Dear Power Company,

I am writing you this letter to:

  1. Protest your inefficiency at prioritization of emergency calls.
  2. To give you a clue about our neighborhood.

Day One
Tree branch broke and downed power lines on my street. YOU, meaning the Almighty Power Company, put out an orange cone and used yellow construction tape to block off the street at the nearby cross-street.

Yes, YOU did send out all those recorded “comfort” messages by phone. Too bad I did not  bigfootcomethget them.  No power, no telephone service. We only knew what happened by one of our neighbors who lived across the street where it happened.

Day Two
I had to make a phone call and we get no cell coverage from Verizon where our home is. This meant a bit of a walk down the street to get a strong enough signal. Actually we were not able to walk – it was more like maneuvering through 3 feet of snow and ice. Something I have never had to do in my life. Something I always thought would be fun. I am an idiot.

When we came across the orange cone and yellow tape, we saw that the tree  and power lines were still in the street. This did not make us happy. So, the first call I made was to YOU and a recording answered. “If you have an emergency, like downed power lines, press one”  So I did.

My call was picked up immediately and the operator took all the information. It would seem that YOU blocked off the street but did not tell a work crew about it. I was assured that it would be taken care of ASAP.

And it was. The lines were moved over to the side of the road (as much as possible because the tree pinning them down and blocking the road was not removed).

Day Three
anditsstillsnowing  We asked our neighbor who had power (lucky bum!) to call YOU, again, and find out what the deal was. The deal was that YOU changed the status of my call to ‘resolved’. I was NOT happy about this news at all.  YOU were now dealing with a sleep deprived (someone needed to keep putting wood into the stove), barely washed (no hot water, remember?), woman who just moved all the semi-warm contents of her fridge to her ice-cold garage. “Garage: is the New Frigidaire” probably won’t catch on like the other dumb sayings have, but I can relate to this one.

It snowed all day, so that must have delayed YOU from even starting to work on our situation. Our neighbor, whom I owe cookies now, knocked on our door and told us YOU said the status for our neighborhood’s restoration was 5:45 pm – today.

YOU are in so much trouble!  Especially when the sun set and we knew we would spend another night in total darkness. Thankfully, we were able to scrounge up enough batteries to keep a camping lantern going when we needed to see.

Day Four
Being cut off from the world (no TV, phone calls, Internet, texting), was driving me mad. Unable to watch the playoff games on the weekend, I had no clue who was going to the Super Bowl. My cousins had their baby girl and I didn’t know for days!  And…I missed the Oscar Nomination announcements!  To many people it is probably easy to wait for that information. Not for me. My whole being was “chomping at the bit”  – a saying I now fully understand, BTW.

The latest ETA from YOU is noon today. Forgive me if I don’t believe it. Hubby has the fire roaring and along with 3 layers of clothing and ensconced in a “snuggy”, I am finally warm. I feel rebellious and snarky and I’m not going to move until my pout is over. Even though I have to pee.

Peeing has become a necessary evil. As you pull 4 layers down, you get a preview of the ice-cold seat awaiting you. It is 52 F in the bathroom. In spite of the warm lantern you bring in to comb your hair by.

A smart woman would take advantage of an empty fridge that is fairly warm and wash the bins and shelves. I, normally am that woman, and it could happen still, after I am finished with my pout.

Noon came and went. No surprises there. To YOUR credit we did have power in the afternoon. It was like, I imagine, getting out of jail must feel. I waited a half an hour before plugging things back into outlets, just to be safe from brownouts. I feared we would be back in the dark soon. My faith in YOU, diminished a lot.

Jodi Lea

cleanempty  BTW, my fridge is a gleaming white appliance. I hate to put food in it again. Hubby said, “It’s blinding!” and threw his arms up over his eyes. He’s such a comedian.

His humor kept me from having a severe pout. My sense of humor had left the building along with Elvis on Day Two. I, who pride myself on getting through things with my great sense of humor, am truly embarrassed.

I was humbled even further when hubby answered our first phone call.

“You’ve reached the Donner Party, please leave a message,” his huge grin was like a kid making a prank call, and that made me laugh even harder.

♥ TTFN ♥

Negative Rooting, Like Crime, Doesn’t Pay

It was a good idea at the time. Too bad it didn’t work.

If you’ve ever been here (this blog) before, you know I am a raving 49er Fan, so why did I throw a playoff game party? And even worse than that… we rooted for the Green Bay Packers. It made me feel trashy and disloyal.

Have I lost my mind?  I know, it goes against my cheese-head hating self, but the bottom line is – we didn’t want the Seahawks going to the Super Bowl. Those guys are too damn cocky. They are a helluva good team and everyone knows it. They don’t need to be cocky. But yet, they are.

It was a good plan, a good party & fun with family. I’m very happy I did not bet on that game.  Those Seahawks will be going to the super bowl again.  And there is nothing you or I can do about it.

Dirty Look
Say It Isn’t So!!

I sure was hoping that the Colts could keep ahead of the Patriots, for the game. Coach for the Patriots must have gotten his team worked up at half time. I would suspect a powerful and moving pep-talk or something, however, that’s old school now. The new school is tampering. Tampering with scholarships, favors, yada-yada. And now on the Fox News I find out someone is tampering with the balls.  Just removing some air from the footballs – enough to make the balls more supple, allegedly, this makes the throwing and receiving of the ball easier.  Of course, this completely screws the team’s place kicker & punter – because deflated balls have no lift.

Trust me on that.

What I don’t understand is – why these playoff balls aren’t kept away from both teams by the NFL.  The balls, picked out by each team, get weighed and measured by officials, then they are given to the Ball Boys (who, BTW, work for the Stadium). That is a lot of opportunity for evil forces to tamper with the balls before the game. Who “ball sits” during the game and at half-time? Do they stay with the ball boys, referees, team staff?  This Enquiring mind wants to know.

Wouldn’t there be a chance that the balls could get mixed up? And the Colts would get a flattish* ball?  Wait a minute – wasn’t there a messed up Field Goal attempt by the Colts?  Hmmm.  And why are teams allowed to manage their own balls?  Shouldn’t this be done by the NFL, to prevent just this sort of thing from happening?  Sheesh.

The Pat’s won the AFC championship and they are going to the Super Bowl. Too bad the only questions reporters are asking, have to do with what they are calling Deflate-Gate.

Personally, I am suspicious that the game balls were tested after the game. It doesn’t sound like a normal procedure to me. So… balls were inspected after the football game was over. On whose request? Someone knew something fishy was going on. Somebody tattled. Vows to “get to the bottom of this” are made. Songs are being written using “who let the air out?” in the lyrics, replacing “dogs”.

It reminds me of High School.


* flattish [flat esh]; adv. somewhat flat  [no lie, this definition is in the Webster’s Dictionary.  Hee Hee.

SF 49ers Cut the Cheese!

I’m so excited I don’t think I can sleep.  That game was so intense, scary and awesome.

To those know-it-all’s in the pre-game show:  Ha!  You don’t know diddly-squat, so shut up!













photo provided by Lourdes Placeres