Last night, very late I watched your movie "The Hobbit".
To be honest, it was against my better judgement and because there was nothing else to watch. And I LOVED it so very much. Especially the part, about 10 minutes till then end, when an actual fireball from the guts of Mordor...that is what it is called, right? ...exploded outside my window.
I shit you not.
Where are the lady warrior dwarves?
Why the lady dwarves gotta get things with buckets and make dwarf dinners? I know lady warrior dwarves don't exist in the, let's just be frank here, slightly misogynistic Tolkien tomes, yes...I used "misogynist" and "tome" in the same sentence. BUT since he was creating a totally new world why can't YOU make some of the dwarves ladies, ass kickers, too?
Well, there is that Galadriel but sometimes she stands and just looks pretty while not moving her mouth but you can hear her words.
AND she is not really a literal ass kicker...sort of a metaphysical one...and she is an elf.
I hope you don't mind.
I never mind when people give ME constructive criticism.
Like from "Lord of the Rings" but not a movie and 100 feet from my fucking house.
I got my land line...dead, goofus.
I picked up my cell...what was the emergency number again?
Oh ya, 911. Goofus.
"What is your emergency?"
I tell her the entire story...including that I was watching "The Hobbit" because you are nothing as a storyteller if you don't include ALL the facts.
Then I stood there, in the dark, with the dogs howling...and watched the tree and lines spark and burn...holy lord.
I see the hydro and fire department show up...and proceed to dial the number of one, Ron Kennell, who lives a few houses from me...I KNOW it is about 2:20am now...but he had sent me an email about 45 minutes before...I WAS FREAKING OUT, OKAY!?!?
George is away, so I am by my lonesome.
He was very kind...it was about this time I see a flood light beaming through my window...the dogs are now barking even louder...and I realize that there is neither the time nor the light to pen them up properly so I go out the front door and close it JUST SHORT of locking myself out (somewhere, the universe said, "Lord, let's give this poor woman a fucking break...don't let her lock herself outside. Thank you, Universe...it is appreciated...but can you please tell Mother Nature...just while you are up there...to SUCK MY ASS!?!?) so I am holding the door and looking at two 18 year old police men.
Swear to god.
And I ask them if they located the power line that started the fire.
Opie: "Did you call 911, mam?"
Me: "Uh, ya." (I am all over excited...this bears mentioning)
Opie: "What is your name and your date of birth?"
Me: "YOU are cheeky."
This is about the time that they started to treat me like I was drunk.
Me: "I called in the electrical fire."
Opie 2: "Oh, is there anyone in your house who needs help?"
Me: "No, just a bunch of riled up dogs...who have licsences."
Opie: "So, everything is okay, mam?"
Me: "Yes...everything but the electrical fire that is happening in my backyard."
I am all afronted that they thought I was drunk.
I look out back...the fire is out...the hydro people are there...we need to go to bed...so I try take the dogs out back and they won't go...WOULD YOU?
So, I touch Tyson's ruff (the fur around his neck) and try to lead him out back...this is enough to make him go anywhere...and we both put feet on the deck and promptly fell on out asses...I gots bruises and TDog seems to have sprained his ankle.
So, I manage to get Tyson upstairs...he lets me 'sort of' carry him. Let me add, if you don't know already, that he is 120 pounds.
So, I get us, Cassie, TDog and myself tucked in.
I take a sleeping pill...yes...I do...and I am NOT ashamed.
I convince myself, again, that I am NOT afraid of the dark.
And the beeping begins.
So loud in the absolute quiet.
Gollum of the Fire Detectors.
Sporadic and piercing and bothersome as fuck.
"Come, my precious, come and dig around in maybe-live wires...come and tell me a riddle of the mysterious beeping...come and...well, you get the picture..."
Well, they ARE all hard wired...so...huh...
What to do?
Ask Facebook...it is 3:00am and a bunch of people are up...of course.
I love Facebook.
In case you didn't guess that already.
I tell Facebook my tale...much like I am doing right now but with more spelling mistakes and auto corrects because it is on my IPHONE and the fucking keypad is bullshit.
It just is, people.
Michael wanted to know if the cops were hot.
Tober, in the UK, suggested that we all eat cake. (perfect)
Well wishes from Anne Marie in Scotland.
My pal Karen, from down the street offered to run down some ear plugs. GOD bless her. She also sent me her number so we could chat...which we did.
A lot of fire alarm advice...which was wonderful...
Then, I googled the shit out of it.
And THEN, in the pitch black, I went down to the basement, got the ladder and Macgiver'd the SHIT out of that alarm.
I know it is a small thing...but...I could not have been more proud.
I fell into a drug induced sleep.
And woke to the other two alarms beeping.
Thanks to all for you support.
What a night!
It is amazing the people who will come to your rescue at 3:00am.
From all over the world.
I am a very lucky, crazy, NOT DRUNK gal.
Oh...and this was one of my fave lines in the Facebook thread about the explosion/911 call/cop visit/dog injury/detector MacGiver times:
Well, thank you to Sharon Heldt...for sending a NEW PERSON my way!
HELLO ANNE COOPER!!!
I promptly replied to this (and some other responses to the thread)
GOOD DAY TO ALL!!! ZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz......