As it stands, we only had one glass broken and someone left the water running in the bar sink. There's a stain on the carpet over by the Mapplethorpe but that happens a lot in that corner for some reason.
In reading back I wish I hadn't used the comment equating a broad, broad term like pacifism with non-ownership of guns, because that leads to the opposite 'self-defense=ownership of guns', which is 1. spectacularly inaccurate and 2. shitty logic on my part. I'm supposed to know how to develop an argument better than that.
Here's what I got out of it.
I think there's something to be learned from the Brits. There's got to be something fundamentally different-and saner- about they way they approach living in a group. We don't feel safe. A significant percentage of the British population DO. I find that extremely interesting and you should too.
Any of y'all Brits who might want to do a post on this, let me know. I'll give you three days up on my blog, either your link or your actual post.
We had a windstorm yesterday that knocked out the power for at least 16 hours. This was as bad a go as I've ever seen here; tropical storm level winds, pieces of other peoples' barns cartwheeling past, small trees lying almost parallel to the ground and large trees broken off halfway. I sat in the front window and watched thousands of bright yellow alder leaves bounding and tumbling across the field across the street, rushing straight toward me. The grass lay flat and glittered. The only birds out were seagulls, who know how to enjoy a good storm, and small ducks, which do not.
At the best of times a small duck is not a real aerodynamic little guy, so why, in the middle of a near-hurricane force blow, they should suddenly decide to take to the air is beyond me. Still, there they were, flapping their little wings to beat sixty, all steadfastly aimed in the same direction and yet blowing sideways and and around in circles like chips in a current of water.
...of course, you eat a baby this size you won't be flying anywhere.
The gulls dipped and dove and tumbled and sailed all around them. Probably giving them a bad time. "OO hey, be careful, you guys! Hey! Where ya headed, guys? Hey! You guys need a map?" That sort of thing.
This morning the power is back on and the sun is out. Yesterday afternoon many of the main roads were blocked by fallen trees; today I'd be surprised if there were more than three that remained impassable. Most everyone who lives out here has learned to carry a chainsaw in the car all fall and winter. Practically as soon as a tree hits the pavement there's three guys stopped in the road, sawing it into chunks and winching them over to the side of the street.
Public works was on the ball. They don't get nearly the attention they deserve for what they do for us out here in the stickerbushes. They had crews out all day in the middle of the worst.
Imagine being up in a boom truck, 25 feet over the pavement, during 60 mph winds in sideways rain, trying to dodge half of a Douglas fir swinging around, all tangled up in live power lines. That, my friends, would be fucked up.
Would I do it? I would not. Well I might, if they'd let me take the boom truck home at night.