Zen and the Art of Hunkering Down: A Personal Chronical of the Texas Power Crisis of 2021

On Sunday, Valentine's Day, I was rather anxious to finish my shift, as I knew that there would have only a short amount of daylight to complete my winter storm prep outside. I had three outdoor spigots to insulate and cover, and I did that in my usual ghetto rigging style, which included using blankets, towels, plastic bags, and large plastic containers. I even sacrificed a plastic trash barrel, slitting it up the side so that it could slide over the tall free-standing spigot, after I wrapped it in a blanket and a large plastic trash bag.

(Yup! There are wrapped and insulated water spigots hiding under those plastic tubs!)

Taking care of the plants was going to be another challenge. During the last snow storm in December 2017, part of the young sago palm in front of my patio got frostbitten. I wanted to make sure that I could protect it, but I could not locate the plastic drop cloth I had bought ages ago. But I did find a bed skirt, and threw that over the palm. (It wound up getting blown off.)

Then there were the plants in the atrium. They have survived winters in the atrium before, and I was crossing my fingers they would survive this storm. I did manage to find some plastic sheeting, which I threw over some of the plants. A couple of bedsheets covered the rest. (Unfortunately not all plants survived, but a good many did. The storm blew most of the coverings off.)

By now, it was already well past seven o'clock, which was also close to my bedtime. I set the faucets to drip, opened up the under-the-sink cabinets, poured myself a glass of wine, and settled down with a good book before calling it a night.

The next morning I woke up to this. There really wasn't much snow. However, the little snow that was on the ground was covered by a hard crust of slippery ice.

After climbing back in bed, I checked my email and came across this.

So, I climbed out of bed to turn the thermostat, which had been set at sixty-eight, down to sixty-five. Not even an hour and a half after that, it happened. The power went out.

In twenty minutes, sixty-five degrees dropped to sixty-one.

In another forty minutes, the temperature dropped another four degrees.

(Note: The time set on the thermostat is from daylight savings time. The actual time is one hour early.)

Anyhow, with it cooling down quickly, I wanted to get something warm inside of me, and I was not going to let a power outage stop me from enjoying my pot of tea. Where there is a will, there is a way. As such, I rigged up a whole bunch of tea lights to heat up my water. Granted, the water did not reach boiling, but it was still hot enough to steep my tea. And I made sure that I put my hot tea in my huge-ass insulated Buc-ee's cup so that it could stay hot all day.

Mind you, there were some folks up north who gave me a slight hard time about my not using my grill. Let me address that.

First of all, I have a charcoal grill, and there was no way I was going to fuss with that with the wind chill being one degree. With a temperature that low, the food would already be cold before I could get the platter to the door.

Speaking of doors, when there is no heat in the house, opening and closing doors during brutal subfreezing temps is not a very smart thing to do. My northern friends who love to grill in the winter have warm houses to go into once they are done grilling. They don't have to deal with having to conserve what little heat there is in the house.

Anyhow, someone commented that he bet that the ground wasn't even frozen. It was. Here I am, standing on a hard crusty layer of ice that is sitting on top of an inch and a half of snow, that is on top above what was thick mud the day before. This photo was taken on Monday morning, about an hour after the power went off.

Did I mention mud? Here I am standing on a frozen clod of mud.

Once I got back indoors, I noticed that the temperature had dropped another degree in half an hour.

How much lower can it go? It dropped another three degree in six hours. This was at 4:30 PM. 

Meanwhile, I was quite the fashion plate with my five layers of clothing.

Of course, with there being no power, I had to go charge my phone in my car in the garage.

For those folks who suggested that I open my garage door and go sit in my car to warm up, that was also a big NYET. Opening the garage door would have brought more cold air into the garage, which would have made its way into the house through the cracks in the doorframe. Just opening and closing the kitchen door to get to my car lowered the interior temperature by one degree. 

(Believe me, given the circumstances that I was faced with,  I had to think a lot of things through to determine if they were indeed appropriate for this most unusual and extreme situation.)

In addition, the fumes from the neighbor's generator were making their way into my garage AND my kitchen. So I had to stuff the cracks to make sure that neither the cold nor the CO fumes got into the house.

(For the sake of ease and efficiency, I wound up replacing all those plastic grocery bags with three pairs of old tights.)

