Storms and bridges--a lesson in anxiety

 

This picture of me was taken tonight by friend and neighbor Susan Halbower after we attended a dinner and concert at TCU. I post it because I am usually so un-photogenic. My grandfather once told my mom the only place he'd hang her picture was in the barn. She was a beautiful woman, but she didn't photograph well, and she passed that gene on to me. So I'm grateful to Susan for this picture.

It was 81 and sunny today, the best of all fall days. When I stepped out to get Jacob at school, I thought how pleasant it was to be comfortably warm but not hot. So why did I wake up at 5:00 this morning obsessing about sleet and freezing rain? Because by Friday the temperature is to drop 50 degrees and the weather will bring us that dreaded “wintry mix.”

When my brother lived in Colorado and we’d tell him schools were closed, he’d laugh and say, “What you got, guys? An inch?” But snow is one thing; ice is another. And North Texas gets ice.

Anxiety is pandemic. Everyone goes into anticipation mode when the weathermen (weather persons?) first mention ice, sleet and freezing rain. We talk about it for days, dread it, stock up on groceries, act as if the end of the world is coming. Yes, I’ll go to the grocery Thursday morning—my list includes a new flashlight (which I forgot on the hardware run today).

I told Jacob today that this weekend we would use the iPad sparingly (to save some battery for Juju to read) and we might have no TV and no lights. “You and I might spend a cozy time in front of the fireplace,” I told him. “Well, that sounds exciting!” When did seven-year-olds get so sarcastic?

Tomorrow I’ll bring in plants and water those I leave out heavily—most of the herbs should make it without any trouble, but the fern and plumbago I’m trying to save need to come in, as do the bright red cyclamen that Greg planted today for the front porch. He also brought four perfect small poinsettias—just what I wanted for my Christmas decorations. It’s beginning to look like the holidays around here.

Back to worrying. How will I get Jacob at three if it starts sleeting? Jordan assures me neighbors with kids at the school will help, and she’s probably right. I’ll be glad to have my grandson as company Friday and Saturday (his parents are going to a John Mayer concert in Austin). The last time I set my mind to being housebound (the storm that wasn’t), I was alone. I much prefer company! And I know that by Sunday or Monday at the latest, we’ll be moving freely about the city.

I used to know a man who said to me, “Go on. Bring that bridge right on up here.” I’m dragging that storm bridge as hard as I can. And me a kid who grew up in Chicago and lived in the “icebox corner” of Missouri. But still I feel that dread in my bones

Kaboom! A summer storm

On the way home from lunch friends and I speculated on the ten percent chance of rain and laughed at the likelihood that if it came it would only be a sprinkle. But about 4:30 there was one big kaboom! of thunder that sent me to let the dog in. Within seconds, it, as we say in Texas, came a gully washer--fierce wind, sheets of rain. I looked out and saw that my gutter was leaking--afraid it would drown the basil plant. It kept up for a good while, then gradually lessened, but with another kaboom! my electricity went. When that happens I wander the house like a lost soul--no TV, no computer, not knowing how long it would last (I remember a four-day outage after one summer storm) I didn't want to use up the battery on the iPhone or iPad. Figured I'd sit on the deck with wine and read on the iPad but it was still sprinkling at six. When Elizabeth came home I said we might as well sit and drink wine, since we can't do anything else. Just then the power came on and she asked, "Can we still drink wine?" She had cracked her car windows because of the hot day and had a soggy car.
But my daughter's house sustained much heavier damage. The tree above is in her back yard--praise be it didn't hit the house! And the worst--Jacob's basketball hoop, put up with much difficulty, blew over, effectively blocking the driveway and garage plus it will be difficult to get back up. Can't tell if it's damaged or not.
Other than that food has been the big thing on my mind. Two longtime good friends and I shared joint birthdays at lunch today. Went to Piccolo Mondo, a lovely, classy Italian place in Arlington, as we had last year, and once again I had carpaccio. Almost too pretty to eat but it was delicious.

The waiter, having seen the gifts we arrived with, asked whose birthday, and when we said all of us, he presented us with dessert--a profiterole with chocolate sauce and small scoops of whipped cream on either side. I wasn't full until I ate every bite of that, but it sure was good.
Last night, after a birthday party for Representative Lon Burnam, friends and I went to Ryan's Fine Grocery and Deli and had a fine dinner indeed. I had the cheese and charcuterie platter with three wonderful cheeses, sausage, smoked ham and a wonderful jelly for the thin crackers. They each ordered three sides and got enough food for three full meals. Lesson learned--great place for dinner if you share. They serve salmon, steaks, lamb shops, scallops, roast chicken--but the servings are so generous you need to share. And one side will do for both, though they all looked delicious.
So tonight, with no power, I had a pimiento cheese sandwich. The life of luxury is fleeting.
I am grateful for the storm but sorry for the damage it did. If it did so much at my daughter's it must have hit hard throughout the area. Jordan lives 20 minutes south of me; someone who lives 20 minutes north said she didn't get a drop. Capriciouos summer storms.

Thoughts on a power outage

Everyone should have one power outage a year. It makes you humble and renews your gratitude. The one at my house was not nearly as long or in such hot weather as folks in the D.C. area suffered through, and I felt like a wimp for whining.
Apparently our electric distributor, Oncor, had to deal with multiple outages after a brief but severe wind storm blew through Saturday afternoon. I had been napping and missed it, but when I went out around five to give the dogs fresh water (they were still napping inside) and fill the bird feeder, I noticed it was pretty windy and there were clumps of leaves scattered over the yard. When I went back inside, I wondered why the kitchen was so dark--the fluorescent soffit lights that I leave on day and night were out. Then I heard it--that stillness that only happens in a house without power. Not alarmed because I was sure it would be brief, I called the power company and was told it would be repaired by eight that night. Longer than I expected, but still okay.
I had company coming for supper, but a cold summer meal was already prepared and in the fridge. Serving it meant that we opened the fridge a lot more than I liked. And they didn't get the hot pita/feta bread I planned on making. We ate on the porch and all was well. But eight came and went. After they left, I stumbled around with a candle and/or flashlight, getting the dogs fed and inside for the night, getting my nightly toilette accomplished, and finally reading on my iPad which was mercifully charged. Not exactly happy but not miserable. I found myself conserving water (always a good thing) and then telling myself, "No, it's power, not water."
At 2 a.m. I sat up in bed and announced to the dogs, "I am officially miserable." At 7 a.m. I decided they would be cooler outside. I did the clean-up I'd ignored in the dark and packed a bag. As soon as it was a decent hour I called my daughter and asked if I could come shower and have breakfast. They were off to a swimming lesson for Jacob, but I let myself in. Thirty minutes later, when they returned, I was a new and clean person happily reading email. I stayed there until noon, playing Legos with Jacob and working on stuff on the iPad. I charged it, the phone, and, just in case, the Kindle. The power company said two o'clock.
Big thanks to Jordan, Jacob, and Christian for making me welcome, feeding me a huge brunch, and, to Jordan, for packing an ice-chest lunch for me. Things I learned: you cannot click on "Like" by an Amazon title on the iPad, nor can you share Facebook images. The iPad doesn't get Facebook or new email in a house with no power--therer is no internet connection. The phone did those things just fine.
At two o'clock, Oncor told my neighbor five o'clock and added the wounding comment, "There are only twenty-two of you." Did that make us less a priority? One square city block?
The power came on about four, and I reluctantly threw out chicken salad, curry sauce, ice cream and a few other things.My losses were not anywhere near as great as those of residents and businesses in the East. But it was still a miserable experience, and I was exhausted--from not sleeping well, from worrying about the food in the fridge and freezer, and from the tension of expecting the lights to pop on at any minute. I wandered around the house enjoying the sound of the a/c, eating a snack dinner of mostly veggies, and reading. Too tired to do any constructive work. The dogs and I slept well, and today I am grateful for a cool house with all my electronic gear working. And a bit humbled.

The power of power

This morning I woke to that absolute quiet that only a house without electricity has. None of the noises that you aren't aware of until you don't hear them--the hum of the refrigerator, the slight roar of the hot water heater, the happy sound of the alarm system clicking off. Theere's something stagnant about a house without power. It was also a dull, cloudy morning. I took care of the dogs--in and out twice for Sophie who couldn't make up her mind--and went back to bed. But I thought about all the things I could do without power--make potato salad, yoga, read the paper, check email on my phone which was forutnately charged. My big worry was the crockpot of barbecue I'd been letting cook all night--and one of the things I missed when I woke was the smell of it. Turns out the power had only been out about ten minutes--I checked with neighbors. Then it was all over the neighborhood e-mail "Buzz" about what happened: at least one car had struck the utility pole at a major intersection a block away. One story said two cars were racing--at 7:15 in the morning? Please!
I survived, cutting up celery, onion, and potatoes (pre-cooked thank goodness--I learned this trick about cooking them ahead so they're easy to peel, although some recipes call for warm potatoes to soak up the dressing). Made the dressing and dumped it all in--it's been my diet downfall the rest of the day. I love potato salad and this particular recipe--you can find it online if you search for County Line Potato Salad. I timed my trips to the refrigerator carefully--getting everything I needed at one time so I didn't open and shut a lot. Made tuna for my lunch. Opened the refrigerator and shoved everything in, including the bbq which had cooled to warm by now. Just then the power came on--The first clue was not lights but sounds--a beep from my computer, the printer waking itself up. At the same time the sun came out. I decided thanks was due to God and Oncor, more much more to the former.
I took the bbq back out of the fridge, cooked it some more, did my yoga, read the paper, and was ready to collapse. But I still had to shred the cooked meat, cook down the liquid from the crockpot and add the saved-back sauce. Got it all done and took a  long nap.
Tonight Jacob is as tired as I am. He had a baseball game followed by a b'day party. I picked up a sweaty, dirty little boy who refuses to take a shower--we'll revisit that in the morning. He turned down a trip to one of his favorite restaurants in favor of chicken nuggets and TV and is now, about 8:30, eating a peanut butter-and-honey sandwich. We'll both be early to bed tonight.