Thursday Thirteen #790

Some years I pick a word to be my word for the year. So far, nothing has really struck me. Here are 13 I am considering.

1. Imagine/Imagination

2. Breathe (Inhale/Exhale?)

3. Calm

4. Focus

5. Balance

6.  Achieve

7. Mindful/Mindfulness

8. Move/Movement

9. Persevere/Persist

10. Purpose

11. Dedication/Deliberate

12. Thoughtful/Thoughtfulness

13. Well/Wellness (Healthy?)

How about you? Do you have a word for the year? Or the month? Or the day?

__________________

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while, and this is my 790th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.

Too Cute To Eat

My friend T. brought me one of these for Christmas (before the power went out). It was (almost) too cute to eat.

Hard to resist the chocolate, though! Yum.

Cardinal

 

It Takes Just a Little While

Change does not happen overnight.

Not generally, anyway.

I've heard of folks who go to bed and wake up in the morning with white hair. Canities subita is the medical term for hair turning white overnight. The phenomenon is almost universally acknowledged as myth—but not entirely. There have been 84 verified instances of it happening since 1800.

My hair often looks much grayer (soft white is the term I prefer) after a cut. I accuse the beautician of using her scissors to ferret out the color and leave the gray, but the gray was already there. With each cut, my hair grows whiter. (I have a friend whose hair was totally white by the time she was 45, if not younger, so I consider myself lucky to still have my natural brownish color at all.)

Weight does not fall off in 10-pound increments. No, it comes off a half-pound at a time. Some days one may wake up and find the scale indicates one weighs two or three pounds less, but it is a change that happened over a period of days, unless one is quite ill. Even so, the most weight I've ever lost at one time is 8 pounds in a week, and that was a week of barely eating because my gallbladder was giving me a fit.

So, I could starve myself and lose 8 pounds a week. Maybe.

And then there's the world. How much has the world changed in my lifetime? And how much has it stayed the same?

The truth is the change has been minimal. Oh sure, there are advances in technology, changes in the way we raise children, a loss of morals and civility. But this has happened before, maybe just clothed in different colors.

In the past, I have spent much time reading old local newspapers. What struck me the most was the similarity of stories from the past to today. The concerns were the same: how to spend tax dollars. How to train children. How to make the most of agriculture products. How to keep private what should be public, and vice versa. Racism, sexism, money.

The only difference between then and now were the sums and the civility. The chairperson yelling in 1922 about money going toward public schools did so with decorum and manners. We've lost that, but it's taken my entire lifetime for the moral character of society to degrade itself as it does now. That's 60 years before that kind of corrupt change became more apparent. Personally, I think it's as it always has been, only now it has a megaphone in the form of social media and 24/7 television news. When we have things blaring at us constantly, we tend to feel it more, or feel that it is a more immediate change than it truly is.

That's not to say we haven't made strides of change - we have. But they have been imposed upon the external elements of society. Government edicts in the form of the Civil Rights Law, for example, or Title IX, or other legislation.

Legislation doesn't change the hearts of people. Legislation doesn't make a racist any less a racist, or a misogynist any less a woman-hater. It may make some hearts more accepting or may force the hatred to turn - as today it turns toward those who profess a difference in gender pronouns, for example. And legislation can't make attitudes such as fascism go away, nor make hearts any more open.

That takes a change that occurs over centuries. Maybe a millennium, maybe longer. It's certainly not going to change in my lifetime into anything good, particularly now when we see a return of a bent toward authoritarianism, when antisemitism is again on the rise, when dislike and disloyalty are applauded, and loyalty dismissed, unless it's loyalty to a personality.

Change takes a while. Sometimes it takes a long while, and sometimes it feels like we are changing for the worse or going backwards. In those moments, what we're really seeing is the rise of the realness of the human heart, which for better or worse, does not often lend itself to love of our fellow human beings and all of their diversity and uniqueness.

If I could snap my fingers, and like a snowy day turn the darkness of winter into something glittering and lovely, I would. If I could eat something bitter and turn my hair back to brown or make myself stop aging, I would. But none of us can do that. We cannot legislate away the calamities of the human heart.

But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try.

Sunday Stealing

Sunday Stealing

1. If you could change the ending to one movie you have seen, which one would it be, and how would you reshoot it?

A. It has always bothered me that Thelma and Louise chose to drive their car off a cliff. Instead, I would end the shot with them driving down a long, lonely road, with a sign that said "Canada" or "Mexico" on it in the distance.

2. If you were to select a food that best describes your character, what food would it be?

A. Jello. Or Timid Little Mouse Stew, which I don't think is really a thing.

3. If you could cure any disease, which would it be?

A. Cancer in all its forms.

4. If you had to describe the single worst thing a friend could do to you, what would it be?

A. Lie to me, if we're not counting something like shooting me or hitting me in the head with a rock.

5. If you could be a contestant on any game show, which would you like to be on?

A. Jeopardy! But I would never go on a game show.

6. If you could choose the music at your own funeral, what would it be, and who would play it?

A. Oh, I already have that picked out. It would be this:

7. If you had to spend all of your vacations for the rest of your life in the same place, where would you go?

A. I may as well just stay home. That's where I am all the time, anyway, and I like the mountains.

8. If you could ask God a single question, what would it be?

A. Why do good people suffer?

9. If you could eat one food in any quantity for the rest of your life with no ill effects whatsoever, what food would you choose?