As the day wore on, I texted back and forth with coworkers to see how they were doing. We all had to call to the workplace to see if we had to report to work the next day, and then expressed relief to learn that there was no service. 

This drill of calling the station office had to be repeated the next day, and for as many days as needed until service was restored. (For once I was grateful that I was not a supervisor, as supervisors had to report to the work to man the phones.)

It was the same story for all of us. We had no power. Power came on. And then it went off again. Some had no water. Where I live, the water plant became nonoperational due to the extreme cold and no power. I was one of the lucky ones who had water. But the pressure was so low that it was barely a trickle. 

Along with the no power there was spotty internet and sluggish phone service. Social media would not load. News apps would not update. Text messages failed to send, and never mind trying to send photos. 

(I did, however, learn that there was a "window" at around five in the morning where I could access Facebook and the rest of the internet. But as the day progressed, electronic traffic got bottlenecked, pretty much like cars trying to drive to Cape Cod for the Fourth of July holiday.)

With folks being isolated and hunkered down in their homes, and unable to easily access the outside world through their devices, it was as though Mother Nature was really serious about everyone maintaining social distancing to the extreme.

Anyhow, dark had descended. There was still no power, and I wondered what sort of cold I would wake up to. But I had prepared for that by digging out a couple of sleeping bags and a couple of extra fleece blankets. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. Just like my hot pot of tea, I was not going to give up my nightly ritual of settling down to enjoy a glass of wine while reading a good book. Except this night I was going to be reading by candlelight...

...until it was time to hunker down and crawl into the sleeping bag that I placed under the covers on my bed.

When I woke up the following morning, on Tuesday, I was warm and comfy in my sleeping bag. But when I stepped out from out that cocooning warmth, my body was assaulted by the cold air. It was so cold that Kane's teeth were actually chattering. I never heard a dog's teeth chatter before. And no wonder! It was 43 degrees in the house! 

Because it was too cold for even the dogs, they all got sweaters. Kane got to wear an actual sweater, one that my mother had knit for me while I was still in college, and much closer to Kane's weight.

The other dogs received makeshift sweaters that were large crocheted squares that I tied to their bodies with yarn.

Alice, being the rambunctious young'un that she is, quickly tore hers. (This photo was taken before she tore her "sweater.") 

Kane wound up having to get a new "sweater" after he wet the bottom of his original sweater when he went outside to pee.

One of the things I did during this extended outage was focus on my artwork. I was working on a drawing of the sunrise that I would see while operating my train. In order to get the gradation of colors that I was seeking, I was using a pointillist technique (which is very time-intensive when using fine-tipped pens). Before long, the tap-tap-tap tattoo of the pen on the paper, along with the drip-drip-drip of the water dropped me into a Zenlike state where my mind began wander.

     

Thoughts wandered.

The homeless that I see often spend a good part of the day snug in their sleeping bags. I could see why. It's so hard to want to leave that embracement of warmth to face the harshness beyond.

It's much easier to stir after the sun has come up. Even the slight warmth of the sun's rays enough to make a big difference.

All those layers. No wonder they stay on and don't come off for days and weeks on end. 

Going to the bathroom in the cold is unimaginable. Imagine having to strip off all those layers to wipe oneself. No wonder many of them smell. Do I smell?

...tap...tap...tap...

The generator next door is churning away. I'll be hearing it all day long. It belches its noxious fumes that try to make their way into my house. But I won't let them in.

...drip...drip...drip...

It's cold, colder than anything I've ever experienced before indoors. But I'm feeling great. I'm amazed that I'm not feeling worse. I'm feeling strong and healthy. And I am SO grateful for that.

I'm so grateful for my ability to improvise. I'm grateful for my ability to adapt. I'm not some doddering old lady, but a veritable badass chingona.

I'm not going to do anything that will endanger me or my pets. I will get through this.

...tap...tap...tap... 

The dogs, they're so confused and clingy. They don't understand why it's so cold inside. They see their human, and she's not following the familiar routine. Every time I go to the garage to charge my cellphone in my car, they get excited. They follow me and try to get in my car.

How can I explain to them what's going on? How can I assure them that they will be warm again?

...drip...drip...drip... 

