Things have been nuts in LollyPopLand since the last post, and, instead of the part two that I’d intended to come next (which will wait until next time), we have this one, a saga of wind, illness, holidays, snow, and power lost and regained. I almost titled it “Power to the People,” but some folks still don’t have theirs, and that didn’t seem quite right.
So instead, it’s “The Power of Love,” which is so right on multiple levels. In some ways, Christmas was like the 1980s all over again, with Scooby Doo and Star Wars gifts running high, so Huey Lewis it is.
Quick run-down in diary/photo form:
Wednesday, Dec. 19: John and I spent the evening at the UALR Applied Arts Department Fall 2012 Open Studio. My husband, the Popster, is the star furniture-making pupil. That’s not just me bragging; everyone there told me so. You can judge by yourself from this photo of his beautiful, if undoored, liquor cabinet. (Doors to come.) His coffee table from the spring was also on exhibit.
Around midnight, John woke up violently ill with a stomach bug – and the wind was blowing like mad. (Excellent memory: When Jude was 2, he called the wind “blows” as we were sitting on his front porch on a windy evening. “It blows!” he said. “I like blows!”)
The next morning, I stumbled out of bed, turned on the coffeemaker and headed to the front door for the paper to be greeted by the tree that had stood across the street coming up our sidewalk and smashing our vehicles. Lovely.
John was too sick to participate, so I handled everything, from policemen to insurance to finding someone to replace the windshield in the Jeep that day – with a mother a couple of cities away bedridden and in pain, not to mention with Christmas days away, I had to get it done fast. The Glass Doctor did some rescheduling to save the day, and as soon as my knight in white van left, I took a phenergan and went to bed at 5 p.m.
I had the bug too. Ugh. We missed a party and the Mayan end of the world.
Sunday, Dec. 23: We’d decided this would be the perfect day to have a short Christmas at Mother’s; until her back surgery next week, she doesn’t need to sit up for more than a couple of hours at a time. The kids were great. Jude handed out gifts, since he can read the name tags. Grammy was super-excited to see all her greats. And her grands.
Christmas Eve was perfect too, if small and quiet. Cathy, Paul, John and I ate, hung out and watched most of This Is It on Blu-ray. We gave the dogs their new beds, stuffed stockings and hit the sack.
Christmas morning was wonderful, our first four-grandchilder.
After the kids moved on, John and I exchanged presents and hauled it in the freezing rain to Mother’s, where we briefly visited with the folks and sibs. Brother Paul was on call, so they high-tailed it back to LR to beat the weather. With four-wheel drive, we could linger a bit, but not for long.
We got back, nestled in on the couches to watch a movie, and just as the credits started to open, TRIPLE BOOM, and all went dark. And cold. Which is how it stayed until about 10 last night, when three trucks-ful of linemen got us up and powerful.
This morning, Saturday, Dec. 29, even our Internet and TV had returned. The snow has just about left by this evening. Things were a mess, but we’re back to what we call normal. For now. Next is getting Mother fixed and the Jeep repaired. The poor squashed truck will stay squashed. C’est la vie.
And that’s how we spent our Christmas vacation.
On a really up-note, the Mayans were wrong.