Campers, you may not have heard - but there's a hurricane headed my way!
I have spent the last 24 hours or so feverishly preparing for every foreseeable circumstance.
The bathtubs are sparkly clean and ready to receive their last-minute fillings of cold water. In addition, twenty gallons of bottled water for drinking and cooking are lined up neatly in the basement. The ice cube maker in the freezer has been going full tilt, preparing chilling fodder for the insulated chests which will harbor milk and other perishables when the electricity goes off, as the weather-prediction panjandrums cheerfully and tirelessly inform us it inevitably will. After the fresh moo runs out, I have a few cans of sweetened condensed milk standing by for our coffee and whatever else strikes our fancy. There are laid in bottles and bottles of alcohol (for medicinal and antiseptic purposes, of course); about six pounds of chocolate and roughly three hundred jars of home-made preserves. The Squid has sufficient personal supplies of iced tea, apple juice, and chocolate chip cookies to last the duration, even if through some freak downdraft or cyclonic inversion he is trapped in his bedroom for several days, unable to make his way downstairs to the kitchen where the more conventional supplies are warehoused.
Although I have no fear of the house blowing or floating away, weighed down as it is by the Wolf (the thing has a mass equivalent to that of a small pickup truck), there is some dispute as to whether my beautiful cooker will function without electricity. Some Folks in the Know assert that it's only the electric starters that stop working, while Others assure me that the supply of gas is automatically cut off as a safety precaution. Since our power fails with some regularity up here on our hill, I am at a loss to explain why I myself am ignorant about the Truth of the Situation. I shall report on the Wolf's blackout operations in due course, but to be on the safe side I have thoroughly tested the portable shabu-shabu burner and placed it on a convenient countertop together with twelve cans of butane (roughly 24 hours' worth of high heat) ready and willing to do their bit.
In the process of readying the family for the upcoming Apocalypse, however, I have discovered that in the disaster-preparedness arena - as in so many others - gluten freedom-fighters are at a distinct disadvantage.
Take as evidence the imperative to stock the household with three days' worth of food, minimum. Easy as anything for the gluten lovers among us: sandwiches with fresh fillings for as long as they hold out, switching to peanut butter and/or Nutella on the fourth or fifth day; followed in due course by instant ramen, Kraft macaroni and cheese, and tinned soup (many cans of which contain gluten, for shame!). The Boys could live in this manner quite happily, I believe, for months and months - in fact, I believe most college students subsist on such a diet for years with few obvious ill effects.
I, of course, couldn't eat a bowl of instant ramen (not even the tasty gourmet variety from Myojo Foods in sunny Sendagaya, Shibuya-ku) if my life depended upon it. No, my backup rations (apart from the above-mentioned gin, whisky, apricot preserves, and Lindt special recipe) are Kind cranberry and almond bars (all natural! certified gluten free! dairy free! loaded with anti-oxidants! don't taste like packing material!); Heinz baked beans (my favorite under any circumstances and only available from the fancy foreign food aisle at Wegmans); and a good deal of positive thinking.
After all - it might never happen!
Next up: I emerge after the storm to survey the damage and re-boot my computer.
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