Next week it'll be in the seventies. In another month or two this will be a memory.

How long will this last? No matter how long it last, I will prevail.

This could be much worse. And I'm grateful that it's not. I am grateful that I have what it takes to make it through this. I come from tough stock.

My mother, when she was a teenager during World War II, was put on a freight car, along with the rest of the townsfolk, and shipped off to Germany, where she and the others had to work on the railroads. Everyone slept on the freight car. It was winter, and so bitterly cold that she woke up with her face frozen to the side of the freight car. She survived. And if she could survive that, then I certainly can survive forty three degrees in the house. And I could even survive if it dropped down lower.

So yeah, I'm tough too. I'm strong. I'm resilient. I will prevail. That is just simple fact.

...tap...tap...tap... 

Thoughts wandered. They went in circles. They doubled back on each other. And I was at peace.

As the day drew on, the house warmed up to fifty-one.

In the meantime, I was really very excited to have found my head flashlight, and even more excited to have had the proper size batteries for it. Woot! Woot! What was really great was that I no longer had to read by candlelight. 

Power came back on while I was reading, some thirty six hours into the outage. I could hear the furnace kicking on, and soon I felt the heat blowing through the vent. I went to sleep with the anticipation of enjoying a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs.

When I woke up the following morning, I went to switch on the light, only to discover that it pulling the chain had no effect. My phone did not display the green battery and lightning bolt icon to indicate that it was plugged in to a power source. The phone had only charged to eighty-six percent before the power cut out. But at least the house was a balmy fifty degrees.

Going into the garage to charge my phone, I noticed puddles on the ground. That often happened when there would be heavy rains. But it was not raining all that heavily. Then I heard the sound of dripping water. Following the sound with my ears, I saw that a pipe had burst at the elbow joint near the ceiling. (That also explained that loud bang I heard in the garage the day before.) 

Fortunately, the break occurred after the shutoff valve. Not only that, it was a very minor line that was hardly used. Another fortuitous thing was that because the local water plant was still nonoperational, there was very little water pressure. As such, there was very little mess. All I had to do was to throw down some rags so that when the water froze, I would not be slipping on glare ice.

My next door neighbors were not as fortunate. Their pipes broke. Their house was a mess. And they had no water. Being island folk, who have never experienced such extreme conditions, they did not know how to prepare for them. I had my faucets cracked, and was able to avoid such a costly and inconvenient mess.  

Even though it was much warmer in the house than yesterday, Yoda was staying put under the covers. He did not like me dragging him out from under the covers. He liked it even less when I put him outside to go pee, especially since it was raining. But when he realized that I was not going to let him back in, he did his business. And what a full tank he had!

Throughout this whole situation, as I refuse to consider it an "ordeal," I treated it as though I was engaged in winter camping, which I tried once and did not enjoy. As such, it was no big deal to be subsisting upon nuts and dried fruit, along with some fresh fruit as well. 

The day warmed up only by one degree. The interior temperature topped out at fifty one. It was a dreary and overcast day, and I felt chilled sitting by the window working on my sketch. So I went into my dark bedroom instead, where I lit my candles and was going to do some writing before engaging in my nightly ritual (which was not going to include the usual adult beverage, as it was the start of my annual nutritional detox and reset). 

As I was writing, the lights came on after an extended fifty-five-hour outage. I was guarded in my optimism. They flickered once, maybe twice, and they stayed on. When it seemed that the power would stay on, the two big dogs had their "sweaters" taken off.

When I went into the kitchen, I heard a weird noise. It took me awhile to figure out that was the refrigerator running.

 

Cooking Palooza: Cricket Flour Pancakes

Cricket pancakes?????

I know what all ya'll are thinking. And don't be haters.

It's interesting to see folks getting their knickers twisted in a knot over eating bugs, and yet not bat an eyelash over all the mystery meat scraps from dubious sources and marginal amounts of rat shit approved by the FDA found in the all-American hotdogs they like to chow down. 

Insects are eaten all over the world. They are a sustainable source of high protein. And adopting the habit of eating insects would have a positive impact on the environment as it would reduce the need for resources that are consumed and not easily replenished in large livestock farming.

Anyhow, I was looking for a source of high density protein to help fuel me through my long workday, where I easily go for 8 hours in between meals. So I set about researching what sort of high density protein was available. 