A. A salad. Lots of good stuff in salads.

10. If you could have a year any place in the world, all expenses paid, where would you go?

A. Ireland, Scotland, and England.

11. If you could forever eliminate one specific type of prejudice from the earth, which would it be?

A. I don't know why we have to have any prejudices. But if I must only choose one, then I would go with sexism.

12. If you could own one painting from any collection in the world but were not allowed to sell it, which work of art would you select?

A. The Persistence of Memory, by Salvador Dali

13. If you could ask a single question of a dead relative, what would it be and of whom would you ask it?

A. I would ask my mother why she didn't want me.

14. If you had to choose the best television show ever made, which one would you pick?

A. M*A*S*H.

15. If you could write letters to only one person for the rest of your life, who would receive them?

A. I think I'd just send them out into the world without an address, and they'd end up in the dead letter office.

__________

I encourage you to visit other participants in Sunday Stealing posts and leave a comment. Cheers to all us thieves who love memes, however we come by them.

Saturday 9: What's New, Pussycat?

Saturday 9: What's New, Pussycat? (1965)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

Welcome to the first Saturday 9 of 2023.

1) In this song, Tom Jones wants to know what's new in his girl's life. Here at Saturday 9, we're concentrating on the new year. What do you hope will be new and different in your life during 2023?

A. It would be nice to feel like I could go out in public without worry. That's a hope, though, and probably not a reality. I'm not really feeling the hope right at the moment.

2) He sings that he has flowers for his special girl. Are there fresh flowers in your home right now?

A. No. I'm allergic. There is a Christmas cactus out in the garage. It never bloomed. I need to repot it.

3) He also wants to spend hours with her. What is something you'd like to spend more time doing in 2023?

A. Writing.

4) Before his music career took off, Tom Jones supported himself by selling vacuum cleaners. Could your home benefit from a once-over with a vacuum right now?

A. It could always benefit from a once-over with a vacuum. I live on a farm, my husband tracks in dirt. Plus, I live in between the two largest polluters in my county.

5) Memorabilia from Tom's 1990 world tour was available eBay and the bids went up to $599 a jacket worn by the stage crew. Have you ever bought anything at an auction (online or otherwise)?

A. I have bought things at real auctions, live auctions. But not online auctions. 

6) Tom's adult grandson, Alex, represented Wales in rifle shooting in the Commonwealth Games. Is there a sport you'd like to try, or get better at, in 2023?

A. Not really. I've never been a sporty kind of girl.

7) In 1965, when this song was popular, Tom Jones made a new friend, Elvis Presley. Tom had a meeting at Paramount Studios to discuss recording a song for a movie soundtrack and Elvis was finishing a film. It was the beginning of a friendship that would continue for the rest of Elvis' life. Did you make any new friends in 2022?

A. Only if you count new players in my video game fellowship.

8) Also in 1965, The Sound of Music premiered and became one of the most successful movies of all time. Have you seen it?

A. I've seen it many times. It's a favorite of mine, but my husband doesn't like it.

9) Random question: Were you like those shoppers we saw on TV, in line at a retailer after the holidays to exchange a gift that wasn't quite right?

A. We had to return a gift my husband gave me, as it was broken when it came out of the box. We would have exchanged it, but none were available, so we received a refund.

_______________

I encourage you to visit the posts of other participants in Saturday 9 and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however.  

Don't Wanna Smile

This is a somber day, the anniversary of the January 6 insurrection. As the January 6th Committee proved, this was a staged coup by an ousted president, who wished to maintain power and bring the USA under authoritarian rule.

It wasn't just a break-in, or a tourist visit. It was a damaging, demeaning effort to toss the U.S. Constitution into a trash can and light it afire.

It's also a somber day because the U.S. House of Representative has yet to be seated as I write this. The 118th Congress is not in session, is not doing the people's business, or overseeing all that it oversees because the Republicans, who hold a thin majority, cannot come together to vote for a Speaker of the House. Kevin McCarthy is on his 13th vote as I listen to the roll call. (My own representative, Ben Cline, apparently went to the bathroom and didn't vote yet this round, but he's been voting for McCarthy. I guess they'll get him when they go back for those they missed in the first run-through.)

It's the first time in 100 years the House did not elect a Speaker on the first try. The last time it went this many votes was back in 1851 or thereabouts.

To see this disarray in the House is disheartening. Even if McCarthy wins, and I expect he will eventually, he will be a weak Speaker. This not the way to lead. A man of integrity would have stepped aside, but I don't see too much integrity when it comes to politics.

Having spent 35 years covering local government, and being one of those persons who love history, seeing the government fail before my eyes is a bit like watching a ghoul suck out my soul. I have held the local courthouse in reverence and considered it sacred. I have walked the halls of government buildings awed that I could do so, that I didn't have to fear being challenged, that I had every right to be there, simply because I was a citizen, and not solely because I was working for a news outlet.

The law is as sacred to me as the Bible is to others. To violate the law is to break the societal contract, the one we all must live by if we are to get along. When the laws go by the wayside, so too does the Republic. We cannot live in peace if we choose to ignore the laws, no matter how moral our religious beliefs may be. I have not found the morals of religion to be strong enough to keep society in check, unless one wants to live under a strict religious rule such as the Taliban. That is not my idea of freedom, though. Those who want it have no idea what they're requesting. Looking forward is not the strong suit of those who seek those types of changes.

