Today the great flood happened inside Kelley Ridge. It was just your birthday, Joe, and I was thinking about you, missing you, and feeling so smug about taking care of your house during the ice storm. Then I left for a night, the pipes froze in the Hobbit Hole, and I returnedto 24 hours worth of water in the basement which entered from two floors above. Are you watching my defeat?

No one could have given me three greater gifts. Thanks, Chippy.
My heart misses you so.

never to be alone on both my birthday and Valentine’s Day evenings again! At least Patti cooked bulgogi, and it was quite delicious. My groupies are always there for me. But going home alone is the pits. This lady sings the blues

The thing about being without electricity at Kelley Ridge was that I was thankful–thankful that I was trapped there and not somewhere else. Being there, I could burn wood and keep the house warm. This kept my pipes from freezing. Having experienced a burst pipe and a flood coming from my second floor all the way down to my basement through the ceilings, I was extremely grateful. I carried in what was left of my woodpile from the days of Joe. Much of it was rotten. What was not crumbling was wet or too big to fit into the stove. I had enough wood inside to get a fire going so that the ice melted off the wet wood.
I have two woodstoves. One is a Mama Bear, and she is located in the basement. She is a mother and will heat the whole house if stoked with good hot burning wood. For those of you who do not heat with wood, some wood burns hot and others does not. You would think that if it is burning, it must be hot. NOT SO. Anyway, the upstairs stove is a little, decorative kind of fake-o one. It is pretty, though. I can open the doors which are glass and watch, or I can close the doors and see light through the glass. This is true unless the draft is not good–then I have a house full of smoke or the glass is covered with soot, and I cannot see anything. As Pops would say, “About as useless as a teat on a boar hog.” Cute, though.
Bringing wood into a house is dirty. It makes everything dirty. Smoke is dirty. If a chimney is cold, it is hard to get a good draft right away. Smoke goes in the house. Then you smell like smoke. If you cannot take a shower for a long time, you will cease to smell yourself. But when you go to church, the people around you will think you live in a bacon factory. Bugs come out of wood that is brought into the house. It does not matter that these bugs have been frozen to -2 degrees. They will resurrect.
Please understand, I am not dissing wood heat. I survived on wood heat. I will be eternally grateful to Jim, Michele, Deb, and Jerry who brought or supplied me with wood. And, of course there was wood from the MR. WOOD himself. I sat next to the wimpy stove many nights, keeping warm, reading my book, drinking my tea that had been heated on its top. I grew very attached to my poker and my fire gloves supplied by Fron. They became my best friends. I said my prayers kneeling in front of Mama Bear as I waited for the embers from the night before to catch on a new log. And when the flames would lick affectionately in front of my warm face, I felt safe although alone.

We have all been surviving he effects of an ice storm. cold temperatures, and a snowstorm which came almost two weeks ago. I was without power for twelve days. Luckily I got trapped at Kelley Ridge so that I could keep the woodstove going. This insured that my pipes would not freeze. Jim B., Michele, and Deb kept me supplied with wood. I was able to get out after 4 days and get a shower. Beth sent lentil soup and bread. I’ll tell more about my adventures in the days to come, but I thought this poem, and these pictures might be a good way to start.

Bright Sun after Heavy Snow

by Jane Kenyon

A ledge of ice slides from the eaves,
piercing the crusted drift. Astonishing
how even a little violence
eases the mind.

In this extreme state of light
everything seems flawed: the streaked
pane, the forced bulbs on the sill
that refuse to bloom…A wad of dust
rolls like a desert weed
over the drafty floor.

Again I recall a neighbor’s
small affront — it rises in my mind
like the huge banks of snow along the road:
the plow, passing up and down all day,
pushes them higher and higher…

The shadow of smoke rising from the chimney
moves abruptly over the yard.
The clothesline rises in the wind. One
wooden pin is left, solitary as a finger;
it, too, rises and falls.

“Bright Sun after Heavy Snow” by Jane Kenyon, from The Boat of Quiet Hours. © Graywolf Press, 1986.

Deb took me to WICKED at the Kentucky Center for the Arts as an early birthday present. We met KK and Kyle for Mass at St. Louis Bertrand first. Then Deb and I went to the play. It was WONDERFUL!! I highly recommend it to anyone who likes THE WIZARD OF OZ. This is based on the novel by Gregory Maguire and tells the story of Glinda and the Wicked Witches of the West and East before Dorothy drops in. The music is great–Stephen Schwartz. I’ve always like his shows (GODSPELL and PIPPIN). Wayne and I had several of his songs in our wedding. Afterward Deb took us out to a great new restaurant downtown to celebrate Caitlan and Kyle’s engagement. It was a wonderful day!

praying today and every day for the protection of Barack Obama and his family, for the wisdom of the Holy Spirit to come upon him, and that his association with Pastor Rick Warren might soften his heart to consider the rights of unborn children.

On ALL THINGS CONSIDERED today. You have to hear her read it to get the full effect. Click on the title to do so. Loved this! Let’s all pray for him!

U Being U

Mr. President-Elect
Makes me wanna get MY stuff
correct

I feel like starting with something RADICAL
Like,
Love my Neighbor
Like share what I’ve got
Like think for myself
Like ask the hard questions
Like lean toward the good and help keep the peace

U being U
Makes me wanna do something new
Like Go Green, or at least try to.

You being you, Mr. President-Elect
Makes me want to look on others with respect
Makes me wanna
practice Radical Inclusion, you know,
Open my heart wide, especially in the presence of folks who
Are not like me, you know,
work to see my Brother
In the Other
You make me want to entertain all my far-out ideas
Make me wanna represent the race, as in the human race,
And know that, like You, I too am Prized.

And to those who say yr a Magic Negro,
I love them just the same
And my love helps us weave a United States.

Mr. President,
Heaven sent
Since heaven is just a place where possibility
becomes possible
And where hostility
holsters
its hostile,
I feel like picking up the trash in the park or on the beach
I think I’ll teach, and learn, from all I meet
I think I’ll apologize in person for all our faults
and try to make amends for our shortcomings
And also, I think,
I’ll brag,
Just a little bit,
About how cool We The People are

Oh, I just had to sing you a little something
Because you,
Mr. President,
You are embarking with Us on an awesome and beautiful
And potentially perilous journey
And so I am giving you
All the Love
All the Love
All the Love
All the Love
Mr. President
That I’ve got
Because I believe
In the dream
And I am ready
To wake up
And live it.

Suzan-Lori Parks is a novelist and playwright. She is the winner of the 2002 Pulitzer Prize in drama for the play Topdog/Underdog.

Sabbath is a day of rest. So Jerry and I decided to have a more restful day than most. We had agreed to meet for a breakfast bar date at Shoney’s. Then we walked through the Peddler’s Mall where he found a leather Civil War pouch and I found a blue glass flower pot. We headed back to Kelley Ridge where he helped me put the Christmas tree in the basement. I had spent yesterday taking down most of the decorations while watching my Netflix dvd of “24.” I had also read half of THE SHACK, so I didn’t get everything packed up. I hadn’t planned on his coming over, so the place was kind of a mess, but when he offered to help me get the tree into the basement (which is always an ordeal for me), I took him up on it. He also helped me change the bulb on my motion detector light (hence the somewhat “day of rest”). He was supposed to go to a gallery showing of a movie about Steve Armstrong (his friend) and Stephen Powell, but he decided stay, and we just lazed around watching the Cardinals beat the Eagles and make it to the Super Bowl. We figured out how to hook up my digital converters for my old-fashioned rabbit ear antennae, so now I can get 4 KET channels!! We both usually watch KET on Sunday nights, so we watched a British comedy while we ate cabbage soup and cornbread, and then as it snowed, we watched Masterpiece’s WUTHERING HEIGHTS. The regular KET channel gave up its feed for a while, but luckily, because we had hooked up the converter, we could get the same program on the KET-HD channel. It was so nice to snuggle on the couch, drink hot chocolate, eat gingersnaps, and relax in front of the fire. It had started to snow, and Jerry really should have left earlier, but I’m glad he didn’t. He said we both needed a restful day, and he was right.