Monday, January 7, 2008

Raining elephants and emus

Starting Friday, we had some major storms. Storms that were so powerful that the rain went sideways, and the wind that blew so hard that it sounded like someone was shaking the door.

Then the power went out. I had laptop battery left, so I waxed poetic about the calming power of the sounds of the rain, typing by candlelight, assuming that power would be restored within hours.


Ambient, isn’t it?

Andrew came home to help me with some of the things that the storm had knocked over (Colleen’s tent, the outside chairs, a few of the dyeing buckets), and also to stand watch until the power came back. I went over to Purlescence, where I got a machine knitting lesson, and waited for the phone call that said “Power is back, come on home.”

After my lesson with Sandi, I was thrilled that I could use the knitting machine that has been sitting in it’s box since my 18th birthday (ahem, in 2000). I was also thrilled to have checked off one of the seven goals that I set for myself this year. I called home, no power. No big, right?

I dawdled knit at Purlescence a little longer, picked up some takeout for dinner, and headed home. The neighbors across the street had power; it would be no time before we had power, right?

It looked very romantic; candles, the oil lamp, and the fireplace keeping the living room lit. Until I settled down and realized that the heater wasn’t working. Being cold makes me unpleasant.

Sam came and dog-sat while we went to see Daniel Tosh.

“Text me when the power comes on,” I told Sam.

Daniel Tosh was hilarious (I’ll post about that later), but alas, no text was received. My power of denial is strong.

“I’m sure the power will come on in the middle of the night,” I say confidently.

The next morning, I called PG&E, and every six hours after that, I called PG&E. Until today.

That’s four days without power. Four days of heat coming solely from the fireplace, light coming only from the candles that we cannibalized out of the bathroom. (Sorry, Mom. Desperate times, you know.)

It was at this point where I decided that I did not EVER want to be on one of those pioneer shows.

Screw roughing it. I like heat and electricity.


  1. Crap. You should have called and come hung out with us! We only lost it for 7 hours (Friday) during which I knit with a flashlight strapped to my head.

    Wish I'd known - I totally would have dragged you over here for heat and light. And hot water.

  2. Gee, you could have come over here - we only lost power on Thursday for a bit. We had power all weekend! Did Mom have power across the street? Oh wait, is she back yet?


If you'd like me to respond, please make sure to put your email address in the field. :)