No, this is not a day for celebrating. This is one of those dates that will stay with me, like 9/11, or 01/28/86, when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded. Or my own wedding date, or my husband's birthday. The dates one cannot forget.

I do want to call out someone though - The Honorable Cheryl L. Johnson, Clerk of the U.S. House of Representatives. I've been watching her and her deputy clerks deal with this rowdy bunch of elected fools (which in and of itself makes me frustrated, it's not a party and that goes for both sides of the aisle), and she deserves praise and a raise.

The count for the 13th time continues . . . 

Thursday Thirteen

I don't do New Year's resolutions. But I do have some goals or wishes that I hope to manage in 2023.

1. Take a vacation. We haven't had one since 2019. That will depend on Covid and the general state of things, though.

2. Manage my health better. This encompasses everything from eating well to moving more.

3. Do the 2022 taxes. Blah.

4. Keep up with the bookkeeping better for 2023. I did better at this in 2022 than I usually do, so if I can keep that up, I'll be ok. (This is stuff for the farm and my husband's septic installation business.)

5. Declutter.

6. Learn new songs on the guitar.

7. Set aside one hour every day for writing.

8. Be present.

9. Consider finding a job.

10. Read more.

11. Play video games less.

12. Listen to music.

13. Improve my photography

__________________

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while, and this is my 789th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.

If You Wake Up

One of the leftovers from last year (and previous years) was the use of the word "woke" as some kind of belligerent belittling of people, particularly people who are "on the left," if one must use such terms to describe a group. It seems we must do that these days.

For the longest time, I did not know what the word "woke" meant. Did it mean I had my eyes open? Did it mean I understood things? Did it mean I had been to college?

Merriam-Webster defines it thusly: "Woke is now defined in this dictionary as “aware of and actively attentive to important facts and issues (especially issues of racial and social justice),” and identified as U.S. slang. It originated in African American English and gained more widespread use beginning in 2014 as part of the Black Lives Matter movement. By the end of that same decade, it was also being applied by some as a general pejorative for anyone who is or appears to be politically left-leaning."

The origin of the word goes back decades, with no one quite sure where it originated with this use.

Given that it means to be aware of facts and issues, the word "woke" could have been used to describe me for my entire life. I've always been aware of social issues, racial injustice, the ineptitudes of capitalism, and the difference in classes, culture, and religion. I may not understand them all in great depth, but I have been aware of them.

I see nothing wrong with being able to acknowledge sexism, racism, misogyny, the dire restraints of the patriarchal system, and the crushing weight of religions of all shapes and sizes upon society. These are things we all live with. Most people, I have found, do not spend time thinking about them. They don't care, for example, if women make 30 cents less than men. They were raised to think that this was normal, and they see it as normal.

For me, it's an injustice that needs to be corrected.

Things become weird when people get stuff mixed up with their emotions - or with their pocketbook. For whatever reason, gender issues trigger many people. I strongly suspect this is because almost everyone is bisexual to some degree, and people are raised via their religions to beat this aspect of themselves into submission. Allowing gender issues to become open and part of society mixes up them up because the things they were taught are being challenged.

If it hits the pocketbook, as in, "my taxes shouldn't pay for the welfare queen's kid," then it triggers a different kind of angry emotion. To this I say, let your taxes pay for the military jets that I abhor; my taxes can pay for the child and mother to have something to eat.

Why being "woke" is an insult is beyond me, but the insult comes from people I tend to perceive as not very smart in the first place, and here is where the trouble comes in.

When we start lumping folks into categories, we begin to have problems. If thinking I'm woke also means I think the "unwoke" are idiots, or vice versa, well, of course dialogue breaks down. Nobody wants to talk to an idiot, whether they're awake or not.

I can't cancel people who don't want to accept my acceptance (which is what being "woke" is - a form of acceptance), simply because they disagree with it. I can, however, object to individuals who may want to argue with me or make my life miserable because they find me disagreeable. I don't have to allow myself to be harmed.

Being "woke" is a non-starter for me. I don't see it as insult. I see it as an acknowledgement that I understand that societal problems are many, and some of them can and should be changed, corrected, fixed, or improved. The world is not stagnant, and neither is society. Change is the one constant we can always count on.

Being "woke" means I know that things are wrong in the world, and they need to be changed. 

I don't know what's so bad about that.

They Come This Close

Who needs binoculars when they look in the window?

This Was Christmas

My brother and his girlfriend came over Thursday evening. We had a cheeseball, chips, and fudge.

We exchanged gifts.

That was Christmas.

For a few hours there, I was calm and relaxed.

The decorations came down Friday. I couldn't wait for it to be over with.

Sunday Stealing

Sunday Stealing

1. What song will always remind you of last year?  Doesn't have to be a song released last year.

A. I think I'll go with this one:

2. What do you wish you would have done more of?

A. Exercise.

3. What do you wish you would have done less of?

A. Eat.

4. What was your favorite new TV program? Movie? Album/Songs? Or if you didn't pick up any new ones, what are you still watching/listening to? Any recommendations?

A. I like Three Pines on Amazon Prime. I thought Free Guy was an interesting movie. I discovered the song "1,000 years" by Christina Perri.

