Waitin' For the Light to Shine

I have lived in the darkness for so long, I am waitin' for the light to shine...

Hello y'all out in electricity land. MaryT here with the Frontier report. It's now day 6 of not being electrified and patience is wearing mighty thin. Yes, I am aware of the irony of my blog post in which I was underwhelmed by the hurricane. Ha ha ha. Okay, now that that's all out of our systems, let's return to the issue at hand: cold showers. Last night, the Chay family very kindly invited us over for a luxurious evening of hot showers and quality television programming. We had such a wonderful time and all with great friends and great hospitality, but I wonder if even if we had just sat around in lighted areas if we would have been equally impressed. It's a possibility.

The problem, as I see it, is not that we don't have electricity. Wait...what? Yes. The problem is that everyone else DOES seem to have it. According to the paper, 20,000 people in Nacogdoches did not have power on Monday. By this morning, only a very lucky 1500 like us were sans lights. There's very little solidarity remaining as many people, including one set of very lucky next door neighbors (who in a highly buttface move came over to gloat two days ago!), have returned inside to enjoy such things as cooking in their kitchens, automated dishwashing, hot showers, and cable television while we continue to percolate our breakfast on a camp stove. We do love campfire coffee and all, it's true, but it doesn't do at all when you're expected to be at work/school on time with all the other electrified people. It's not like the Wilders were always getting pestered by the Olsens coming over and being like "Man, surfing the internet is the best! As is partaking of netflix!" No, the Olsens weren't nice, but they at least also had to wear prairie dresses and milk cows, too. So to keep up with the Olsens, we have been eating out a bunch, playing a lot of Rummikub, and generally walking around our house at night like so many spelunkers wearing miner flashlights on our heads. That's the best we can do.

But there are lights at the end of this tunnel, friends! Earlier today, Matt spotted a power company truck at the end of our street, finally paying attention to the jumble of wires akimbo which may lead to our electrification. Woot to that.

Also, on an unrelated note, I have re-considered my stance on Sarah Palin, or rather, my stance on voting for Jesus if he were running at the top of a ticket with her on it. I probably would vote for Jesus, as I like him a bunch. This is especially because even if someone tried to assassinate him and make evil SP the Pres, he would just come back from the dead to keep her out of the oval office. Also, Jesus would never choose SP as a running mate. He is too compassionate. Therefore, I wholeheartedly endorse Christ/Magdalene '08 and half-heartedly endorse Christ/Palin '0-never. Thank you.

Frontier House, Day 4

I should have posted yesterday when I was still all sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows about Hurricane Ike. Or at least I was all about the silver lining. I mean sure, we lost power, but at least we didn't get giant pine trees through our roof or crushing our persons, and we had potable water and a fun electricity party chez Chay. It was even a bit like camping with more comfortable sleeping arrangements at home, drinking percolator coffee off our camp stove and hanging out with neighbors and friends playing cards and board games. Neighbors were helping neighbors pick up yards and discussing their power-less innovations. The weather even cooperated and left us with breezy afternoons and clear blue skies to perform our clean up. We even got a chance to clean out our refrigerator of unneeded items. Yep, Ike was pretty merciful to us.

But now, I have to admit that while I'm still grateful for my intactness and running water, this Frontier House way of life is starting to become a bit annoying. For one thing: cold showers. For another thing: our favorite campfire recipes are wearing thin. You can only eat so much chili mac, namsayn? Also, some neighbors across the way have a generator that is so noisy that the rest of us saps with our non-microwavin', windows-open-at-night-sleepin', flashlight-and-candle-usin' selves are considering mutiny. These same people have also been zipping around the neighborhood non-stop at breakneck speeds in a go-cart. The general neighbor consensus of these people is that we hate them.

The hardest part though is perhaps interacting in a non-frontier world while still living on the frontier. Most of Nacogdoches now has power back, so I am in my office in ur internetz and wearing business clothes. But my frontier self is dying for a hot shower, regular phone service, some relaxed internet shopping, and a meal from something other than a can or between two slices of bread. Not to mention that I'm slightly tired of Texas Hold 'Em and more offensively named poker games.

What of other entertainment though? Jo inquired whether someone has been playing at the piano forte or reading aloud in the evenings to keep us entertained, but alas--no. There has been none of the stripping of hairbrushes to stuff our fancy hairstyles, just some reading by candlelight followed by a strong urge to go to bed at 9:30. And surprisingly, this does not lead us to get up at daybreak (despite an insistent rooster*). No, life on the frontier is a sleepy one in which we are exhausted, likely from all the cow milking and butter churning.

Green acres, we are there!

