I wish it was only Algore and his henchmen who were freezing to death in the dark.
Frontier Suburbanite
By webmaster@nationalreview.com (Mona Charen)
Al Gore is responsible for this. He taunted Mother Nature. Consider this her memo: Don't Presume to Know What I Have in Store.
Here in Fairfax County, we thought we were prepared. I had purchased enough milk to last our family of five for a week. We had plenty of food. As the blizzard raged Friday night, we were tucked comfortably under blankets in the family room, watching a movie and observing the snow blowing sideways past the windows. The only interruptions to our comfort were the obligatory trips to the (decreasingly visible) driveway for Cali, our ten-week-old puppy.
It was around the 3 a.m. trip that the power went out. I hadn't worried enough about that possibility. Though we often lose power due to summer storms, and occasionally if there's ice, snow has never left us dark before. But this is no ordinary storm. This is Al Gore's blizzard. My husband opened the garage door manually. We fumbled with flashlights to find Cali's leash and get her safely in and out. Then it was back under the covers until 6 a.m., by which time the house was pretty cold and Cali needed to go out again. One of the kids took this trip. The snow was about ten inches deep, but the storm showed no signs of abating.
When the ambient temperature drops below 50 degrees, door handles send a chill down the spine, and we won't speak of bathroom experiences. A warm drink can make all the difference, but our cooktop is electric, as is the oven. All was dark and inert. In good pioneer spirit, we lit a fire in the fireplace and used a stainless-steel pan to boil water. Those silicon oven mitts have never done more useful service! Pour the boiling water over the (thankfully previously ground) beans, et voilá! -- hot coffee. Slightly smoky tasting, but hot. The world is righted. Repeat procedure for the kids (yes, my teenagers drink coffee).
Our water heater uses gas, so we could at least wash our hands and faces in warm water. Unlike our less fortunate neighbors, we have county water, not well water, so the lack of electricity didn't shut down our water supply. But actually taking a shower, only to emerge into near-freezing air, didn't seem appealing. We plugged in the one corded phone we keep for such emergencies. Dominion Virginia Power estimated restoration by 11 a.m. Thinking of Sisyphus, we started shoveling. Now there were 13 or 14 inches. We helped dig out the cars stranded near our house.
At 12:30, the power jumped to life, then faltered, then came back on. Rejoice! There was a rush to power up everything we could -- laptops, cell phones, Blackberrys. You could have read by the light of the charge brigade. I threw a turkey breast and some potatoes into the oven and dashed upstairs for the shower and (bless you, Dominion Power!) the hair dryer.
As the inside temperature climbed, we noticed that our supply of firewood was getting unexpectedly low. Did you dig all around the rack? Some may have fallen and might be covered with snow. No. We were nearly out. Well, no problem. We had power. Until 4 p.m. -- we heard that sickening sound of buzzing when your computer back-up needlessly tells you what you already know. And the outside temperature was plunging into the teens. Now we had 34 inches of snow, just a few logs left, and approaching darkness.
We ate the turkey and potatoes by candlelight and played a game around the kitchen table. The mood was giddy. We had warm food, two dogs, two cats, shelter, and each other. We had to dig a path for Cali. The snow was way over her head. She thought it was grand, though. A frolic. Her golden fur wore a halo of white.
The boys slept in the family room in front of the fireplace. My husband and I slept in our room under four blankets. Only my face was cold. By the morning, it was getting harder to be cheerful. Almost out of firewood, we burned an old table that had been in the storage room. If we could get out of our street, we could go to a hotel. Oh, but not with a puppy who doesn't yet distinguish between the outside and the kitchen floor. More fireplace coffee, less fun this time.
For now, the power has returned -- but the forecast is for another eight to twelve inches starting tomorrow. A little snow is beautiful, but this is getting to be bad taste. We're grinding coffee and praying that the firewood will be delivered in the morning, as promised. Otherwise, I'm sadly eyeing the kitchen chairs. |