 

5. What did you do on your birthday and how old were you? Did you feel differently?

A. I was just older on my birthday. It didn't feel any different. 

 

6. What political or social issue stirred you the most?

A. I watched every one of the January 6th Committee hearings from start to finish.

7. Who was the most interesting new person you met?

A. I have hardly been out of my house. Maybe one of the cashiers at Food Lion is really a heroic fire witch?

8. What changed at your job?

A. I don't have a job.

9. What changed in your home?

A. We developed an issue with flies in the latter part of the year. Apparently, so did many other people in the area, according to my bug guy. Something to do with a cold snap and fly hibernation.

10. Describe how a relationship changed.

A. My relationships either stayed the same or improved.

11. Do you think you are still the same person that you were at the beginning of the year?  How so?

A. No, of course I'm not. I've got new skin cells and everything. I suspect I am more impatient than I was, and I also seem to be a raw nerve sometimes. I need to work on that.

12. Summarize the year in three words or less. Bonus points for doing it in one word. Explain.

A. FUBAR. I say this because of my husband's hip surgery, problems with finding help on the farm and in his construction work, and because of the finale of a frozen Christmas without power. There's also external forces that are FUBAR, such as a rogue SCOTUS, the war in Ukraine, shortages, inflation, the stock market, etc.

__________

I encourage you to visit other participants in Sunday Stealing posts and leave a comment. Cheers to all us thieves who love memes, however we come by them.

Happy New Year!

 

Saturday 9: The Last Song

Saturday 9: The Last Song (1972)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

 

This is the last Saturday 9 song of 2022. 

Thanks for another great year.

1) In this song, the lead singer admits he leaves the light on when he goes to sleep. Do you leave any lights on in your bedroom? Or do you prefer it completely dark?

A. We have ambient light from the air purifier and the alarm clocks. We also have motion lights in a couple of outlets, so we won't be stumbling in the dark if we get up in the night. I prefer it as dark as we can get it, though.

 

2) He sings that he can't stop wondering where his old girlfriend is. Do you know whatever happened to any of your exes?

A. I don't have that many exes, but one guy I dated in high school went into the Marines, and last I heard he was in a bad wreck that involved a fire truck. That was maybe a decade ago.

3) He says this is the last song he'll ever sing to his girl. What's the last song you sang? Where were you when you sang it?

A. Well, I listened to this one and sang along with it as I sat at my desk. Before that, I was singing Sara, by Fleetwood Mac, in the kitchen.

 

4) Edward Bear was a Canadian group who took their name from Winnie the Pooh. As written by A. A. Milne, Edward Bear was Pooh's "proper" name. Pooh's favorite food was honey. Is there a food you can't get enough of?

A. I have a sweet tooth, so I remain partial to sweets. I try not to eat chocolate because it upsets my stomach. But it is the holidays, and we had such a horrible Christmas weekend . . .

 

5) In 1972, when this song was popular, Disney's Winnie the Pooh was quite a celebrity in his own right, appearing on the cover the 1972 Sears Christmas Wish Book. That year, kids asked Santa for plush Pooh, Tigger and Eeyore. Did you have many plush toys as a child? If yes, do you still have any of them?

A. I had several. The most treasured was a stuffed blue dog that my brother and I fought over. I ended up with it; a friend fixed Blue up (repaired an ear and replaced stuffing and his eyes) and eventually I gave it to my nephew. I don't know what happened to Blue after that.

6) Enough about 1972! Let's look back on 2022. What's something you learned or rediscovered in 2022?

A. I learned that it is the people who just go do things that matter the most. It's all very well to offer the usual "call me if you need anything," condolences, but it is the person who shows up unasked to shovel your walk who makes the difference. Or the person who responds to a request in the affirmative. I am going to try to be that person more.

7) Can you think of a moment in 2022 you'd like to do over?

A. Christmas was rather nonexistent given the lack of power and freezing temperatures.

8) What are you looking forward to most in 2023?

A. I hope we can take a vacation, but we'll see. We don't have anything planned.

9) Random question: Who received the last email you sent?

A. My insurance agent. I wrote him to see if burst pipes were covered in my rental property.

 _______________

I encourage you to visit the posts of other participants in Saturday 9 and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however.  

Thursday Thirteen

These questions come from Sunday Stealing, which I missed on Christmas Day because I didn't have any electricity.

1. What did you do last year that you had not done before?

A. I honestly can't think of anything. I played new songs on the guitar, watched new shows on TV, but I didn't do anything worth mentioning.

2. Did you keep your New Year's Resolutions/goals for the year and will you make/set more for next year?  What are they? What are your new ones?

A. I didn't make any resolutions, except to read more books. I accomplished that, having read (or listened to) 70 books this year. I haven't made any resolutions for 2023, and doubt I do. Every day is a chance to start anew, after all.

3. What was the best book you read this year?  How many did you read?

A. Oops. Already said I've read 70 books. I think the best books I read were The Four Winds, by Kristin Hannah, The Giver of Stars, by JoJo Moyes, and The Book of Lost Names, by Kristin Hamel.

4. Did anyone you know die? Or have a serious illness/injury?

A. My husband's cousin died from complications from Covid. My father, stepmother, brother, his girlfriend, and my niece also had Covid. My husband had his hip replaced. My father had his knee replaced. Friends had Covid, too. Lots of people sick.

