By T.J. Peters
Much pressure builds
in un-forecasted acts,
stormy things like howling
winds & chubby fingers,
big red buttons that’ll
sweep you up, blow you down.
Twenty-four hour coverage
of tiny white flakes, of a giant
snowball rolling downhill, gaining
mass but never lasting
long enough to form the
base of a man. When the bomb cyclone
drops o’er new englands or
old wests, that shriek of cold bluster
wakes babes in the night either way.
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Our power is back on! It announced itself extremely loudly by setting off all the fire alarms in the buildings, which took half an hour to get the fire department to turn off, which made the cats even unhappier than the dark and the cold had done, and it took several hours to get the apartment to a livable temperature and the hot water to something tolerable even for sponge baths, during which time we threw out everything remaining in the freezer and ate the probably-still-okay bagels for lunch.
In the afternoon, we tried to go to our nearest Safeway, but their power had been out so long that their freezer and refrigerator sections had been emptied. So we went to Redmond Town Center (half open, including holiday decorations) and another Safeway. Then we came home for more laundry and dishes, plus this week's episode of Dune: Prophecy, which is quite good, and then The Merry Gentlemen, which needs more stripper energy and less small town holiday crap. Idylwood Park at present:
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