Sixty One Hours

That's how long I went without power.  It turned me into a four year old in need of a nap.  The candle-lit room was not nearly as bright as it appears above.

We had power during the worst of it, though we could see and hear transformers blowing left and right.  We endured properly, by having a party!

Sunday morning, 7:15, as I was standing with the fridge door open, the power flickered, surged and everything went silent. It hit most of the neighborhood, save a few lines of homes. And so began the wait.

Do you know how hard it is to read with a flashlight propped between your ear and shoulder?  I usually have the radio turned to the local public radio most of the day.  I had no NPR.  It was disorienting.  I tried to get my fix in the car, but the car decided to die Sunday afternoon.  So it was me and the candles.

We threw a No Power party Sunday night, to demolish what we could from our fridges and so we weren't sitting at home alone in the dark, cursing and working ourselves into a righteous rage.  At least not yet.

Monday, dropped my car off at the mechanic's and walked home, a couple miles.  Weather was absolutely gorgeous, the air clean and crisp and the slower pace along my usual commute allowed me to really see the houses and yards and things I hadn't noticed from the vantage of  the driver's seat.  My neighbor S kindly lent me her car in exchange for use of my hot shower so that I could drive to an open Y and swim.  Our Y had no power.  That afternoon, I walked down to the Barnes and Noble to partake of the Starbucks power outlets and the JHU free wifi.  Catch up on the internet and charge my cell.

There was people-watching aplenty, and being a pedestrian made me love my city a little more.  I took time to actually look at  all the murals painted on end units, peer into people's gardens and on their porches.  Wander into the little odd shops tucked back a block.   Met and complimented  half of the couple that is renovating a house we pass weekly en route to the market.  It's been neat to see the neglected victorian shape up and get some tender loving care.  Sat in the sun once my cell was charged and read some magazines.  Without the car, without electricity, without the entertainment of the internet  or radio at home, with all the uncertainty, I just settled into the warm sun and let go of urgency.

Wandered home, where my next door neighbor plied me with a cocktail on the deck and S made use of the hot shower.  Mechanic called and she took me to pick up the car.

Later, went out for dinner and half price margaritas with an assortment of neighbors.  Came home to a dark house.  I won't lie, at this point, it was frustrating and by midafternoon Tuesday, I was in a foul mood.

I swam and then overcame my urge to sulk and took up the invite for dinner on a powered neighbors' porch.  They fed us electrical refugees well, and my crank lessened under the spell of good company, spaghetti, garlic bread, étouffée, salad and wine.  

Round about 8, I saw a glint in my window.  In disbelief, I started gesturing incoherently to the porch lights glowing across the street.  As I did so, a roar of joy and cheers swept through the neighborhood and down the street.  We joined in and hugged and high-fived.  It's ridiculous how much the inconvenience weighed upon us all.

The peaches in the freezer were the only casualty I was going to mourn, knowing I wouldn't get to dealing with them until they were probably no good.  But the shower-needing friend S offered to stew them up for me.

I came home today to a couple tubs of rum spiced stewed peaches in my fridge.

I cannot imagine how glum  and frankly, really disgruntled, I would have been had it not been for this neighborhood full of friends.  We entertained one another, took care of one another, shared information.  I cannot imagine living in a better place.

Irene, my liver and the contents of my fridge might not thank you, but I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to enjoy the camaraderie and take some walks.

It Starts With An Earthquake/ Hurricane/ And Downpours...

Yes, this is a natural disaster post.  Sorry about the earworm with the wrong lyrics.  And Lenny Bruce might not have been afraid, but I really don't like earthquakes.  Yes, I might even fear them.

In the past month, if I count this upcoming weekend, I will have experienced all three, with attendant freakouts, casualties and oh hey!  More projects.

First up:  downpours.  Back in June, we'd had  one big storm and I got a wee leak in the back bedroom by the downspout.  Due to telephone avoidance, I didn't do anything about it.  Yes, I know.  Shut it. Well, I dug up the roofing contract from settlement, and sure enough, the roof is under warranty for a decade provide I recoat every 3 years.  This is year 2.  Great!  Fast forward to the weekend of August 12.

It pours.  And  pours.  And the leak returns.  Late one night, I notice the leak is spreading.  Oh hell, it's pooling!  This calls for desperate measures:  armed with a phillips screwdriver, I make a panicky call to my parents (they don't answer.  I just want validation in what I'm about to do.  And I want my mommy.)  I grit my teeth, grab the stepstool and prepare myself to commit minor demolition:  poke a hole in my ceiling.  Ahg!  I poke one hole, it dribbles.  Move over a little, another.  More dribbles.  A third.  Fwoosh!  Well, as much a fwoosh as maybe a cup and a half of water makes.

And then a chunk falls down.  And I have a bona fide HOLE IN THE CEILING!

