Can We Talk 2

Power Outage

         I was cooking when the power went out. I had three things going on at once. I was cooling off the pot roast with potatoes and carrots that I cooked for the homeless shelter for women for Sunday. When cool, I would transfer it to an aluminum pan with foil covering, refrigerate until tomorrow, and they'll reheat at the shelter. Others are bringing the rest of the meal.

         The second was that I had in the oven some roasting potatoes, sweet and regular, for a potato salad I found in a magazine. The trial run at home will be tomorrow; if they like it, I'll do it again for Thanksgiving. I'll be able to do most of the work the day before, then bring to room tempera the next day and toss with vinegar and green onions. A little less stress on the holiday.

         The third item I was just finishing up-boxed mac and cheese for supper with Dad. I had leftover Waldorf salad and tossed salad. I had to mix up the macaroni in the dark, but we weren't ready for dinner.

         We groped around in the dark until he found his little flashlight-imagine an old man shuffling in the dark-and then some matches. For about five hours my neighborhood had no power. I left the potatoes steaming in the hot oven and wouldn't open it, so they finished cooking anyway. It was cold, ice had formed on the back porch. The most light around was a solar windmill on the porch, a model T with lights on its wheels standing out of a large flower pot. I had already fed the neighbor's cat, so that was done. We sat with our candles to read and a transistor radio on the only station he could find, a gospel station in another town. To break up the boredom, we got up to eat lukewarm and cold food.

         I couldn't concentrate on my book, so I closed my eyes and listened to the music and the thoughts running through my head. Finally, when my dad had to get up and stretch his aching bones, the lights came back. That meant I had to deal with all the food and wash dishes. The cold air in the house had kept the food well.

         I have oil lamps in the window behind the washer. In other words, they're not accessible in emergency. I could have gotten on my exercise bike. It's not like I need to see where I'm going, and it would have warmed me up. But no. I sat. I could have written some notes on the book I was reading, but I had an excuse not to do that. I bent the frame of my glasses in the dark. The power outage is going to be my excuse for everything that doesn't go right this weekend.

         Very inconvenient. But convenient.