November 24, 1998
Back to Work
When I woke up it was quiet, and John was in the shower. Compared to all the bedlam of the night before, it was blessedly quiet. When we got outside, I could see that all the leaves on all the deciduous trees were gone. All the trees were bare skeletons of branches, less wind resistance, now, I guess.
The power was back on. It had gone out around midnight, come back on around 4 a.m., and was now back on again, which was very nice, and much faster than usual. I can't imagine what it would be like to be a lineman here, working in the pitch black night, with the wind roaring around you, invisible but felt with each gust. Reminded me of a thought I'd had about Janus, the arcangel of Wind, invisible, unseen, yet moving everything surrounding you. The rain being driven into the face while all around is the awareness of invisible powers flowing, some caught and held by lines, others flowing free.
It was nice to get up to light, though, and we went out in the rain with Fezzik to put him in his pen. Then into the Happy Buddha to get to work.
The Rangie's in the repair shop, seems that there was some water in some of the fuel, so there was some water damage in the engine. Bad. So the shop is fixing that for John. It should come back sometime before the vacation so that John can fix the other things that are bugging us. The Stoat, likely, has a blown head gasket, but we can't know until the engine comes apart, and since it has to be taken apart no matter what is damaged, it comes apart before we order parts. Poor Stoat.
So, in the meantime, we drive the '63 station wagon, the Happy Buddha, which has a rather tricky startup balance. It has a new carburehtor that it is much happier with, but the balance of fuel and air when the engine is cold is pretty critical and pretty trick, so, pretty much every time we start it it's a job of about five to ten minutes to get the engine to actually run smoothly. Tricky work, and, sometimes, the battery starts to run out of juice just before it actually catches.
The good thing is that it runs pretty smoothly once it's actually warmed up, now.
Getting to work was easy. Stopped at Victor's for breakfast, and was warmed by Jeanie's smile. That was nice with the cold, grey day we'd come back to. The mocha felt so good, hot and rich and lovely. I think I've had a caffeine headache for the last four days and finally got it to calm down with this.
Work was good. Is good. I'm having fun building new classes, now.
Lunch was amusing, as we went to QFC to get fried chicken, cole slaw and I wanted a few boxes of pulped fruit juice to put into yogurt to make my own smoothies. The stuff I'd bought last night was too sweet and too thinly flavored, and the boxed stuff had apricot pulp juice and real guava juice mixed with some grape juice to sweeten it. Might be strong enough to stand up to the yogurt.
The funny thing was that the checkout lady recognized us, and we talked a bit with her about Thanksgiving, about San Diego and then she automatically gave us a paper bag without asking, she remembered that we liked to use paper bags, which was kinda funny and interesting to realize. Our grocery store has a lady that remembers enough about us to give us the right bags without asking. That's kinda cool.
We bought pie stuff in the evening, for Thursday morning, as we're desserts for Thanksgiving dinner. And we didn't know if we'd have time the next night. Also salmon for dinner and had to go next door to the Bartell's Drugs to find 9 in. pie pans in aluminium for the dinner, so that I could just leave the pie tins. We also got shampoo and new toothbrushes as mine was fading fast.
I called Virginia in the evening and she said that she and Dick had the evening's service under control, so that I didn't have to show up Thanksgiving Eve if I felt like retreating for a while. It was good to have her listen and tell me that it was okay to work with my feelings, even better to get a good listen as to what the interrum pastor was like. Verbetim, "She's a good listener, good at asking us what we want and what we'd be comfortable with and what we want to make out of the services. It's quite the change." I'm likely to spill a lot of thoughts into my Faith page, sometime on the whole matter, I have to get it off my chest and brain sometime, and the only way is to write it all down, somewhere.
John had a lot to work through himself. So we talked a lot, and it just got my brain going.
He worked on a document for most of the evening after a dinner of salmon steaks, peas and pesto bread. Getting it read into the scanner and then into the machine. I read the last of Managra and it was beautifully put together at the end. Everything fit very neatly. I then read some bits of Tanith Lee's The White Serpant, an older book, fantasy, from the world of the Vis. Stuff that I'd read surrounding books on. What struck me was the clarity of her writing. Each scene painted in vividness, colors, sensations, scents, sound and touch. Beautifully crafted, each one framing a change of character, or soul, or heart, with switches between viewing this change from the inside or the outside.
I could do a lot worse than to imitate that. I also reread bits of Mirror Dance that were so smooth that slid into my brain happily. I enjoy Bujold's style, and nearly enjoy, more the early Miles books where the consequences are equal to the intentions.
Then I watched John play Bandicoot III until 1 a.m. and still had troubles going to sleep. I really have to do a brain dump.