22 hours and counting…

We had a rare August windstorm in the Seattle area yesterday. The lights went out in my neighborhood around 1 or 1:30. Despite the daylight, the winds no doubt hampered the efforts of crews to restore electricity. When I got home from an early evening out and about, the lights were still out.

It wasn’t all bad, though. The cheap portable radio I got from Radio Shack a few years ago (after a similar outage) still had working batteries, so I got to listen to a Twilight Zone radio show by candlelight. Then, I got to bed at a reasonable hour (no Netflix to tempt me to stay up past midnight), and, in the much-darker-than-usual dark, and quieter-than-usual night, I slept very well. (I didn’t sleep any longer than usual, but that’s a minor quibble.)

The lights were still out when I got up to feed the cats, so I changed the radio station to NPR, and went back to sleep.

Still no lights when I got up at 9 a.m., so I took a very quick, lukewarm shower, and headed out in search of hot coffee and something to eat. Since I didn’t have even phone service by this point, I couldn’t check the outage map, so I headed for Third Place.

Closed. No power. The main arterial heading into Seattle was closed, so I had to go the opposite direction. Power was still out over much of that area as well, so I took the long way (really, the only way, what with streets closed by downed trees and/or power lines) to the freeway, and finally headed south, into Seattle proper, where I knew there would be plenty of places with running and hot everything.

At this point, it appears that power was briefly restored in my neighborhood, but is currently out again. But, I have had my morning coffee, done a little bit of writing, and (obviously) have both a phone signal and access to wi-fi.

Now I wait.

(30 August 2015)

A mid-May morning (a poem)

I had not particularly intended to follow today’s prompt in The Daily Poet, by Kelli Russell Agodon and Martha Silano, which is to listen to jazz or classical music, make notes of what comes to mind while you listen, then write a poem about something you thought of while listening. As it turned out, I started this poem while listening to one of Thelonious Monk’s solo recordings on Pandora…

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Sunday mornings at Grandma’s house (a poem)

Today’s prompt in The Daily Poet by Kelli Russell Agodon and Martha Silano is to write a poem that uses I remember to begin each line. I wrote such a poem a few weeks ago, but decided to give this challenge a try nonetheless. This time, I thought back to Sunday morning breakfasts at my grandparents’ house when I was a kid…

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A bunch of questions and answers for no particular reason

I recently found some lists of questions posted by people on Tumblr. I guess the idea is that the people who see the posts then choose one or more questions to ask of the person who posted them. I didn’t feel like doing that, so I just did a quick copy-and-paste into a Word document… Continue reading