5. What places have you visited?

A. Food Lion, Kroger, and the chiropractor. Oh, a trip to Sam's Club.

6. Any new pets? Lost a pet?

A. We have 25 new cows and one old cow died.

7. What would you like to have next year that you lacked this year (doesn't have to be a physical thing i.e. love, job security, peace of mind...)? 

A. I would like to have better health, more patience, and lower blood pressure.

8. What date from last year will remain etched in your memory and why?

A. June 20. That is the date my husband had his hip replaced. It's also my mother's birthday.

9. What was your biggest achievement last year?

A. I got through it. That doesn't seem like much of an achievement, really, but it is.

10. Did you get sick or injured?

A. I have been healthier during the pandemic than at most other times in my life. I chalk that up to masking, staying home, and staying away from people.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

A. A new Kindle Fire tablet.

12. Where did most of your disposable income go (money leftover after you pay for food, medical care, basic clothing, transportation and shelter)?

A. Into the bank.

13. There isn't a 13th question, so I will just wrap this up like this: we didn't burn the house down on Wednesday when a light in the kitchen started smoking, and we don't know why one of the bathrooms now smells like a septic tank. The tenant in the rental property we own didn't heat the house during the bad freeze and the pipes burst, and I'm mighty upset about that. Things could be worse, but honestly, I need a vacation.

__________________

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while, and this is my 788th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.

How It All Went Down - Part III

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Christmas morning.

My husband rose before I did.

"Time to do it again. It's like Groundhog Day," he said as he pulled on his clothes. He was thinking of the Bill Murray movie where he is trapped on February 2 for a very long time.

I lay beneath the covers, not willing to brave the chill. I finally pulled myself out from under the covers and grabbed my robe; it was as cold as the house.

Ice had formed on the windows in the bedroom overnight; we were running a small humidifier off the generator. And the water had gathered on the windowpanes, where it froze.

I looked at myself in the mirror and ran a brush through my hair before I went to say good morning. I looked awful.

In the kitchen, I found my husband had placed a Christmas card at my place at the table. We had a breakfast of frozen pancakes heated in the microwave. 

After we ate, he went outside and gassed up the generator again while I rinsed the plates in cold water and put them in the dishwasher.

Then we had Christmas. My husband gave me an autographed photo of Melissa Etheridge and a few other things. I gave him clothes and a small George Foreman grill, because we'd tossed the huge one out a few weeks prior. He'd had a new hip and a new utility vehicle this past year; I didn't need to give him anything more.

It was over quickly, and the circumstances sapped most of the joy out of the morning. He had to bundle up again and head out to check the cattle and unfreeze the watering troughs. I cleaned up the Christmas paper, put the gifts back under the tree, and took another sponge bath at the kitchen sink.

By the time he returned, I was dressed. My chores were done. I was trying hard to find the Christmas spirit, but it was eluding me. This was stressful. This wasn't what we were supposed to be doing. I was worried about him being out in the cold and the wind, afraid he would make himself sick. He looked tired. I looked tired.

He left again, and I spent some time standing at the patio door, feeling the sun come in and offer a small respite of heat. It also brought flies, which have plagued me since November. I removed an empty water bottle from the recycling bin and began to catch the ones buzzing at the patio door - five in all.

I remembered a fairy tale from long ago called "Seven in one blow" where some guy, a tailor by trade, had killed 7 flies in one swat, and he made himself up a shirt that said Seven in One Blow. Everyone took that to mean he had killed 7 people. I think he ended up being a knight.

Nobody was going to make me a knight.

I went back to my chair and propped my feet up on a footstool. I didn't mention this before, as I forgot, but on Christmas Eve, the husband of my best friend who passed away last year brought us a footstool that he had made from the cherry tree from our back yard. I did not see him as he had simply dropped it off with my husband as he was out trying to keep the generator running.

Now I pondered the footstool. Earlier in the week, I had had a talk with my friend, wondering if there was life after death and if so, could she send me a sign that I would recognize as such. Was this my sign?

Several people texted me to wish me Merry Christmas. I texted back, trying to sound cheerful. All the while I was feeling very low.

We ate another lunch of a ham sandwich, and then my husband said he was going back out after more gasoline. By this time, we figured we were spending about $65 a day to keep the generator running. The battery for my car had cost over $200. This was becoming an expensive weekend.

My husband left, and I cleaned up the lunch mess. Then I looked at the wall where I tape the Christmas cards. I wanted to yank every one of them down and then tear the Christmas tree down and put it all away.

Just as my hand moved toward the first card, the phone rang. 

"There's a bucket truck in Lanetta's driveway!" my husband exclaimed. She is our neighbor, and the line was broken not far from her entrance.  "You need to turn everything off, throw the breakers, and turn off the generator. I'm at the gas station."

Our cousin had called him and told him the power company was here, he explained as I raced around the house turning off everything so I could throw the breakers. But which breakers? Out in the garage, faced with a barrage of cords and a breaker box that I never deal with, I had no idea what I was doing. He tried to tell me, and I started to cry.

"I don't know anything about this stuff, you have never showed me how to do this," I wailed.

Finally, I figured out which were the main breakers to turn off, and then I went outside, coatless, gloveless, and hatless, and turned off the generator. Since we were backfeeding the generator into the house circuit breakers, there is always a risk to the linemen if you leave the generator running.