There's a hole in my ceiling, a photo by sarameg on Flickr.

Up close:

HOLE, a photo by sarameg on Flickr.

Yeah, not my finest hour. In any case, I called the roofer Monday, and they came out Tuesday morning and patched it up. Additionally, they found a SHOVEL on my roof. A really heavy, rusty, broken shovel. That makes #2. I found the first clearing off my roof in the 2010 blizzards.  I should blog about that adventure someday....

It rains crazy-heavy again later in the week and everything stays dry.  Whew.  Roof repair cost nothing, due to the warranty.  Now fixing the ceiling, that's on me.  Sigh.


This weekend we again had heavy rains.  Hail even!  This time, problem child was the porch roof.  Now, the porch roof normally doesn't leak.  Unless the drain is plugged, which given the trees around here...  I regularly clear it out, but somehow, despite it not being leaf season, it acquired a blockage's worth of leaves in the space of a week, the last time I cleaned it out.

This is the clear drain:

Porch roof drain, a photo by sarameg on Flickr.

See that teeny square hole?  If that gets plugged, the roof fills.  Then it leaks through the surface and this happens:

Porch ceiling leak, a photo by sarameg on Flickr.

So one evening, I notice it is dripping on the porch and swear. A lot. Up on the porch roof I go, in a thunderstorm to heave handfuls of sodden leaves off the roof. Leak stopped.  Sara soaked and filthy.

That's all the boring, routine stuff.  Now for the real excitement.  That's right, the headliner of my week, hell, year maybe:

  THE EARTHQUAKE.

For the unlikely one individual who doesn't know this, I live in Maryland.  Prior to that, NC and NM.    Until yesterday, I have never, ever experienced an earthquake.  I was very secure in that state of affairs, believe you me.  No latent, secret desire to ever go through one.

I am sadly disappointed.  Tuesday 8/23, at 1:52 pm, I was at work.  We're perched on a ravine over the Stony Run, and over the past year, the City has been doing blasting as part of a drainage project.  Usually they honk a warning horn before the blast. Usually.  Which is why when the familiar rumble that feels and sounds like riding down a rock avalanche in the building started, I didn't jump.  Then I realize there was no initial blast.  And instead of tapering off, it was actually increasing and wow, I could see the walls moving and hey, that's a second wave and the metal in the windows is creaking and popping and my flatscreen monitor is rocking and HOLY HELL WE'RE REALLY ROCKING HERE.  I turn and stare blankly at my officemate, who starts laughing at me.

I think he's seen my What the everloving fuck?!! face a few too many times this year.  He chirps punchily "It's an earthquake!"  I have an insanely strong desire chuck my squishy Hubbles at him before I flee to somewhere not shaking and not  looking out over a steep ravine.

As it stops, I post to a favorite board "Um, earthquake.  Seriously."  And then I bolt from the building as my officemate keeps laughing.  It's stopped, right?  Rather like shutting the barn door.  But I've just had an adrenaline dump, so rational has left the building.  Barn.  Whatever.

So yeah, we'd just had a (currently) 5.8 earthquake, epicenter out in Mineral, VA.

I do not recommend it.  Not at all.  I'd say run, but I thought Maryland was safe, damnit.  I suppose it is, except for every hundred plus years or so, but why did it have to be MY hundred years?


Oh, yes.  This is a house blog.  House is still standing.  Remarkably, the only things that fell inside were a couple tabletop pictures and a wooden cat that often falls if I walk too close or heavily to that shelf.  So that's good.

Later that evening, my neighbor calls from her porch.  "I have a crack."  Sure enough, there is a crack between the porch floor and the exterior wall, as if it has pulled away or settled.  I'm going with settled.  Earthquake-accelerated settling. Yes, exactly.

 I go poking about, and sure enough, I have a bit too.  It was caulked, so it wasn't a tight seam to begin with.  Still, earthquake left its mark.


Separation floor exterior wall, a photo by sarameg on Flickr.


Crack, a photo by sarameg on Flickr.

I checked out the room in the basement under the porch.  There was a chunk of plaster from here newly strewn on the floor.

Yup, looks like the porch settled, a photo by sarameg on Flickr.
There were also some new/expanded cracks.


Expanded, a photo by sarameg on Flickr.
 I'm not too fussed.  It's an interior wall supporting the porch, and it looks more like shook rather than collapse.


I hope.

Again:  earthquakes?  Thumbs down.   Reject.  Bad.  SUCK.

Next up:  Hurricane  Irene!  Oh wait, that's coming this weekend.  Best go make sure the drains are clear...

Projects:  ceiling repair, caulking.  Avoiding natural disasters.

I think I've covered all the elements in the past year and a bit.  Earth(quake), wind (blizzard, hurricane,) water (blizzard, hurricane, crazy storms!) and fire (at work, which has wind too:  halon gas!)  Enough already!  Please?