“Our special correspondent in the day after tomorrow reports,” the journalist was saying. … — H.G. Wells, “The Time Machine.”
We traveled back in time for a while yesterday. Seemed appropriate, given Tuesday’s events.
Instead of tapping, tapping like a stately Raven upon the keyboard after the power went out at 12:53 a.m. Thursday — and stayed out, for nearly 15 hours — it was scribble, scribble, scribble like Mr. Gibbon, recording my little fragments of history with pen and paper.
When your entire life has been light on calamities, save those self-inflicted, it’s illuminating to see just how far up your ass you’ve been storing your head. The things you don’t think about until circumstances insist.
Let’s begin at the beginning.
First, when the indoors feels like the outdoors you dress like the homeless, albeit with a dash more style because you and your spouse scored some killer deals while doing time in the outdoor industry. When I hit Keller’s for tortillas as the storm began rolling in on Wednesday the two dudes I saw using Heights Cleaners as a windbreak were not outfitted so handsomely.
Next, an electric gooseneck kettle is great for making coffee when there is electricity. Without juice it’s the battered old blue enamelware pot, gas cooktop, and butane lighter.
Speaking of heat, we have two fireplaces that we haven’t used in 10 years, because fireplaces are basically heat pumps that run backwards and messy to boot. O, for the highly efficient wood-burning Lopi fireplace insert of good ol’ CrustyTucky. But when the power failed there we had to break out the Coleman camp stove to cook because the range-oven combo was electric.
We have a portable propane heater suitable for emergency indoor use, but like the fireplaces, it’s never been put to the test. I envision the headline: “Carbon monoxide blamed in couple’s death.” The cat ate their lips. Safer to add layers.
Light, too, was an issue at dark-thirty in the icebox. Instead of flipping a switch we were flipping our wigs as we tracked down the battery-powered flashlights, lanterns, and headlamps we haven’t used in the better part of quite some time. Some were charged; others were very dim indeed, like their owners, who had neglected to stock actual candlepower.
Once the issues of coffee, heat retention, and illumination had been resolved, the next hurdle was finding out what the fuck, etc.
We are, as you know, in the information business, Herself and I. She gets paid to find it, but I am no longer a meat hunter. I’ll track the wily news items, but only for sport. Shooting off my mouth for fun instead of profit.
For a change — ¡Que milagro! — both our iPhones were charged. So we quickly learned that about 50,000 of our fellow New Mexicans were shivering in the dark alongside us, and that it would be something like 2 in the morning — on Friday — before we could expect any relief.
As you might expect, I had a few thoughts about this, along with many other things as well. And as a scribbler emeritus and amateur podcaster I like to share my musings with this small, deeply disturbed audience while they’re fresh. But I can’t do them justice on an iPhone, not without a magnifying glass and a lot of bad language. I deal in emotions, not emoji. I demand at least an 11-inch display and a physical QWERTY keyboard.
The 15-inch 2014 MacBook Pro I’m using now was literally a non-starter. Ever since the “Geniuses” at the local Apple Store buggered its display while replacing the battery it needs an external display to function, and the external display requires (wait for it) electricity.
So I booted up my 11-inch 2012 MacBook Air, which — untouched by “Genius” — still gets excellent life from its battery. When it’s charged. Which it was not. Ten percent and dropping faster than the temperature.
That left the 13-inch 2014 MacBook Pro. Boom! Fully charged. Using the iPhone as a hotspot I popped up some notes about the power outage and a link to the latest episode of Radio Free Dogpatch. Behold, the mountain labors and brings forth a mouse.
Then we waited.
We took a bit of indoor exercise, Herself doing calisthenics in her office, me riding the Cateye CS-1000 trainer as a warmup for some light weightlifting. There was lunch.
As the phones slowly lost juice we went on another scavenger hunt, unearthing a handful of portable power banks and lanterns with charging capability that kept communications alive until the power suddenly returned at 3:12 p.m. yesterday, well ahead of schedule.
We were a little worried about losing it again — the forecast called for 5-12 inches of snow in the foothills — but at a glance I’d say the weatherpeople missed their guess by, oh, let’s see here, about 5-12 inches.
So don’t call FEMA. We don’t need a trailer or anything.
