Blizzard-Palooza 2009
It is, at the moment of this writing, 8:48pm on Wednesday January 28, 2009. I'm sitting in my car, charging my cell phone, and warming my feet. About twenty minutes ago two flashes of lightning accompanied by ozone flavored Pops! signalled the return of power to my neighborhood. Not so much to my house: the lines connecting me to the grid are beneath a pine tree that is also blocking my driveway. Official word is it's going to take seven to ten days to get everyone hooked back up, and my troubles are considered a low priority. It's going down to at least 17 degrees tonight and 12 on Friday. I just opened a big bottle of lambic kriek. The absinthe didn't do any good, so why not beer?
There was just another lightning strike though it's not clear from which direction. I keep hoping to see a truck with yellow rave lights come around the line of my garage, but so far it's just been the tentative electrically-blessed.
I heard the tree go down last night. I thought it was ice sloughing off my roof, but in retrospect it was the tree. I'll post pics when I return to the Internet en force. (Connectivity for my phone returned with my neighborhood's heaters and refrigerating abilities.)
Another six minutes, another flash. The kriek is too sweet. Three more flashes in rapid succession like a helicopter is hovering, but there's nothing out there but ice and cold and gray. Seriously, it tastes like cough syrup tonight, bitter and thick.
Nefret, my great dane, is afraid. It's dark and it's cold, and, well, she's a great dane. The cats cling to me like the furnace I am and take it all in stride. (Another flash, this one an illumation for a full second, and the power around me flickered once when it went out.)
A fire truck just pulled up in front of my house and its lights do not disappoint. It's 9:09. They're armed with axes, flashlights, a cherrypicker, and plenty of mincing walks. The ice makes the trees flash and spark like a Xmas seizure nightmare.
Yup. They just backed onto the side street and turned around and left.
So the cats are taking it all in stride and Nefret is having thrombos, but the one I'm actually worried about is my turtle, Herschel. Hopefully he'll just go into a type of hibernation, but I really don't know much about red eared sliders. I have hope.
This is still Day 1.
~B
An Affected Post Script (because, for God's sake, this is digital, after all): I just met my neighbor across the street, Jack. He saw me in my car and offered to help me get out of my driveway if I needed it. Apparently somebody came along four hours ago with a chainsaw and cut the offending branches from The Tree and freed the wires. I told him my plan was to drag it to the side with my Explorer and a chain tomorrow, but when I ended up in a tree myself I'd come over and request assistance. He also offered me the use of his guest bed as he's had the wood stove going all day. I like Jack. I thanked him and said I'd be staying with my pile of cats and my dog for the time being, but with temperatures dipping down to 12 on Friday night, he might get a knock on the door.
It is, at the moment of this writing, 8:48pm on Wednesday January 28, 2009. I'm sitting in my car, charging my cell phone, and warming my feet. About twenty minutes ago two flashes of lightning accompanied by ozone flavored Pops! signalled the return of power to my neighborhood. Not so much to my house: the lines connecting me to the grid are beneath a pine tree that is also blocking my driveway. Official word is it's going to take seven to ten days to get everyone hooked back up, and my troubles are considered a low priority. It's going down to at least 17 degrees tonight and 12 on Friday. I just opened a big bottle of lambic kriek. The absinthe didn't do any good, so why not beer?
There was just another lightning strike though it's not clear from which direction. I keep hoping to see a truck with yellow rave lights come around the line of my garage, but so far it's just been the tentative electrically-blessed.
I heard the tree go down last night. I thought it was ice sloughing off my roof, but in retrospect it was the tree. I'll post pics when I return to the Internet en force. (Connectivity for my phone returned with my neighborhood's heaters and refrigerating abilities.)
Another six minutes, another flash. The kriek is too sweet. Three more flashes in rapid succession like a helicopter is hovering, but there's nothing out there but ice and cold and gray. Seriously, it tastes like cough syrup tonight, bitter and thick.
Nefret, my great dane, is afraid. It's dark and it's cold, and, well, she's a great dane. The cats cling to me like the furnace I am and take it all in stride. (Another flash, this one an illumation for a full second, and the power around me flickered once when it went out.)
A fire truck just pulled up in front of my house and its lights do not disappoint. It's 9:09. They're armed with axes, flashlights, a cherrypicker, and plenty of mincing walks. The ice makes the trees flash and spark like a Xmas seizure nightmare.
Yup. They just backed onto the side street and turned around and left.
So the cats are taking it all in stride and Nefret is having thrombos, but the one I'm actually worried about is my turtle, Herschel. Hopefully he'll just go into a type of hibernation, but I really don't know much about red eared sliders. I have hope.
This is still Day 1.
~B
An Affected Post Script (because, for God's sake, this is digital, after all): I just met my neighbor across the street, Jack. He saw me in my car and offered to help me get out of my driveway if I needed it. Apparently somebody came along four hours ago with a chainsaw and cut the offending branches from The Tree and freed the wires. I told him my plan was to drag it to the side with my Explorer and a chain tomorrow, but when I ended up in a tree myself I'd come over and request assistance. He also offered me the use of his guest bed as he's had the wood stove going all day. I like Jack. I thanked him and said I'd be staying with my pile of cats and my dog for the time being, but with temperatures dipping down to 12 on Friday night, he might get a knock on the door.