Juice

The power surprised us at about 9:30 last night. We had dug out a battery-powered radio and were sitting in the gathering gloom in companion chairs, one rocking the other easy. (You wonder who was in which, right?) Our house guests had retired for the evening-- they wanted an early start this morning-- and so we had settled down for a little companionable conversation as we caught up on the day's news.

We had spent the day out and about. First coffee and breakfast, then a trip to Target, and finally lunch and a movie. How strange it had been to go out where there was plenty of electricity and things proceeded as normal. Somehow it made me feel even more deprived, but after each excursion we returned to our home optimistically, the power will be on, it will, it will, only to be disappointed. Finally we gave up and settled in for the full pioneer package-- Sunday was only a couple of days away.

But then with as little fan fare as you could imagine, one light came on in the kitchen and there was a low collective hum from all the HVAC units in the complex as they were switching on to cool us off, and the great blackout of 2010 had ended.

Still Powerless

Another dispatch from my iPhone:

Rumors are flying around the neighborhood about when our collective
misfortune might be resolved. After being without electricity for over
24 hours, everybody just wants to know what to expect. Someone got a
report from the power company that we would be back online by 5 PM,
but that optimistic time has come and gone. An email also circulated
that power would be out in our area until Sunday. I hope not, but it's
already too late for all the food in our refrigerator. The freezer has
another 24 hours.

If it weren't for the loss of the food, this ordeal wouldn't be too
bad at all. The weather is warm, but not even close to unbearable; a
pleasant breeze is blowing gently through the house. We'll use the
grill for supper-- some steaks, corn on the cob, and tomatoes and
cucumbers from the garden. All that's missing is the jingle of the ice
cream truck.

Powerless

Sent via my iPhone:

We were at the movies this afternoon when the thunder started crashing
and the gush of pouring rain was clearly audible above the sound
track. With about 5 minutes left in the movie, the electricity flickered on
and off and then the film stopped completely, which was a first for
me-- I've never been in a theater that lost power. We followed the
emergency lighting out into the lobby where the neon lights and faux
deco sconces were blinking like a carnival ride before they too went
dark. The 30 foot plate glass windows in the front looked like they
were being sprayed with a fire hose, such was the force of the wind
and weather out there. (Later we heard that there were 70 mph gales
and two inches of rain in 30 minutes.) A theater employee announced
refunds for everyone-- another first. We waited around for fifteen
minutes or so, and when the storm let up to merely torrential, I made
a run for the car, blessing the good parking karma that put us just
three spaces in on the first row. Of course in retrospect, I wonder what
our hurry was. Downed trees and wires littered our path home. Every
restaurant and store we passed was dark, and when we got here, our
place was too, as it still is five hours later. I think it's safe to
say that the novelty has worn off.

TYTO

There's a big part of me that won't allow myself to get emotionally involved with gay rights issues. I can't bear the setbacks-- sometimes I have a hard time separating the political from the personal, and it really stings when people vote to curtail or reject my civil rights. In those situations I always expect the worst, and so far I've rarely been disappointed. (Yeah, I'm talking to you, Maine.)

Proposition 8 in CA is another good example of this. The post-election analysis showing that it was Obama supporters who pushed this gay marriage ban over the top in 2008 still makes me a little weepy. (It also underscores my distrust of the current administration; well, that and Rick Warren's invocation, not to mention the race to the top, but that's a bunch of other blog posts.)

Given all that, I was surprised by the distinct twinge of optimism I felt today when I heard of the federal court ruling overturning Prop 8. I know it's a small victory, but more than that, it's a big step toward a Supreme Court hearing on the issue and maybe even some federal resolution, so that at least I'll know, one way or the other, what the law of this land is when it comes to my family.

And now four words I never thought I'd type: Thank you Ted Olson.

She Meant Freak in a Good Way

Today is our neighbor Savannah's birthday. She's four, and one of the presents we got her was a floor puzzle of the U.S. We chose the gift out of family tradition. Our older nephews had such a puzzle when they were very young, and they loved it. In fact when he was barely three, Treat used to identify many of the pieces by name as he went along. 

I taught summer school that year for eighth graders who had failed world geography. On the last day of the term, their grandfather brought the boys by to say hello. Looking around the classroom, Treat made a beeline for the puzzles and started his routine: We live in Virginia. Here's biiiiig Texas. There's Minnesota-- Grandma Fran lives there. That's California! and so it went until he fitted the last piece in place a few minutes later. I looked up and noticed a couple of the students staring at him incredulously. I knew that they had struggled with that puzzle all summer long.

One of the girls made eye contact with me. "No offense," she said, "but your nephew is a freak."

The Ant's Tale

The girls called their parents tonight to fill them in on all the fun we've had in the last 36 hours. It's always interesting to hear a shared experience described by another person in the group. For example, today we went hiking on the bluffs at Great Falls National Park. It was a lovely day, especially for August: a little overcast and therefore not too hot. Although the clouds threatened, the rain held off, which was good for us. The park was not too crowded, so most of the time we had the trails and the rocks and the river to ourselves.

It's our habit to pack lunch and pick a place with a nice view to stop for a picnic, and today the girls chose a spot high above Mather Gorge to eat. The river was super low, and a light breeze kept most of the bugs away. There were a couple of industrious ants on the rocks where we sat, though, and as we packed up to continue on our way, we noticed that one of them had found an awfully big crumb and was struggling to carry it off. As she zigged and zagged staggering beneath the weight of her delicious morsel, I amused myself by narrating her progress in first person. No worries girls, I got this... whoa, oops, ta da! I meant to do that! and so on, I channeled her chatter, ant to aunt, until we walked on, leaving her story unfinished.

In the rest of the hiking, swimming, cooking, singing, dancing, and game playing that completed our day, that moment was lost to me until I heard Delaney giggling on the phone with her parents about it, and then I laughed a little, too, and hoped that the ant made it home with her treasure.

Back to Bedrock

A few years ago I got the first three seasons of The Flintstones on DVD for my birthday. I wanted it out of pure nostalgia-- as a child growing up in the sixties and early seventies I spent countless hours with Fred, Barney, Wilma, Betty, Pebbles, Bam Bam, and even Kazoo. Every day after school we watched The Flintstones, I Love Lucy, Speed Racer, and/or Gilligan's Island, and every episode was like a neighborhood friend-- one line of dialog would let you know that it was the one about the boy scout jamboree, the seaweed fricasee, the Twitch, the mink coats, whatever.

Soon after they arrived today, the girls had their first disagreement. It was about which of our DVDs they might watch first. six-year-old Delaney wanted James and the Giant Peach, but ten-year-old Allyn favored Mulan. In an attempt to mediate, I tried the winner-take-all approach of holding their selections behind my back and having them pick right or left, but they wanted more of a compromise or even a consensus, so we took a broader look at their choices. Somehow, they agreed upon The Flintstones. At first they thought it was the live action film of a few years ago, but even when they understood that misconception, they were okay with watching a few episodes of the original series although (or because?) neither had ever seen it.

Know what? They love it. We are totally going to have a yabba dabba doo week.