The silence that came over everything when I turned off the generator was almost as deafening as the generator itself. I went back inside to sit and wait. I bundled up in a blanket and picked up a magazine.

My friend T. texted me. "We're coming over with food," she said, not giving me a choice.

She and her husband arrived while the power company was still working. She came in bearing brussels sprouts, mashed potatoes, biscuits, ham, and hot chocolate. She gave me a big hug and a kiss but didn't stay long because she had company.

I was more than touched that she took time out to bring me something to eat - I wept again after she left, partly with relief and partly just because it was that kind of day.

At 2:30 p.m., the lights came on. 

The power was restored on Christmas day.

That night, we heated up the food my friend had brought us, and we ate like a king and queen. 

It was the best meal of my life.

Christmas had come and gone, and it certainly had not been the festive event I'd anticipated. But I was loved and cared for, and safe in my house with the fellow I've been with for 39 years.

I knew who my friends were, and who cared if I froze or not. That was a great gift, wasn't it?

Next year, I will read back over this, and laugh.

-End-

How It All Went Down - Part II

Part 1 is here.

After the sponge bath, my husband and I decided we may as well go to bed. We were both worn out.

I woke about 12:30 a.m. on Christmas Eve and listened to the wind howling, again. We did not have wind like this when I was a child. But now, it's a pattern - a front comes in, the wind follows. And not just breezes, but big gulping chunks of wind that take down trees and rip up buildings.

My husband had estimated the generator would run until about 4 a.m., but I felt like he'd miscalculated, so at 1 a.m. I shook him awake and suggested we go gas the thing up.

I put on my jeans, a pair of socks, my sneakers, a light coat, and then my heavy coat. I pulled my hands inside of my coat and put a stocking hat on my head. I was to be the flashlight holder.

He put on a pair of insulated coveralls, sneakers, and a coat. He put on a stocking hat and gloves as well, and outside in the dark we went.

The wind was frigid, and the air was thick with cold. I held the flashlight so he could see to turn off the generator and then open the gas cap. Unfortunately, I could not keep my hands inside my coat and hold the flashlight, and the ends of my fingers began to freeze from exposure. I also felt it on my cheeks. It took a long time for 5 gallons of gas to empty out of that can.

By the time we were done and I could go back inside, my fingers were painful from cold. My fingers were numb and red. Warming them back up took lots of rubbing to bring the feeling back. We undressed, and then we both shivered against one another when we returned to bed. He held my hands to try to warm them, but his weren't much better even though he'd had on gloves.

Finally, we slept. We woke at 6:15 a.m., our usual normal time, and got up.

The first order of business, after breakfast, was for him to go get more gasoline. The generator was eating up about a gallon an hour, and we only had three 5-gallon cans. While my husband went after the gasoline, I put a towel down by the kitchen sink, took off my clothes, and stood there naked while I waited on a bowl of water to heat in the microwave. Then I took a sponge bath right there in the kitchen. I ended up dumping water over my head with a cup, but I didn't wash my hair.

I dried off and dressed. The hair dryer wasn't working in the bathroom - apparently it was on a circuit breaker he hadn't turned on - so I brought it in the kitchen. I hoped that having my hair dried and brushed might make me look a little better, which in turn might make me feel better. I have to say, by this time I was mighty low. It was obvious that Christmas Eve was not going to be the special day I had been anticipating.

I did my chores again, making the bed and sweeping the floors with a broom. There was little else I could do. I read the paper, checked the power company website, and looked at a few magazines. I was too anxious to concentrate on a book.

My friend T. let me know they'd also lost power, but they had invested in a whole-house generator, so they were doing fine.

My husband returned and he brought with him a pair of gloves that he'd picked up at the local farmer's co-op. He didn't want my hands to freeze again.

My father and brother called to check on us. My husband asked my brother if he had extra gas cans. When he brought them over, he came into the garage, where I waited dressed in a coat, robe, jeans, and whatever else I could find because the house was cold. He hugged me and I cried because we were going to have to miss Christmas Eve.

"We'll do it another time," he said. "It's not your fault. At least I'm seeing you on Christmas Eve."

His house makes me sneeze and have asthma attacks. It is full of taxidermy animals and he and his girlfriend have a dog. This is why we did not go over there to stay or to have Christmas. My allergies ruin everything.

By 11:45 a.m., the house was at 60 degrees. The humidity was at 25%, which added to the chill. I kept adding clothes, including a second pair of socks, to my outfit.

We ate sandwiches for lunch. My husband was in and out trying to get the generator to work up at his mother's, but it wouldn't run the heat (it was supposed to). She was going to have to stay at his sister's until the power came back on. (In the meantime, we didn't even think about the stuff in her freezer; I could have carried it outside and it would have stayed frozen, but neither of us thought to do it. I think we were just too weary to think of everything.)

My husband continued to run back and forth between his mother's house, working on her generator, and ensuring the cattle waterers were not frozen. He was working with his cousin and his nephew, because my mother-in-law's house is large, and it would have helped if they could have gotten the heat running so that not everyone was tripping over one another at my sister-in-law's.

I tried to keep my spirits up, but they were quite low. 

I noticed, though, that a few times when I turned on the hot water to wash my hands, something I was doing out of habit, that the water was warm. Weird. It should have been cold by then.

