After five days of cold showers, grilled food, and the continuous rumble of generators,  at 8:27 pm last night, there was.

Craig and I were so excited we were high-fiving like we won the Super Bowl.  Imagine, two grown folks skipping (yes, we skipped) through the house, turning on lights and flipping switches just because we wanted to see the lights comes on.

Oh, little blog, how I’ve missed you.
Oh, Electricity, you fickle mistress, I promise never to take you for granted again.

What a week this has been! First the earthquake, and now, Irene is steadily making her way up the east coast, threatening to wreak havoc on the shoreline, homes and the general state of lackadaisicalness that comes with the end of summer.

We’ve lived through our share of hurricanes, no’r easters, and even previous Richmond earthquake. We watched Katrina ravage Louisiana. We watched Haiti and Japan get hammered.  We even rode out one storm on a cruise ship after (Gabriel? Gabrielle? Gaston!) decided man-handle Florida a bit, tacking on an extra day or two of us floating at sea.

Since then, I’ve often said to Craig, “We should have an emergency kit,” to which he agrees and then we both go about the business of doing whatever it was we were doing the moment before I opened my mouth.

I got my recent issue of Parents magazine last week and there was an article in it about — you guessed it — emergency preparedness kits.  I ripped it out, waved it under Craig’s nose and said, “We need to to this!” and he agreed.  And then we both got on our laptops, him working on his Fantasy Football league, and me, trolling through Pinterest, the silence punctuated with the occasional “Oooh” from my end of the couch and a “C’mon man!” from his.

After the earthquake, I doubled my resolve to get the kit together and went as far as to make a list of what to put in.  Craig agreed, yet again, and we planned to start putting things together this week-end.  Irene decided to become more than just a tropical storm, subtly pressuring us to put up or shut up as far as supplies go.

This morning, I went out, just like every other over-zealous storm-a-phobe and stocked up.  I don’t have everything on my list — Wal-Mart looked like it had been pillaged and burned — but I made a sizeable dent. There’s gas in the car, and let me tell you, navigating around anxious drivers on cell phones while trying to wheedle their giant Suburbans and Yukons into a grocery store gas station does not make for a fun time.

I got home in one piece. I unloaded the groceries, the precious batteries and waterproof matches, the propane tank, all of these things, while my stomach rumbled with hunger.

All of a sudden I was just struck with how fortunate I am.  I live in a place where there are weather alert systems tracking and broadcasting the path of the storm. I live in a place where I can just get in my car — I have a car! — and go to the store to pick up what I need to keep my family safe and well.  I have a home that’s sturdy and comfortable. There is food in my fridge so that when my “tummy is so grumbly” (to quote Coever), I can just pluck out something good. I don’t have to worry about where did it come from? How fresh is it? Is there enough for everyone?

My mind scrolled through the images I had seen from the news networks coverage of various storms and tragedies past.  I was struck at the juxtaposition of where I was — safely ensconced in my kitchen/livingroom/far away from where it was.  Talk about an eye opener.

So, as people prepare to batten down their hatches for whatever may come, I’ll be doing the same.  If Irene decides to slap us around a bit or totally pummel us, we’re ready.  And if it happens to just be some rain storms or nothing at all, I’m not going to complain that I was ready for nothing.  What a waste of energy and why wish for a tragedy?  I’ve got my supplies, thankful that I was able to get them, even, but I really hope I don’t have to use them.

Whatever type of weather you get, wherever you are, be safe and be thankful.