One week + one day and counting…there’s a difference in our area between those who can count the hours they were without power and those that can count the days. We’re in the long-haul group.
We were pretty lucky in the no trees on our house department but we counted 14 trees down with some that will have to come down because they will eventually fall over and really piss us off. We had two that came down over our driveway thus blocking us in. You wouldn’t believe how many people asked if that was our only driveway…no, we’re the freaking Rockefeller’s of driveways—got millions of them. And, then the show-stopper stupid question as we’re standing in the driveway trying to cut our way out…did you weather the storm out at home? Dude, do you see any cars at the end of the driveway or parked on the road? Then where do you think we were? Gack, if you can’t say something intelligent then shut your yammering trap.
We hosted the MIL for 5 crazy nights and you’ve never seen two happier people when we found out her power was back on–shuttled her back over there as soon as was possible.
We’ve been pretty lucky because we have a generator. We bought it after the ice storm during Christmas 1998. My house will never be 30 degrees again. The only downside is having to baby-sit the generator and having to plan if you want hot water or a toilet flush. But, considering what other people are dealing with that’s small potatoes.
Today as we were headed to the office to restart all the equipment we saw an idiot come over the yellow line and the crane truck we were following had to swerve off the road to avoid a head-on collision. If there is one thing I complain about on a daily basis is morons who don’t stay in their lane. Anyway, as we’re watching the crane truck careen off the road I start shouting “F7ck, F7ck, F7ck” because the crane is crashing into a telephone pole so hard that he’s snapping the tops off of others and one dangles above our truck. No one was hurt and the offending driver did loop back around to face the music. It will be my fate that some torrent of potty-mouth will spew forth and my last words will be very unladylike.
Here are some storm pictures.
A Close Call 
Bye to the hammock hickories 
As my mother calls it “Salad” 
A Resiliant Spider 
A Toast to Isabel–yes that’s a Hurricane 