Finally, darkness fell. My husband came in and we had another meal of cold chicken and a vegetable heated in the microwave. I mentioned the hot water to him.

"Try it and see if you have hot water," he suggested.

I turned on the faucet, and after a few seconds, there was warm water! Not hot, but hot enough. I was excited. "I thought the generator wouldn't run the hot water heater!" I exclaimed.

"It won't."

My husband took a flashlight and his glasses and went out to the circuit breakers and hot water heater. All of that stuff is in a small room off the garage. The circuit breaker to the water heater was off. He took a voltage meter and for unknown reasons, there was less than 1 amp of electricity running to each of the hot water heater elements.

"That's not enough to heat the water," he said. "And I don't know where it is coming from."

I decided to see if there was enough warm water to wash the dishes. I filled the sink, and we still had warmish-hot water, so I washed the dishes that had piled up in the dishwasher.

We let it sit for another hour. "Do you want to risk a shower?" my husband said. "You haven't washed your hair since Thursday."

I agreed to give it a try, knowing that if the hot water didn't hold up, I would be drenched in freezing water. But the warm water stayed warm. My husband stood at the shower faucet, turning it off and on, and I was able to wash my hair.

It felt so good, and the shower lifted my heart a bit.

There was enough warm water for my husband to shower, as well.

"I don't know how this is happening," my husband said as he dried off.

"It's a Christmas miracle," I replied, sure that somebody somewhere knew that if I didn't have some boost to my spirits, I would fall mercilessly down to the bottom of that deep well of depression that I constantly circle around anyway.

After that, we both felt refreshed. We went to bed and set an alarm for 2:30 a.m.  My husband told me he could use the car lights to see to put gas in the generator, so while I got up with him and made sure he came back inside without any problems, I didn't have to go out in the extreme cold.

"Merry Christmas," I said to him as we crawled back to bed.

For it was Christmas Day.

To Be Continued

How It All Went Down - Part I

Before I get started, I'm afraid this may sound like whining, but that is not my intention. I'm trying to write up how this Christmas weekend went.

I know we were lucky - no one died, the cattle are fine, and we didn't get 43 inches of snow - but it was still one of the worst Christmases I've ever had. But it will definitely be memorable, and in some ways, it was possibly the best Christmas I will ever have. Who knows?

The problem was I had anticipated a great Christmas weekend. I expected Friday to bake, make a cheeseball, all of that holiday stuff that makes the house smell good and that gives the tummy the yummies.

Usually, my father and stepmother come by on Christmas Eve. Later, my brother comes over and I enjoy those visits. We've opened our presents from one another on Christmas Eve since we were small children; it's a tradition, one of the few we have, really.

Some years I have an open house and lots of people come by, though we haven't done that since the pandemic began. Then Christmas Day is generally quiet. My husband and I open presents, we visit with his mom, maybe go to my father's house.

That's what I was expecting. My father and stepmother had Covid, so I knew we wouldn't see them, but I was looking forward to time with my brother.

None of that happened, except my husband and I exchanged presents Christmas morning.

This write-up will be a long narrative. It's writing practice, really, an effort to convey how things were for us this weekend. It's just a slice of life. Feel free to critique. Or not read. Whatever.

Thursday night, December 22, the winds began to howl. Around midnight, the noise woke me. I lay listening to the sound of pinecones or small sticks hitting the siding of the house. Eventually I drifted back to sleep. When the alarms went off, the bed was warm and we snuggled a bit too long before getting up. I wasn't ready to send my husband out into those cold temperatures and that wind, but I knew he would have to care for the cattle.

I took my medication and my husband took his. He ate some sausage for breakfast. The lights blinked once. "I'm going to get a shower," I told him. 

I stepped in the shower and began to get wet.

Then the power went out.

I was drenched but not soapy. I hurried to turn off the water to preserve what was in the tank. "The power's out!" my husband helpfully yelled as I tried to find my towel in the darkness of the bathroom.

"Bring me a flashlight," I shrieked.

"What?"

He came toward the bathroom. I could hear the backup battery in my office beeping. "Turn off my computer for me," I said. I heard him plod down the hall and into my office. I realized he'd already put on his work boots and knew there would be dirt all over the hall.

He went back to the kitchen.

"Goddamn it, APCO doesn't have a customer service number in the phone book!" my husband said. He continued to mutter and rant about the power company and its unreliable service.

I dried off without a flashlight. "I'll call them, go check on the cattle and the watering troughs," I called out.

"You'd think as much as they keep raising the rates, they would have a number in the phone book!" my husband yelled back. We were shouting at one another from opposite ends of the house.

"I'll put the outage in on the app on my phone," I called back. "Or find a number in my 2012 book I have in my office."

"I bet you don't find a number, they don't want you to report an outage," he snarled.

By this time, I'd dried off and put on my clothes. My hair was wet, and I toweled it dry.

I looked in the hallway and sure enough, there was dirt. "Go feed the cattle, I'm going to have to sweep the floor," I told him. "I'll report the outage."

He left, slamming the door and cursing the power company as he went. I picked up my phone and went to the power company's website and reported the outage. Then I swept up the dirt he tracked in.

The thermometer said 9 degrees. The winds were blowing about 45 mph. I wondered how long it would take the house to cool down.

