60 Hours, Day Three

Monday, October 31: first thing I did was check the water level in the basement. Sunday morning it was two inches. Now it was four inches and rising along with our anxiety level. Nothing we could do since our electricity-driven sump pump was not working.

We had been nursing our remaining hot water for two full days so we thought we'd try showering. Two quick showers and that was the end of the hot water.

Earlier, town work crews came through and pushed fallen tree limbs out of the street and onto our lawns. It was the first time we could venture safely out of the driveway.

Now able to move about, I went shopping for ice to salvage what we could of our perishables. The first shopping area I went to was closed. No power. Ditto my doctor's offices elsewhere in the neighborhood (I needed a copy of a report; not an emergency).

Forewarned, I called ahead to my car dealer two towns over to see if they could fix my auto's remote control. They were open for business and fixed the remote quickly. As it happened, I was near the supermarket we normally frequent so I buzzed over there to find they, too, were closed for lack of power.

Came home and reviewed our options. We needed that ice to keep the freezer chilled and save any foodstuffs that needed refrigeration. A Foodtown supermarket in Cedar Grove, one town over, had not lost power and they had ice. We bought three bags.

We have friends in Cedar Grove who also had power as well as a huge tree in front of their house, blocking their driveway and front door. We offered to share our “threatened” flank steak with them in exchange for dinner and a few hours of warmth. To get there, we walked through snow-covered grass to their back door. Greeted by Max, their friendly, rather large mixed- breed-mostly-shepherd dog.

Our gracious hosts had another “powerless” couple seeking refuge with them so the six of us had delicious grilled flank steak. Our hosts provided the trimmings along with a welcome glass of wine.

After warming up for a couple of hours we went home to another night in a dark and cold house, where a bag of 150 pieces of candy sat waiting for the trick-or-treaters who were canceled by Mother Nature's freak Halloween snow storm.

If you think this story is endless, think how we felt living it.

(To be continued, really)

60 Hours, Day Two

Sunday, October 30, dawned cold and clear. Mostly cold since we still had no electricity and thus no heat or hot water. We found Rosanne huddled in the corner of our den closest to the gas-fired space heater, the only source of warmth in the house.

Ira soon joined us for a breakfast of stove-top-cooked oatmeal and cold cereal. Much to my surprise our New York Times was delivered despite the storm. Reading the paper would help pass the time since there wasn't much else to do.

Whenever you lose power, one of the first things you think about is saving the food in the refrigerator and freezer. We had just bought meat for hamburgers and a flank steak, all of which were in the freezer.

I couldn't get to my patio grill because a large tree limb had fallen diagonally in front of it. So we cooked four hamburgers in a large frying pan on the stove. They weren’t the greatest but no one complained. We decided we could save the flank steak for at least one more day.

Rosanne and Ira made a quick trip to their house down the block but were back soon because they had no source of warmth at all. Ira came back with a load of magazines which he read while I spent the afternoon with The Times. It was the first time in a long time I actually read the Sunday paper on Sunday.

Enough was enough, we agreed. Let's go out for dinner. We called around and found a local diner was open for business. And what a business they were doing. It didn't take long before we were sharing storm stories with folks at a neighboring table.

Dinner was a welcome break from the cold and dark. Afterward, Rosanne and Ira decided to sleep at home, despite their cold house. We went our separate ways hoping Monday would bring some relief.

(To be continued)

60 Hours

In case you haven't noticed I haven't blogged for a while. One night I got lazy. However, for the last 60 hours we were without power thanks to the October snowstorm that slogged the Northeast. So no blogging. Too busy trying to keep warm and worrying about the water rising steadily in the basement.

(Before you start telling me that if I had a Smart Phone with satellite service I could bore you minute- by-minute with the details of our plight. Stop. Not interested. Neither would you be.)

Now we have some idea of how folks feel when hit by tornadoes and floods and hurricanes. At least we still have our house, the heat is back on and the water, which reached a depth of eight inches, has receded from the basement, leaving a minor mess.

I say minor because Hurricane Irene taught us a lesson. After Irene we emptied our basement of important papers (that was the shredding blog) and a lot of stuff we thought we should get rid of anyway. The water damaged some paneling and maybe the water heater, washer and dryer. We'll know more after the plumber checks things out tomorrow morning.

Meanwhile, driving around town we were amazed at the number of streets closed by fallen trees. In fact, we were lucky to get home Saturday night while the storm was raging.

