We had a very important party to attend this past Saturday night. Hurricane or not, we were headed towards the Pennsylvania line with housewarming gift and costumes in our trunk. We’d even booked a room at a hotel. So despite the impending doom of Frankenstorm, off we zoomed, even as we realized we didn’t have the actual house address with us.
It was a gorgeous day to drive westward toward the hills and pastures of Westminster, MD and Hanover, PA. It makes my heart sing to see the undulating green of pasture grass meeting the autumnal colors of the tree lines beyond. Stunning vistas revealing themselves over and over as we drove onward.
Our host and hostess and host junior were all in costume when we arrived in our costumes, having donned them at our hotel room. My son wanted to be a skeleton and I themed it up into a Day of the Dead skeleton and followed suit with the face makeup myself.
We enjoyed catching up by the fire pit while our son ran around like a crazy boy pounding on the piano and bowling loudly with plastic pumpkin pails.
Returning home the following day, Sunday, it was overcast but still so pretty. As we hit the Eastern Shore, the exodus off the Rock coming at us was alarming. We assumed everyone had come down to batten down their beach house hatches. I grabbed some electric candles at the K-mart, since the shelves were barren of the real deal, and we drove into the nasty looking storm bank.
The worst was to come the same day. I’d put everything away and was preparing to make chicken stock. I’d pulled all assorted chicken carcasses from the freezer and fetched the big pot from the basement. It was all on the stove covered with water and I went to turn on the burner and nothing. I wasn’t quite getting what was happening, called the husband, tried to light it with a glicker, and realized the truth.
I had run out of propane gas.
I went in to tell my husband, and as he cracked a smile, I began to bawl telling him it wasn’t funny. I’d thought of ordering more and never done so. And now the storm of the century was coming.I ran upstairs to continue crying while he said he’d make a call. Darned if our Gray’s Gas people didn’t have their man out to our house in an hour. Ok so we’ll be paying Extra for it. But the guy was so cute, I almost started crying again in gratitude. Because if our power had gone out for multiple days, that gas stove top would have been my saving grace.
I had my kid draw Halloween pictures for my votives to hide the electric part. And I made homemade rolls that I proceeded to overcook because I sat down to lose myself in Facebook for a while. Darn you Dig and your posting of our cute third grade class picture. But in the end, they were still edible. And I cooked three more meals on Monday as the winds roared outside. I did all the laundry and cleaned the house. We watched family movies and all got great sleep.
I never once looked at the news. I heard a little traffic from my favorite radio station out of Philadelphia. I knew when the NJ turnpike shutdown. And my husband checked up on the storm’s progress occasionally. But our basement stayed dry because the winds were from the West. Even the dying tree in the backyard didn’t give up any limbs. Yet. Yup, I was cooking with gas.