I ate a bowl of Cheerios without milk (which is how I always eat them), and then made the bed. I picked up the dirty clothes and carried them to the laundry room. I emptied the clean dishes from the dishwasher and put the dirty ones in it.

The house grew colder.

My husband returned and reported that a line was down about 100 yards from our driveway. Time to pull out the generator. This was going to be a long outage.

The portable generator is heavy, but he had brought it to the back door the day before because we had anticipated a problem.

I had to back the car out of the garage so he could have space to run extension cords. We used these to power the refrigerator, freezer, and a small space heater. After I looked at the outage map, I suspected we might be without power until the next day.

Our house is wired so that, once the mains are off, we can run the generator through the circuit breaker box. It won't run the heat, the hot water heater, the stove, or the washer and dryer, but it will run lights, the small TV, space heaters, and the microwave. It also gives us water to flush the toilets. Just not hot water.

The last time we'd ran the generator through the circuit breaker box, my husband blew up an air purifier and the electric box on one of the sofas, so I went around and unplugged everything I could before he hooked the generator up.

People were checking on us by this time, too. My brother and my friend T. texted to see if we needed anything. We were ok so far, but I asked my brother to come by to help my husband connect the generator, since he was in the area. He stopped by but we did not talk much, since they were working and doing guy things.

My husband asked me to go to Bellacinos and get hot sandwiches. I agreed and pulled on my heaviest coat. I had only a little pair of knit gloves, and no hat, though the coat had a hood. I had to sit in the car for a few minutes to let the ice that had built up on the windshield melt. Where did the ice come from? The car had been in the garage where there was some humidity, and as soon as I pulled it outside, it did a flash freeze over the windshield.

Once I could see, I drove to Daleville, dodging tree limbs and icy spots in the road as I went. At Bellacinos, I went to the restroom, hoping for soap and warm water; I had the water but not the soap and no towels. I dried my hands on my jeans, fetched our food, and went back outside for the return ride home.

The winds had diminished some, but the frigid temperatures left me wishing I had on more clothes even with the car heater going full blast. My winter attire leaves something to be desired, since I try not to go out in bad weather anymore.

After I returned home, we ate our sandwiches. My husband had tried to convince his mother to go to his sister's house, but it was nearly dark before she agreed to go. I had worried about her all day because I knew the house was cooling off. Plus, she'd probably lost all of her food in the refrigerator.

Our house was down to about 60 degrees. Cool, but tolerable. I kept walking around, moving, because it was warmer to do that than to sit under a blanket.

Dinner that night was cold chicken with a side of broccoli that I heated in the microwave.

I had no internet, and we have a very low data plan on my cellphone, which I used up by constantly checking the power company's website for updates. We were in an area with 65 people out, including my mother-in-law, my nephew, and my cousin.

My nephew also went to his mother's, so my sister-in-law had a houseful with her son, his wife, their two children, and her mother. I could only imagine what it was like over there. At least they were warm and safe.

For a while, my husband and I sat and looked at one another. I read a magazine. He talked on his cellphone to various people. He checked in on his cousin, who, like us, was staying with the house to ensure the pipes didn't freeze. They made a plan to try to hook up this tractor PTO generator to my husband's mother's house Saturday morning if the power had not returned.

Around 7 p.m., my husband decided to go to his mother's to see if she had another space heater we could use. He returned, and then needed to put gas in the generator.

"Go turn on the lights on the car so I can see what I'm doing," he said.

I went out to the car and the dashboard was lit up like a rocketship control panel, including, I noted with dismay, the battery indicator. 

The car wouldn't start, nor would the headlights burn.

"Did you not turn the car all the way off?" I asked him. "The battery is dead."

There was much cursing then that I will not repeat. My husband hopped in his truck and went to the shed to retrieve the battery charger, which he hooked to my car when he returned.

By then it was about 0 degrees, and the winds were still blowing, though not as hard. I was freezing. He was cold and angry. The battery charger indicated a cell in the battery was dead. I went inside and found a number for the local Advanced Auto Parts to see what their hours were. As I hung up, my husband said he had the car running.

"Advanced closes at 9," I said. 

"Good girl," he said, because I'd had sense enough to call.

He left then to have a new battery put in the car. I worried that the generator might run out of gas before he returned, but it didn't. 

I took off my coat, sat down, and had a good cry, one of those that alternates between laughing and crying. It was crazy, the car dying on this day, when the power was out, and absolutely nothing was going as expected. I was cold and I wanted a hot shower, which I knew I wasn't going to get. I finally hiccupped and pulled myself together.

He came back and filled the generator tank with gas.

By this time, it was about 8:30 p.m.

It had been a very long day.

And we still had to get him clean so he could get in the bed.

We are both rather fastidious people, to be farmers. We take lots of showers, change our clothes a lot, and wash our hands frequently. He had been around the hay and the cattle. He wasn't going to bed dirty.

I heated water in a glass dish in the microwave and carried it to him in the bathroom. He took what he called a whore bath, otherwise known as a sponge bath, while I ferried bowls of hot water to him from the kitchen. He then bravely put his head under the sink and washed his hair with cold water, until I returned with a bowl of hot water that I promptly dumped over his head.

Generally, I take a bath before bedtime, too, a quick jump in and out to wash the day out of my hair so that it doesn't upset my allergies and asthma, but I passed. I couldn't be but so dirty, right?

To Be Continued