With our friends, Rosanne and Ira, we had tickets to a show Saturday in New Brunswick which is about an hour from Verona. Ignoring all the warnings about the weather, we went. Rosanne is an excellent driver and got us there in time to have a cup of coffee before curtain time.

After the theater, Rosanne drove us to a nice restaurant in nearby Caldwell where the four of us had a leisurely dinner and then headed home. That's when the adventure began. Driving from Caldwell to Verona, we noticed the lights were out along Bloomfield Ave. As we approached Verona, we saw street lights and our spirits rose.

However, once we got off the main road and into our side streets, darkness prevailed. Not only that, but several routes to our street (we live on the same street) were blocked. We got one house away from Rosanne's driveway and had to stop there. She saw wires in front of her house and the police told her not to go into her house. So we all we walked up to our house and couldn't believe we had lights.

That didn't last long. Within 10 minutes our power also went out. So we brought out the flashlights, lit some candles and all went to bed in our house.

End of day one.

(To be continued)

Junk Alert!

There it was on the back page of the local paper, the entire back page: A full page ad for “Antiques Buying Roadshow.”

Not to be mistaken for the PBS TV show of almost the same name: “Antiques Roadshow.”

As always, the devil is in the details, or in this case, the clever insert of the word “Buying” between Antiques and Roadshow.

So before you lug out what you think are your oldies but goodies take a good hard look at what they're looking for: dolls and toys, perfume and lipstick items, vintage clothing, etc. Does that sound like your grandma's 17^th century rocker?

I doubt it. Reads more like a garage sale gone amok. The “buyers” will be around here for two days at a local hotel and I'm sure they'll get some folks expecting to hit it big. I won't be one of them.

When I mentioned this venture to my son he warned me not to give away any items he might want. He does have first dibs of a few of our possessions but none of them are worth much. In fact, his biggest potential prize is a “wonder knife” we received as a wedding present 59 years ago.

We still have it, still use it and he ain't getting it until we're done.

So beware the advertiser's sting. It's in the fine print.

Waiting For Fun (ours) and Profit (theirs)

I went shopping with my wife this afternoon. That is she shopped. I drove and when we arrived at our destination, I found a comfortable chair and read the paper while she tried on clothes.

I don't mind this kind of shopping because it gives me time to sit quietly and catch up on the news, the columns and anything else that strikes my fancy that day. When waiting is expected it's important to have reading material with you. Sometimes I'll take a book. Today it was The Times.

After a while my wife came to my chair and modeled the garment she chose. This is when my role becomes: “The Approver.” I'm pretty good at it.

If I like what she's picked out I'll tell her. If I don't like it, it's a bit trickier, but I tell her as diplomatically as possible. No hard feelings necessary. Thing is, over the years she has come to trust my judgment.

This was a good day in that I finished the entire paper. Not that I read every word. I never do. I read what I like and usually find enough stuff each day to make the subscription worthwhile.

And since my wife found what she was looking for, it was a successful venture for all.

Subscribe to Unsubscribe

Like most people I get a lot of emails from places and people I never heard of and don't particularly care to hear from. Some of them give you the opportunity to “unsubscribe” to their offerings.

Problem is you have to “subscribe” to them to unsubscribe. I don't buy this. These sites got my email address from somewhere and since they are soliciting me to that address they should know what it is without me having to enter it again.

If I did, who knows where it would end up.

I was warned once that by “unsubscribing” you are, in effect, giving your email address to a third or maybe even a fourth party, or more. Which is why I usually don't subscribe to unsubscribe.

But once in a while I'll get an unwanted email and I'll click on their unsubscribe message. And once in a while it works without having to give my email address all over again. Mostly not.

If anyone knows how to permanently rid oneself of unwanted email solicitations I would subscribe to the advice.

Unhappy Meals

I was going to goof on Texas prison officials who have cut back inmates to two meals a day on weekends in some prisons. But reading further into the story there doesn't seem to be too much of a controversy.

Sure, some inmate families and prisoners rights advocates think the cutbacks are harsh. The state is in the red (literally and figuratively) and this is supposed to help cut $2.8 million from the budget of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. Good luck with that.

Then I thought maybe Gov. Rick Perry came up with this idea to starve prisoners to death rather than execute them. But that would take too long. And it wouldn't look good on his resume.

Maybe they should charge the prisoners for their meals rather than feed them at taxpayer expense. Prisoners can buy snacks from the commissary but their families have to send them money for that.

This issue of feeding prison inmates three meals a day surely will work its way into the courts. I hope the judges have the stomach for it.

Bon apetit.