Just Monday afternoon I was rhapsodizing about the loveliness of snow, the cozy cocoa and warm blanket and good book. All of that romantic winter feeling lasted until 5:00 pm when the lights went out.
It is now 11:00 am on Wednesday. It's 46 degrees in the house, even with a blazing fire in the wood stove. There are two warm places in the house--one foot in front of the wood stove or in bed with the flannel sheets and two quilts on top of the fleece blanket pulled up over our heads. It also feels good to wash dishes. Thank heavens for a gas-powered water heater.
No television, no radio, lanterns after 4:30 and the fancy generator is refusing to generate. We've been entertaining ourselves listening to police and fire calls on the battery operated scanner. My husband keeps asking, "How could the pioneers STAND it??? What did they do when it got DARK???" He's not buying it but we are so much better off than the "pioneers"--we have flashlights and 4-wheel drive vehicles to take us to a lighted place if we really want to go get warm.
It's Thanksgiving tomorrow. I was supposed to make a pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce. I was able to grate and squeeze the oranges and cook up the cranberries on the top of the gas stove, but the pie may or may not happen, depending on when the power is returned to us. I put some Gran Marnier in the cranberries and admit to tippling a little as I cooked. I figure the more alcohol, the better. I know our hostess is also still without power and probably most of her guests will have tales of snow, cold and wind. Our hostess is a psychologist who says the jollity factor will be higher because of the tension during the last few days. I don't know about that--I just want my hands, feet and nose to warm up!
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