Not the Usual Drill

Yesterday I had my six month cleaning/check-up with my dentist. Because he used to live down the street from me and still has his practice in Webster Groves, we always find something to chat about once he removes his hands from my mouth. The topic yesterday was my street construction, finally completed eight months late and who knows how much over budget. I was very happy to get a good report from the dentist in light of my friend's recent news of a recession, not with the economy or her husband's hairline, but with her gums.

So yesterday's visit was pretty normal, except for how it began. I was in the waiting room, well....waiting.... for my hygienist to call my name. A nicely dressed older gentleman came from the back, apparently finished with his appointment. After chatting with the gals behind the reception desk, he came into the waiting room and told me to get fully undressed and put on a paper gown, and that he would be right with me. I stared at him a moment, and he said, "I'm Dr. Weisenfels." I replied, "I know you are. You look just like your picture in the ads." (NOT - Dr. Weisenfels is in his 50's with black hair.) He began to laugh and then went out the front door. The one lady behind the desk said she couldn't believe I had gone along with "Don". I explained that I knew he was joking around, but that he is lucky because at his age he can get away with it. A younger man would be in big trouble with those lines. She went on to tell the story about how one day he came into the office and went right up to a patient in the waiting area, introducing himself as Dr. Weisenfels. He also told her to take off her clothes and put on a gown. But this was the patients first time at the office, so she didn't know it really wasn't the dentist. The staff had to do a quick intervention!

The Night the Lights Went Out in Webster

When the sirens went off yesterday afternoon, Jim, Kirby and I headed for the basement, flashlights and a crank generated radio in tow. At 4:30 the power went off. We were cautiously optimistic that the wind had only knocked the power out, but when the storm passed we headed outside. Two doors down a 150 year old oak had fallen across Swon Avenue, taking the power lines down with it. We have been in this situation before, and because only a couple dozen houses are impacted we are waaaaay down on the priority list. What makes it more annoying is that the people across the street never lose power. Apparently they are hooked into the transformer that takes care of the courthouse and police/fire station. Whether it is buried or what, I don't know. But I can tell you that as time crawls by with no power for us and their houses blaze with light, nasty thoughts enter my head. Our basement fills with water and our food spoils, and they watch television and play on their computers. At that point in time, they don't care if we are in the National Historic District and they aren't. They have the power!

Fortunately we have a gas stove, so I was able to make pancakes and eggs for supper. Then I showered early to take advantage of what little light was coming through the bathroom window in the gloomy evening. By 8:30 I was in bed attempting to read by the light of candles and a portable book light. At 9:30 I gave up and went to sleep. Jim in the meantime was worried about the water in the basement, and he and the next door neighbor located a generator to power up our respective sump pumps. (We have a generator but Jim couldn't get it to work. That's helpful, right?) A lady around the corner had the balls to come over later and tell them to turn it off because she and her husband couldn't sleep. She didn't care that our possessions were being destroyed by the water.

Since I had gone to sleep so early, I woke up at 5:30 to complete silence. No hum of electricity in the air. Nor any sound of the generator going next door. Uh, oh... The basement wasn't too flooded, fortunately, so Jim waited until 7:30 to purchase more gas for the generator so he could fire it up again. In the meantime, he was down in the basement attempting again to start ours. He got it going for a bit, and before long the gas fumes permeated the main floor of the house. If his beloved dog wasn't by my side, I would have suspected he was going after my life insurance policy! Even I know you aren't supposed to run those things inside a building. "Well, I had it by the back door and the door was open," he said. Yeah, tell it to the coroner, I was thinking. Honestly, the house still smells like gasoline, despite burning candles and opening windows to let in the 55 degree cool air.

I had enough light coming in the windows to cut fabric for the wall quilt I am making for the remodeled bathroom. At least the whole morning wasn't a waste. The power finally was restored at 12:30 this afternoon. You just don't appreciate how much we rely on electricity until you don't have it. So here's a tip of the bonnet to Laura Ingalls Wilder. You can have your little house on the prairie. I'll keep my house on Maple with its electricity. Except when it storms...

Killer Kirby - Don't Let the Face Fool You

You have heard my rabbit tales before. We are cursed with a plethora of the cute little beasts now that the owls have moved on to furrier pastures. And since spring brings thought of love (or at least lust) to the male bunnies, there's all kinds of hoppin' going on around here. Yesterday as I was planting some portulaca out front, a big, bold bunny sat in the middle of the yard and watched. No doubt wondering what I was putting out for supper.

Speaking of supper, we grilled burgers and were sitting out back enjoying the evening when Kirby made a mad dash off the patio. Since it usually takes a stick of dynamite to remove him from Jim's side when he is eating, I glanced up to see what had captured his attention. He ran right up to a rabbit and head-butted it. Seriously...If I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. The rabbit finally took off with Kirby in hot pursuit until it slipped through the fence. He trotted back to the spot where the rabbit had been laying down, and all of a sudden I saw something dangling from his mouth. Thinking it was just fur, I walked over to him and it became apparent why the bunny hadn't run from Kirby at first. She had been giving birth. He literally had a newborn in his mouth. Yuck!

Now, trying to get something out of his mouth is like trying to get Sarah Palin to stop talking when a microphone is in front of her. I did my best to distract him by acting like the kitties were outside next door. It actually worked, so when he dropped the bunny to see what I was doing, Jim scooped up its now lifeless body and disposed of it. This morning Kirby had another baby in his mouth, fortunately while Jim was still at the house. We are not sure where he found this one. While I don't like the rabbits in my yard destroying hundreds of dollars of plant material, I also don't want Kirby to rid the world of them one baby at a time. If I could come up with a true rabbit repellent, I could be a millionaire!