As for the political news — well, our special correspondent in the day after tomorrow has yet to file his report. But his friend had some thoughts.
He I know — for the question had been discussed among us long before the Time Machine was made — thought but cheerlessly of the advancement of mankind, and saw in the growing pile of civilization only a foolish heaping that must inevitably fall back upon and destroy its makers in the end. If that is so, it remains for us to live as though it were not so.
Back to you, Chet.
Mad Blog Media 
We lost our natural gas for 3 days during a very cold spell, -3 degrees in Bisbee, the feeble memory says 2005/6. Being at the end of the natural gas line that runs from Texas is not a good place to be. When they must maintain a certain pressure in the line during unprecedented demand, they start shutting down at the end of the line and work their way East as pressures fell. We had power, so a microwave and Primus camp stove handled cooking. Sandy’s studio had a wall mounted heat pump unit, so we had a warm place to sleep. Other camping gear took care of the rest including hot showers. We no longer camp and our tents were donated long ago. But, we kept the rest of the camp stuff including a big Bean tripod sunshade that could serve as a floor-less tent if required. Never know when you might end up in a van down by the river.
That camping gear is good for a helluva lot more than camping, for sure.
We had a sleeping bag unzipped into a blanket, ready to add to the bed last night, before the lights came back on. And the cooking gear has come in handy more times than I care to count.
I used some tent stakes to tie down a young tree before the wind started howling. Whatever works, hey?
I tells ya…the world is all whopperjawed these days. I mean, I checked your weather and it was a brisk 40 degrees and partly? sunny. Meanwhile back here in what was formerly glacier heaven (waaay back in the day) I rode my 3 speed Linus to the market for some grub and worked up a lather as it was sunny as hell and 57 degrees. That led me to double check the map since I could swear you are south and I am….north. Who knows? Maybe there has been a major continental drift since Tuesday?
As for that power outage…in my region, it’s normal and regular as spam notice that your car warranty is up or your AMAZON ACCOUNT IS FROZEN OH MY GOD! So you bite the bullet and buy a Honda generator and hope like hell you remember to have gas for the damn thing on hand. But on the bright side, since I put in a solar field and also have a generator, I haven’t lost power since!! Sort of like a garlic necklace and vampires thing?
There’s some codicil to Murphy’s Law involved there for sure. If you don’t have a spare tube and pump, you will flat, and vice versa.
Funny thing, which may be related. The temptation on both sides is to classify all of “them” as “the enemy.” But when the lights went out I got a call from our Trumper neighbor who wanted to know if it was just him freezing to death in the dark or were we in the same icy sinking boat.
“Us too,” sez I. And he sez to me he sez that he has a generator that will run his furnace and if we start getting the snotsicles we should pop on over to his warming hut.
We were only out of power for about four hours up here. Which is good, because it got pretty cold. Had dinner by battery lantern light. I lit the gas stove with an old fashioned match, since the starter is electric. Take that, Martin Heinrich. Sure, electricity is cleaner than gas (unless provided via fossil fuel power plants) but that is small comfort when the power goes out. Wish I still had that cast iron wood burning stove we had in Los Alamos. It sat between the kitchen and living room and during one outage, I used it to heat the house.
O’G, your last post about your Trumper neighbor reminds me of an article I got in my snooze feed the other day. I’m not a fan of people being “enemy” rather than “neighbor”. I think the more we politically segregate and only see our fellow citizens via social media propaganda, the worse this whole goddamn mess will get. I’ve been getting hit with a fusillade of cat turds up here since I posted a version of my “election analysis” on the New Mexican. Pretty weird: the narcissism of small differences.
Oh, and the article, by a NYC type who moved upstate to the Land of Red. Apologies if I already sent you guys this. My memory is fading faster than my fitness.
Whatever Happens, Love Thy Neighbor
I’m a Democrat living in a red, rural county. Trump supporters have mowed my lawn, walked my dog, and eroded my prejudices with their humanity.
By Larissa Phillips
November 2, 2024
https://www.thefp.com/p/whatever-happens-love-thy-neighbor-trump-kamala
One of the assisted-living types who helped care for Herself the Elder has been without power for three days and counting up in Rio Rancho. She had to check into a motel for a day to tidy up and get warm. Yikes, etc.
Our pet Trumper is a Burqueño born and bred, a livelong resident save for his stint in the Navy (he’s a disabled vet and retired USPS delivery guy). Suffers from the usual bugaboos afflicting the Hard Right. A casual chat in the cul-de-sac can rocket right off the rails in short order.
But he took good care of his mom until she passed, worked through a contentious relationship with his daughter and they seem to be getting along fine, now that he has one grandkid on the deck and another on the way. Loves his dogs, two of which have passed since we’ve been here; the third has some class of cancer that seems to be under control.
I took him to PT after his knee replacement, and helped move a final bit of furniture out of his mom’s assisted-living place and into Goodwill. Gave him some advice on bikes and exercise, and have promised to go walking with him so he can start getting back in shape.
We agree on almost nothing, but if we saw the meth pirates were climbing in one of our windows with knives in their teeth (more likely MAC-10s in one hand) and hollered for help, he’d be the first responder. A gun nut in the ’hood is not always a bad idea.
I’ve spent decades around these people in Texas, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico. In Bibleburg and CrustyTucky we felt positively besieged at times. B-burg’s Donks didn’t bother contesting a lot of races and Jesus Hitler took 67 percent of the vote in CrustyTucky this time around, a figure I find surprisingly low.
The Right sees the Left as a threat; the Left sees the Right likewise. But on the person-to-person level we see ourselves as neighbors, maybe even friends.
I’d like to think we could find a way to work through our differences, but what the late, great newshound Ed Quillen used to call The Committee That Really Runs America (Ananias Ziegler, media relations coordinator) and the People of Money would really rather that we didn’t.
The Elusive Bubba Factor. That was genuinely funny. And close to the truth.
It’s smart to refuse to be divided by the assholes who are successfully doing it on purpose. And, I have the same sort of folks in my circle. They might have good hearts, but they are still ignorant, or maybe stupid. It’s their choice. The Obamas, who I respect mucho, say when they go low we go high. Well, that shit don’t work. I will go lower and challenge them with one question, “How will he do the things he promised?” Explain it to me in detail. Their stupidity and ignorance, and maybe sexism and racism, need to be brought into the light. No more hiding.
My old man voted for Trump in 2016. Voted for Biden in 2020 and Harris this time. Has nothing but praise for Sleepy Joe. One reason being that without the cap on medication costs, the Old Man would be out of pocket massively. Dad was a high school dropout, but probably could skate rings around today’s Econ 101 classes via self learning.
I asked him what he thought about this election and he said “I thought Harris would win. I can’t figure out why anyone would still vote for Trump after all that has happened, but I guess people have their reasons.”. His own choice in ’16 was similar to a lot of rural, Upstate NY reasons: gun control and that “basket of deplorables” comment. Dad is a life NRA member, made his living on the factory floor of a Chevy plant, and lives in a bright red district, thanks to gerrymandering. We used to vote with Buffalo but the NYS legislature created “custom districts”, so to speak; his goes from east of Buffalo all the way through the Finger Lakes, dodging Rochester. Biden never, to my knowledge, took a shit on those “deplorables”. Well, until a week before the election and I chalk that up to age and frustration.
The old man is pretty close to that exit door. He likely won’t see what happens by ’28. My brother Steve takes him to see the heart surgeon on Monday, then there are decisions to be made.
Yep. The Committee That Really Runs America and the People of Money would hate my Old Man. He thinks too much on his own. Back in early spring when I was muttering on how I thought the Dems were fucking it up in prelude to the elections, it was he who gave me the fifteen minute lecture on how much Biden’s policies meant to him.
Priceless lines “When your entire life has been light on calamities, save those self-inflicted, it’s illuminating to see just how far up your ass you’ve been storing your head. The things you don’t think about until circumstances insist”
I would like your permission to use this insightful paragraph! With the caveat that will only be used as necessary to adjust negative energy at my upcoming HOA meeting.
Keeping the faith here in Santa Fe,
Steve
Thanks for enjoying the blather, Steve. Feel free to use any and all of it as a cudgel at your next HOA get-together.
The neighborhood association we enjoyed in Bibleburg (the Greater Patty Jewett Yacht & Gun Club Neighborhood) existed for the sole purpose of throwing an annual pot-luck block party with a band. Now that’s an HOA.