Good morning, Monday. Perhaps you've heard that here in New York we're under a bit of a snow emergency- with a bombogenesis happening and such (look it up). All one can do is listen to Janet and hope for the best. Is it too early to crack open the pinot noir?
So I consider myself a bit of a weather disaster vet- from hurricanes in Miami to hurricanes in New York to an impending bombastic snowstorm, I've learned what one needs to get through it all- lots of batteries, candles, canned goods, more batteries, wine, chips, more wine, and more wine. That's pretty much how we do it around Casa Rosenberg. I'm a bit concerned about my little Khan muffin, he is all of 9 pounds and I have a feeling two feet of snow is not going to be so fabulous for him. Since he's a daycare regular, I'm banking on the fact he surely must know how to use a wee wee pad, though he's never used one in our home, so here's hoping if he has to go, he is not too proud to make like other dogs of his size and ilk and utilize that pad. Here's hoping...
And as you would imagine, I've enjoyed observing the panic stricken New Yorkers, rushing around even more quickly than usual, making sure they have enough artisanal granola and organic pinot to weather the storm (I do live in Brooklyn, you know). At the deli on my corner, the one they're going to turn into a J. Crew in a year or so, the mood was decidedly crazy. In New York, there are many excellent strategists, meaning we are all smart enough to deduce that getting into Trader Joe's may lead to angina, therefore the corner deli is a great option for all of our yogurt, almond milk, and soft eating licorice needs. One woman who looked as if she had already been through some sort of apocalypse or another, simply muttered to herself "G-d help me, G-d help me" as she frantically tried to grab a box of crispbread. Another woman, in a hat with earflaps walked in and saw the line and simply said "it's only snow people damnnnn!!" As I thought better of my need for yogurt and pizza sauce (don't ask), the owner of the shop eyed me trying to put back my items and coerced me into the back of the line, telling me "it's only worse at THAT place across the street, you know", that place being the aforementioned Trader Joes. He had a point, so I waited in line and judged everyone's carts as New Yorkers do. The hipster guy in front of me was buying some romaine, one yogurt, and some couscous. Really? Remind me not to go to his house during the storm. La-ame.
Another lady behind me had two packs of swiss cheese, some seltzer, and elderberry soda. Weird.
And after waiting it out for half an hour in a store that doesn't even have real emergency items like toilet paper or batteries, I went home to continue thinking about my contingency plan- because our mayor basically told us we were all going to die and that we should never leave the house again. Isn't it a mayor's job to keep people calm? That DiBlasio. SUCH A DRAMA. I never thought I'd miss Bloomberg, but his monotone, nasal New York twang would be much more comforting vs. DiBlasio in his windbreaker spreading panic. Doesn't he know anything about New Yorkers? We're neurotic enough.
And this am I had to go to work, while poor David runs around and gets everything I forgot to get. Khan is holding his own, not a care in the world- he doesn't know what's coming and perhaps it's better that way. He is the dog that slept through Hurricane Sandy in its entirety. He may be scared of plastic bags flying in the wind, but superstorms? Nah.
I am really hoping we don't lose power, because I surely have some major binge watching to do. PS it's a shit time to be on a major diet. Somehow scandinavian crispbread and plain yogurt don't seem like such a fabulous snack for a blizzard. I guess I'll just drink. And drink some more. And skulk around in my American Apparel onesie, starving to death and reaching delirium.
In any event, please stay warm and dry and if you happen to be somewhere warm and dry, go f$@! yourself. I'm sorry but I have little patience for social media gloating today- I so enjoy a snowstorm but this whole "go big or go home" vibe Mother Nature is throwing down lately is a bit too type A for my tastes. Keep it together, everyone. Gather your kale chips, artisanal waters, and designer snow boots. Shit's gonna get real. I'll let you know how it all goes, from the tundra of Cobble Hill. I have superstorm fatigue, but do love the word bombogenesis. I don't love the thought of all the babies that may be conceived today as a result of that bombogenesis. It only means more double strollers in line at Trader Joe's the next time Mama Nature decides to get all cray with us. Cause that's what's up this whiteout of a Monday in the 212. Yours, in the storm that is Juno. XO