Truthfully, I was a little intimidated by Isaac.

First off, he’s a dude in an established female world. Sure, they started to add male names way back in 1979, but most of us still consider hurricanes to be largely a female gig. It’s hard to figure out a hurricane with a boy name. Sort of like meeting a giant man wearing high heels. Usually, these boys want to make a statement. Look at the mess Andrew made. Need I say more?

And who chose the name, Isaac? My sister was a teacher and she swore certain names of her students always indicated trouble. Like Devlin. I’m sure there are some sweethearts out there named Devlin, but, come on… generally speaking, the parents are asking for trouble when they pick that name. And people who name their dogs Killer or Shredder. You’d better have a T-bone ready when you meet these dogs.

Names are important. Isaac sounds safe until you dissect the name and really look at what you’ve got: I-Saaaaac! Let’s face it, a little intimidating. Personally, I believe the name Isaac should only be given to football players, not to tropical storms or hurricanes.

So, I was worried.

But, we were lucky here in the Florida Keys. Our damage was minimal considering the big picture and I’m proud of the way we all responsibly prepared for the storm. Billboards were removed, shutters were in place and supplies were restocked.

And by supplies, I’m talking food. At least, in my house. Seriously, if you need a good meal, plan on staying with the Vandelaars during a possible hurricane. We were obsessed. On the day before the storm, my husband knew I was at the grocery store for supplies, and he called to remind me to buy a turkey AND all the works. Seriously, in his mind, the only way he can live through a storm is by cooking a turkey. We all have our priorities. Mine was to buy batteries. His was to cook a turkey.

Then my girlfriend, Julie, called and said she was preparing a pork roast so we could all have pulled pork sandwiches for days. Both of them made me a little paranoid, so I pushed the gallons of water to the side of my cart and threw a giant ham next to the turkey. Worried that I might have broke the bank and didn’t want to spend another $12 on toilet paper, I convinced myself we had enough to last a couple of days and I finally checked out of Publix. In retrospect, I think I should have chosen the toilet paper over the ham. “Hind”sight.

So, the night before Isaac was due to arrive, I unpacked my groceries and faced the next problem. Storage. I didn’t have enough room in the fridge for his turkey, my ham and the three cartons of eggs I also bought in a panic. My solution? I could make my famous egg dish for the morning after the storm. And, since I was smarter than my husband, I decided to prepare everything right away, while we still had electricity and water.

Between the cooking and the additional cleaning I did (so anyone needing refuge from the hurricane would think I was an amazing woman because my house was immaculate…) I had worked my hiney off, and I was exhausted. When my husband asked if I wanted to go out for dinner, I looked at him like he was an idiot. Duh. Of course I wanted to go out.

Somehow I managed to shove all of the food I had just cooked into the packed fridge and we hopped in the car for our “last” dinner out together. Gotta say, with the threat of a hurricane looming over our heads, we were actually nice to each other and we really enjoyed hanging with friends at the dinner.

The next day, my hubby cooked his turkey and he had a system. First, he’d put up one shutter, and then he’d go to the oven and baste the turkey. Then the next shutter and, again, baste. Shutter, baste. Shutter, baste. I’m pretty sure Rachael Ray would do the same. When all of the shutters were finally in place, it was time to pull the turkey out to cool down.

So, we’ve got a pre-cooked ham sitting in the fridge, a turkey cooling, and Julie’s pulled pork waiting for us when my husband asked if I wanted to meet some friends at a fun place crazy enough to stay open in a tropical storm – Category Three, in Key Largo. I looked at him like he was an idiot.

Duh! Of course I wanted to go out. Our kids were all going stir crazy from being locked up in houses with shutters down and we had an hour to wait before dinner.

(Note: the best part of the entire storm: Category Three’s Bourbon Bacon Brownie. No lie. Delicious.)

The next morning, when I served the egg dish, my daughter looked up at me. “Wow! My favorite breakfast too? Hurricanes rock!”

She was sort of right. There is a silver lining to this hurricane gig… especially when there is NOT an actual hurricane. I cleaned our house, we treated each other with genuine kindness, we ate like kings, my daughter got out of school and we hung out with great friends at great restaurants. What more could you ask for?

I might have to name my next dog Isaac.