f&^%$ed.” Great. Greeeeaaaaaaat.

Beanie and I created Plan B, which essentially just calls for the shower to be re-scheduled for January 27, as I’m in San Antonio next weekend for a business conference. To top things off, in my haste to get Plan B out to the guests this morning, I quickly created an e-mail that contained a huge typo in the first sentence, lovingly pointed out to me almost immediately by Bridal Beano. I typed, “bed weather” instead of “bad weather.” I reasoned to her that bad weather = bed weather, as when it’s nasty out all you really want to do is stay in your nice, warm bed anyway, and that I meant to do that. I don’t think she bought it.

While I welcome extra time to plan, clean, and get my house in order, I do not relish the thought of moving myself, my husband, my child, my cats and my food to other residences until our power is restored. Again. For the third time in less than a year.

Whatever we’re doing to piss Mother Nature off, we need to stop it. I can’t smite Ameren much more, really, as they’re quite smote already.

The cell phone is charging just in case, and I’m taking a stack of industry pubs home to read if I’m unable to vacuum, watch West Wing, or host a bridal shower.

On a lighter note, my new specs came in today, and I’m quite sassy in them if I do say so myself. Behold, the new glasses: