Wednesday, July 25, 2012

25 July 2012 Morning becomes electric

Cassi Creek:
          That’s the throwaway tidbit for the folks who have achieved a decent level of literacy; and in doing so, eclipsed my meager knowledge of plays, playwrights, and the “legitimate theater.” 
          I must honestly admit that while I enjoy seeing a well-written, well-performed play, I can probably count the number of plays I have read for the pleasure of reading them, rather than reading them as part of a literature class, within the limits of a normal systolic BP.  Therefore, I’ll lay down that tribute to ancient Greece and keep moving. 
          Sometime around 0500, a group of thunderstorms rolled into the region, entrained, and began to drop rain.  The noise of a large thunderstorm dropping rain upon a metal roof is hard to ignore.  The repetitive, frequent lightning strikes add a unique character as they thunder rolls down the valley, echoing off the low-hanging clouds and the valley walls.   Factor in the sound of UPS working as intended, clamping surges, maintaining power to computers, phones, and other electronic devices; and there is a continual high-decibel assault upon any further sleep. 
          I finally gave up and rolled out at 0530.  I was trying to navigate around the house by lightning flash and LED indicators on the face of our various tools, appliances, and electronics.  Unfortunately, Loki was in full thunderstorm avoidance mode. 
          Her pattern includes achieving and maintaining tight proximity to one or both of us.  Since she believes that our reflexes are as acute as hers are, she fails to understand why we are angry when she stops suddenly in front of us, in a room with no light.  She also wants to find miniscule spaces to den up in.  This entails her trying to crawl or climb into every small, confined spot she can find.  We’ve had to remove her from the pantry.  She’s attempted the dishwasher, the oven, various kitchen cabinets, the lower shelf of a kitchen island, our shower, and beneath any of several desks and workbenches. 
          While she was demonstrating dog terror, I was trying to bring our house back on line.  The oatmeal, cooked overnight, had to be returned to “warm” status, three clocks had to be reset while a fourth had to be returned to on time and set as the marker for time with no power.  Coffee had to be brewed, an early start avoiding, hopefully, more power outages.  The computers had to be booted and radar maps studied to find a safe window to shower that provides no interruptions and us with water.  All of this becomes semi-autonomic as well as semi-automatic.  I can pad from room to room in the dark, bringing systems on-line while muttering to Loki and myself. 
          We did find a safe window to shower, and to walk out to the road between small storm cells to retrieve the newspaper.  Ready to face the day, with the last cells moving to the southeast and away from us, I sat down to eat.  At that point, the cable and internet connections failed. 
          The secondary patters are held in incomplete mode.  The primary resources we use to keep our selves aware of the world are suddenly as absent and unobtainable as if they were protected by jamming systems intended to prevent their electronic war specialists from stealing information from ours. 
          We are suddenly shoved backward to communications capabilities equivalent to those of the 1950’s or even earlier.  The teavangelists must be overjoyed.

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