The wind is a-howlin’ tonight and it has been raining ice for most of the day…a perfect night for curling up in bed with a cup of hot tea. I spent most of the day in the kitchen, since bad weather always makes me want to cook and bake and clean. I don’t know why; it’s like I have this deep need to prepare food when the weather turns very bad.
I have a bit of a wind phobia, actually, since about 13 or 14 years ago we had a terrible windstorm that brought down a huge old cottonwood tree on our house and crushed my car, which was parked in the driveway, like a pancake. Since then I get the heebie-jeebies whenever it’s extremely windy.
“But we don’t have to worry about losing power,” I proclaimed happily to my husband earlier this evening, “because we have a generator!” One of my most favorite little perks in this house has been the generator that automatically comes on when the power goes out. It’s come on a handful of times since we’ve lived here when storms have knocked out the power, including the very first day we owned the house.
Not ten minutes later after remarking on how we don’t have to worry about losing power, the power went out. The girls started to panic, but don’t worry girls, I said cheerfully, we have a generator. And any minute now, it’ll kick on…any minute now…any minute.
Hey honey, why isn’t the generator coming on?
Five minutes later, clad in heavy boots and coats and bearing flashlights, we skidded across the icy grass over to the generator to have a look. My husband’s usual first course of action in these kinds of situations is to give the non-functioning appliance a good swearing-at. You’d be surprised how often just telling a mechanical object what a piece of shit it is will cause it to shamefacedly spring back to life.
But the generator stubbornly refused to be cowed into fixing itself by being called four-letter words. And then the electricity came back on by itself, so my husband was spared having to try to diagnose and possibly fix the potentially-broken generator in the midst of the raining ice, raging winds and pitch dark.
Only now I’m sitting in bed all anxious, listening to the wind and worrying about the power going out. Which would mean not only no lights, but no heat and no water since we have well water here.
So I’m counting my blessings instead of worrying. Care to join me?
Let’s see…if your house wasn’t blown away in a tornado or flooded out like in Texas or Missouri, well then, you’ve got something to be very grateful for! My sister and her husband live in San Antonio, and they didn’t get hit by any tornadoes, but as I’m sure you’ve heard on the news, many people in the Dallas area weren’t so lucky.
What else? Oh, it you weren’t shot in the stomach today, you’ve also got something to be grateful for!
A 39-year-old Flint man was hunting with his 25-year-old nephew from Burton, and the pair were headed out of the woods about 5:40 p.m., Kaiser said.
“Those two are walking out of the woods at night. They hear a noise. They see a glimmer of light and believe it to be the eyes of a deer,” he said of the incident police have labeled an accidental shooting. “The nephew points his gun in that direction and fires.”
The Davison man, who was archery hunting, was struck once in the abdomen with buckshot fired from a 12-gauge shotgun, Kaiser said. The man was taken to a local hospital for treatment and was listed in stable condition.
Glad he’s okay, and I know it was an accident, but they literally hammer it into your head during Hunter’s Ed to always clearly identify your target and what is beyond it before you shoot. You aren’t just supposed to say, “Hey, sumpin’ shiny!” *blam*
Well, you know, let’s enjoy a bit a cute humor to pass this dreary night, shall we? This has been around for awhile apparently, but it’s new to me. I think this might be what happens when the Youth Pastor and the high school ministry interns get a hold of the Children’s Ministry puppets. High church-basement madness…
Which reminds me of a story from when our eldest daughter was about 3 years old. One day whilst we were driving to church, she was wondering about how Jesus had told his disciples that he would eventually be crucified. Well, I said, I think he managed to communicate that to them in so many words. “But how? Like did He use puppets or something?”
My husband and I about died laughing. But it made sense; in her little world, profound Biblical truths were nearly always communicated via puppetry or felt boards.
May your night be safe and peaceful!
And now, for those puppets…