What have I done to piss off the Universe?

The hits just keep on comin'.

My husband called me last Friday while I was out shopping to let me know we had a huge problem with the power supplying our water pump. I cut my trip short and came home to be of whatever support I could.

Everything came together somewhat magically and we had running water again by the end of the day. It took a lot of coordination and effort and manpower, but we now have a telephone pole holding up the electrical box and meter, and it all worked well.

Until Tuesday night, when we noticed the water pressure was weak. In the light of yesterday we went to the site and – eventually – discovered a burnt-out wire. It was most likely damaged when the original, inadequate pole fell on Friday. But it took a few days to actually fail, giving us quite the false sense of security.

So no water yesterday while we figured out what was wrong and what we needed to do to fix it. And no water today while we gather the materials and coordinate the manpower. And maybe – MAYBE – we'll have water tomorrow.

One of my Facebook friends commented over there that perhaps we needed to move to civilization.

That's an EXCELLENT suggestion.

Know anyone who wants to buy a lovely home in the country with, um, water issues?

What else? About a month ago my husband approached me with the idea that he might like to learn how to use one of those tablet things. You know, move into the 21st century. Embrace the technology. He has since gone on an anti-technology rant at least once a week. I might be adding his Kindle (Merry Christmas, honey!) to my arsenal of devices.

Also, I spent a lot of time and effort gathering a bunch of Indian spices and spice mixes to give my sister for Christmas, who adores Indian cuisine. Along with her thanks, she said she didn't know where to find any of the other ingredients she would need to make the recipes. I'm a by-guess-and-by-golly kind of cook. If the directions say add blah-blah-blah, and I only have chicken broth on hand, by golly I'll use chicken broth.

She, apparently, goes by the book and was just a little less grateful than I thought she'd be. Oh, well. Those were my expectations. Once the gift is out of my hands I can't do anything about it. But believe me, she's getting a check next year.

There are other things I won't or can't go into, and so it's time to dig deep and come up with something positive upon which to end this drivel.

Did I ever write about the two boys our Amish neighbors were fostering? (I can't find any past record of it if I did.) The couple who had the boys also owned the bakery. Melissa (the wife/mom) is my friend who died last summer. At the time she died, she and her husband were fostering four siblings, but prior to that they'd had two brothers for nearly nine months. The state decided the biological mother had turned her life around and the boys were sent back to her just before they were about to be adopted.

Which devastated Simon and Melissa, but within a couple days the new children arrived. Only to be removed when Melissa died.

Leaving Simon quite alone.

Well, when I picked up the little Amish girls to go to school Monday morning, I heard the news that the two little brothers are back with Simon. Their mom's addiction was apparently stronger than her affection for her children. Which is sad, yes, but we're all so happy for Simon and the boys.

So, yes, the hits do keep on coming, as hits are wont to do.

But the Universe has a way of evening things out.

P.S. At least I don't have to do laundry. Or dishes. So YAY for that!

Unplugged

I won't be converting to Amish anytime soon (um, make that ever), but I had a good, interesting, enjoyable and (most important) comfortable time on my little getaway to north central Pennsylvania.

We were near Le Raysville, an area where natural gas drillers are moving in and chasing the Amish out. The truck traffic is increasing and it's becoming less and less safe for horse-and-buggy travel. My neighbor's father and his wife will be moving to Wisconsin later this month.

The purpose of our trip was for my neighbor to collect some of her late mother's things. Amazingly, everything fit in the car and nothing had to be shipped back to West Virginia. She was very happy about that, but the trip was bittersweet for her.

After my initial shock at not having reliable cell service and no wi-fi unless I drove to Towanda – more than 25 miles from my host's home – I settled into the simple life. I napped. I read part of A History of the Amish. I drove (that was, after all, my job) over many, many, many one-lane dirt and gravel roads.

I met some of the kindest, friendliest and nicest people, but after my experience with our own Amish neighbors, I expected nothing less.

Every home I was in had hot and cold running water and indoor plumbing. I was certainly more grateful for that than anything else. I was prepared for more primitive amenities, but so glad it didn't come to that.

Two solar panels keep this Amish
family's freezer and refrigerator running.

Two things really stood out for me. One was that my host family (my neighbor's sister) had SOLAR PANELS on the roof of their more-than-a-century-old house. OH, YES THEY DID. Two small panels are enough to keep a freezer and refrigerator working. The freezer is in an attached garage, while the refrigerator and packaged foods are in a little pantry off the kitchen. All of the home-canned goods are stored in the basement, and you wouldn't believe how much space that takes up.

The other thing was how very few toys the children have. My grandchildren have rooms full of plastic gadgets that light up and make noise. Amish children have books and dolls and toy horses. Lots of toy horses.

Lilah and Marlene, heading off to
play in their grandfather's barn.

I spent quite a bit of time with another of my neighbor's sisters and her two little girls, a five-year-old and a three-year-old. (Both of them were adorable and I wanted to take pictures so badly, but thought it would be rude. I found out too late that it's fine to take candid photographs, but not posed ones.) The girls played with each other, doing imaginary chores and riding imaginary horses. They were never whiny or cross.

At church Sunday night, two little boys about the same ages as the girls patiently sat with their mother through a long singing session, never once fidgeting or needing to be entertained or fed or scolded. Compared to English children, Amish children are amazingly self-sufficient. I think probably my father and his sisters were raised similarly, except maybe they didn't have as many books.

There's a lot more rattling around my brain about the trip. I'm sure there will be another post or two. For right now, I'm glad to be home.

And I'm glad I went.