Many apologies, folks, for the lateness of this post. We would have been posting yesterday, were it not for the fact that yesterday here in Stiletto Flats, Nevada, we were out of juice. No power. The electricity was not forthcoming.
Now for a while Michael (the resident 'boffin' of the group) has been trying to build a self-contained off-grid power backup system, involving solar, wind, wave motion and more solar, thermal heat pumps and geodesic domes. He'll occasionally hole up in his workshop and can be heard tinkering around and occasionally shouting when he hurts himself, all the while listening to the strains of Mantovani, which he says helps him to think straight. The other day I poked my head round the door while he was at the donut shop gathering, ahem, supplies, and snapped a picture of what I saw.
Anyhoo, so yesterday the power went out and Michael's jimmy-rigging did not kick in, so naturally I went outside to check if it was just us or the whole neighborhood. Darn the luck. Everyone else was still on, from Marissa's Home For Wayward Showgirls to Vincent Tran's House O'Pho. So, Clark checked the fuse box. Nope, he says. Everything looks kosher. So, admitting defeat, we decided to call in the pros.
We tried every electrician's number in the Stiletto Flats phonebook. To be honest, there were only three. No answer, too busy, closed for vacation, you know the story. Until on the back of the book I see a full-page glossy ad for "A-1 Kwik Kwality Sparky Corp. Inc. and Co. Ltd." Sounded legit. No working phone number, but an address. I thought I'd pay them a call.
When I got there, this was the scene that presented itself to me.
I'll let the others tell you what the meaning of all this was, and how we got our power back on. Meantime, ciao.