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The Perfect Storm.

Well, I’m back now after the longest silence from my blog to date. Even before I started my regular Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday schedule, which I had NEVER broken before thank you very much, I was still pretty regular. If I went three or four days without blogging, I’d start to get a little dicey. My fingers would itch to type. My brain would feel too heavy with the lack of regular release of complex emotions. It sucks, to be honest. I’m a blogger, through and through. I do it because I love it. I do it because I need to do it. I do it because it hurts not to. And boy, have I been hurting for the last several days.

This storm really kicked my a**. I don’t often experience a**-kicking storms. We had a heavy ice storm in Conway when we were temporarily living there three years ago. I was newly pregnant and the power wasn’t showing signs of restoration for several days so we escaped to Jersey. This time, we didn’t have that option because as of the time of writing this, (around 1pm on November 1st.) my parents still don’t have power, poor things. Even before that, back in 2007 when we finally agreed upon marrying on a mountain top in Chittenden, VT, I met a fierce blizzard. This was December before the April 2008 of our wedding and our whole families were invited to stay for a free weekend. It was glorious at first. Dog-sledding into the deep woods, luxurious accommodations, food/wine tastings and tours…then it all went downhill. A great blizzard blew in and we were eventually kicked out of our luxury house into the older, less glamorous, less hot-tubby main building. This event later inspired managment to get a generator but they hadn’t yet. We spent a cold, awkward night huddled with strangers around a fire, eating pasta dinners. Then we had to get up at 3am to somehow get off the mountain and get to Burlington Airport where our flight was miraculously not canceled – but should have been. After pure terror and nausea-inducing turbulence, we were deposited at Newark Airport where we had to then fly the six hours back to San Francisco. I had the middle seat. This was probably about when I decided I had had enough of winter, but I had also had had enough of flying in the winter.

Unfortunately, I was screwed either way. Live there but have to fly here. Live here but have to deal with winter.

And yet after those two excruciating winter storms, this Snowtober Halloween Storm was worse for me. I never even saw it coming. I heard the weather reports but pretty much laughed them off. We hadn’t lost power during Hurricane Irene. I wasn’t worried. I had enough to deal with. On Friday morning I was a table host/photographer of an important fundraising breakfast.

The MotherWoman Breakfast was on top of a beautiful mountain. Up there was a bit of snow and ice. Odd for October, but it was the top of a mountain after all..

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Doesn’t this view really knock the life and breath back into you?

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After that big enough deal, I had to go home and move. Or rather, stand and read as all of my furniture was taken from me. Then we finally got to the new house at nightfall and managed some unpacking, Scarlet-wrangling, and dinner before we fell asleep, exhausted. On Saturday we woke up ready to shop and connect with our new home. We didn’t get very far.

I was faced with something I’m not sure I’ve ever been faced with – I lost power in my own home for over 48 hours. I just don’t remember that happening as a child, although my parents may remember differently. I remember black-outs, sure. Scrambling for flashlights and candles. Being over-prepared. Telling scary stories. Huddling around the kerosene heaters. I just recall that each time the power came back after a few hours, tops. In all of my later apartments, I’d never lost power for any significant amount of time. So this was why I wasn’t worried at first the other day. Then I found myself praying in the middle of the night, huddled under 2-3 blankets. Just praying. This couldn’t continue! We had only spent one night here.

I had no connection yet. I had no chance to make a connection here. So I had no “real” place to call home. No warm, connective place to call home anyway. I was suffering. Literally suffering. I was pale and gaunt and unpacking in a Land’s End winter coat and hat. And I still couldn’t get the chill out of my bones. It was a complex chill, full of emotional and physical trauma. I felt homeless again just like I had felt three winters ago. Only, it was fall! Not only that, Halloween weekend! We had to flee again, this time for two nights in Conway, which miraculously never lost power. It was much needed rest and relaxation. And pure restoration. Now we’re back and warm and with cable and I’m finally uploading the photos from the storm. Boy, it was a doozy out here in the Northampton wilderness. 3.4 miles from our last home but a different world.

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What is in those deep northern woods, I wonder? I shudder to think and I also delight in the thoughts of moose, bears and wolves. My northern animal trifecta of favorites. I’m pretty convinced that Bigfoot was once spotted near our property.

We woke up to this Saturday morning:

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We felt like Han Solo did.

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Thanks to Cassidy for taking this next set.

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It sure looks cozy on the outside but the inside was very much not so. Poor house. We never even had a chance to bond.

We’re making up for long lost cozy time tonight.

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