*The most bitter pill on the frontier has been a wretched rooster, which is in the modern day form of a possessed iHome alarm clock. Despite our best efforts, removing the battery from this evil invention, we cannot make this alarm stop going off every ten minutes for an hour beginning at 6 a.m. The buttons do not register with this beast. The "wake to radio" apparently no longer applies. No, instead a sonorous blaring arouses us from our frontier dreams and reminds us that we're facing another day of handwashing dishes and canned goods. If it comes to it, I will use a gun to turn this thing off (or ask Matt to--let's be realistic). iHome, you've been warned.

Some Have Canned Goods Thrust Upon Them

I appear to be the only one under-reacting to this Hurricane Ike business. Perhaps it's because before the Great Katrina and Rita Debacles of ought five, no one this far inland EVER worried about hurricanes and I am stuck in the ways of the olde country. Or maybe I'm still feeling smug about Gustav, the recent half inch of gentle rain that misted East Texas, during which there was nary a can of tuna to be found in this town. It might even be that I am busy with worry over less fantastic but nonetheless pressing matters, like my coming board meeting and the 56 boxes of maps (49 pounds each) sitting in my office that will, at some point next week need to moved. They are here, by the way, because of Ike. In fact, Ike is throwing all kinds of monkey wrenches into my plans. So probably the number one reason I'm under-reacting to Ike is that I am already put off enough by the inconvenience it's caused me to have room left over for blind panic.

Husby, however, thinks I am being most unwise and somehow bossed me into going to Kroger last night, where every checkout line was overcome with people buying cartloads of the most vile, hermetically-sealed items they could hoarde. The entire water aisle was completely ravaged and stray plastic scraps bearing portions of the words "Ozarka" and "the same as your tap water" littered the floor. Outside, trouble was brewing at the pump. Lines were formed late into the night and I heard tell of an Ike-induced brawl at the Kroger station. Is it wrong to see hilarity in this humanity? Probably. Yet I remain smug and unconcerned. After all, we have our tuna fish and other apocalypse sustenance. If a tree falls on our house and I make it through, what can one do but pour another glass of wine? As for me and mine, we don't like Ike so hot, but we'd vote for him if he were on any ticket in opposition to Sarah Palin.

By the way, did I mention that if Jesus Christ were running at the top of the ticket with Sarah Palin, I *still* couldn't bring myself to vote for them? Yeah, that's how I feel about her. Now go forth and hunker down, as you're instructed by the panic-crazed media!

Governor, You're No Hillary Clinton

Yes, I am the 30 bazillionth blogger to join in the tirade against Sarah Palin this morning and I loathe that I am giving her more publicity. However, I cannot, for my own peace of mind, let her absurdity go unchallenged.

In the words of RFK: Every time we turn our heads the other way when we see the law flouted, when we tolerate what we know to be wrong, when we close our eyes and ears to the corrupt because we are too busy or too frightened, when we fail to speak up and speak out, we strike a blow against freedom and decency and justice.

Becuase I care greatly for decency and justice, I will begin with her most outlandish claim that, as a hockey mom, there is no more difference between her and any given pit bull than lipstick.

Look at this face, plz.


I could see how you could confuse this face with the one that launched a thousand ships, but HARDLY with one who yells obscenities at sports officials or supports ideologies that COMPLETELY undermine feminism--even if you added a million layers of cheap lipstick (which I am sure Pens would be happy to do with photoshop if I made the request).

Defense of my adorable love bug of a dog aside, let me now also address this desperate attempt on the part of Republicans to suddenly be "diverse," and wrangle in all of Hillary's staunchest supporters in with the common vagina denominator.

How about no?

It's so flattering that McCain's campaign thinks so much of women that they expect all one-time Hillary supporters to connect the dots vagina to vagina and completely ignore any, I don't know, LEGITIMATE reasons that we supported her. Like, let's just say for example: common ideologies, her political savvy, her class act. Yes, let me just throw all that out the window because it matters more to me the anatomy of someone in an otherwise bleak administration. Thanks for your confidence in the feeble mind of "the gentler sex," McCain peops! Now, what was this about Palin being a feminist?

Maybe it's her feminist stance on a woman's right to choose that would confuse a person. After all, most women want and need to be told how to make decisions about THEIR bodies. Okay, I know--maybe it's her progressive ideas about sex education that makes her a feminist. It is not at ALL ironic that her advocacy of abstinence-only education has landed her own teenage daughter pregnant and GASP! out of wedlock. No, no. These are private family problems in which the government and politics have no right to interfere! Wait--huh?!

Sorry, sometimes I just get carried away with FACTS. And speaking of facts, check out the fact checker on SP's speech last night.

Get yer facts, here y'all!

Yes, that is the sound of a smackdown that you hear.

Conclusion: Molly the Dog for Vice President!