The power to our house has been out for 7 cold-and-getting-colder nights since what has been called Windpocolypse – the worst wind storm since the grid went up, folks. That’s 126 years of crossing fingers that it wouldn’t happen. Someone forgot to say their prayers so we have been nomadic this last week. We rather enjoyed the first night. We soaked up the last of the warmth from our heater’s working day while we ate deli sandwiches by a cozy fire among flickering tealights. I told our children the Family Story – how we got from two kids in love to 5 people and a dog. We cuddled and giggled…
A fundamentalist turned freedom chaser with an obnoxiously stubborn faith.