And I found Bud's Cricket Power 100% Pure Cricket Powder. (FYI: It's actually a dollar cheaper on this site than on Amazon.)

People have asked me how cricket powder (which is finely ground up whole crickets) tastes and what kind of texture it has. Just like the multiple sources online that describe the taste and texture of cricket powder, I can verily concur that it is extremely mild in taste, with a very slight nutty flavor. The texture is very fine, but not the sort of "fine" you would find in white flour.

The next step was to find a recipe that I could try, using the cricket powder. The Cricket Flour Pancakes and Waffles recipe seemed promising. So I decided to give that a go. It called for chia seeds, another source of high protein, and that was fine by me.

Let's get cooking!

The first part of the recipe called for whirring the eggs, chia seeds, cricket powder, ghee, and powdered cinnamon in a blender at medium speed until everything was blended into something that resembled a batter.

The next step was to let the batter sit for about ten to fifteen minutes to let the chia seeds congeal and do their thing. Because I didn't want to go through the hassle of cleaning out stuck-on chia seeds off the blades of my Vitamix, I poured the mixture into a small bowl, where it could sit for the allotted time.

(And while it was sitting, I was frying up some bacon in the pan, as well as some Bilinski's Organic WIld Mushroom with Italian Herbs Chicken Sausages.) 

Once the meat was all cooked up and removed from the pan, I had a nice puddle of bacon grease for cooking the pancakes.

The recipe mentioned that these pancakes cook up just like regular pancakes, but did not give any cooking times. Well, when regular pancake cook, you can see the bubbles rising to the surface that lets you know that it's time to flip the pancake. The chia seed batter is a bit too dense for that to occur. So I had to summon my inner Jedi and use the Force to determine when was the proper time to flip those buggers.

Mind you, these pancakes aren't going to cook up light and airy like a usual pancake. The recipe was for three servings, but it didn't mention how many pancakes that would make. I wound up making four fat pancakes, with the fourth one being a bit smaller than the others.

I put two pancakes on my plate and set the rest aside. 

Not being one who cares much for maple syrup, I was really looking forward to having my pancakes with St Dalfour Red Raspberry Fruit Spread, which I love because it contains no added sugar. (I found it, and other St Dalfour fruits spreads at my local H-E-B.)

Here's breakfast! 

(Blueberries were on sale at H-E-B for $1.77 for an eighteen-ounce container. I couldn't resist, so I bought two containers!)

Now for the moment of truth.

The pancakes were tasty. And they were dense as I expected. In fact, I could not finish my breakfast and had to pack it up to save for tomorrow morning.

Overall, this wasn't a bad recipe. And it's one that I may make again.

Cooking Palooza: Unusual Culinary Adventures On Thanksgiving While Flying Solo

For the first time in six years, I have Thanksgiving off. I was originally hoping to spend it with my daughter and her boyfriend. But due to logistical issues, plus COVID-19, I am flying solo.

The irony is quite amusing. And mind you, I am not bothered in the least. As much as I enjoy the company of my loved ones, I've also always been a lone wolf who's very much comfortable with just her own company.

I have an entire universe in my head, so I am NEVER lonely. (And it's also why doing this COVID-19 social distancing is incredibly easy for me.)

Having said that, I was actually quite ecstatic about embarking on a new culinary adventure for Thanksgiving ~ one that would have me deviating far away from the traditional New England style turkey dinner that I have been long accustomed to ~ and venturing into unknown culinary territory. 

(Dang! That was a long sentence!)

It's a good thing that Thanksgiving is not a sacred cow for me. That gives me license to play with my food. Booyah!

But enough said. Let's get cracking with the Cooking Palooza!

The star of the show is a Chili-Rubbed Turkey, which is quite the dramatic departure from the type of Thanksgiving turkey that I've known all my life.

It was a good thing that I read the entire recipe all the way through well before executing it, as this recipe required much preparation. The first thing I had to do was to make the chili paste on the morning before Thanksgiving.

Three cups of the chili paste was going into the brining bath, along with all those cans of Tecate. (And no, those cans were not for the chef. However, I did swill down one can last night to see how it tasted, and I was greatly relieved that it was much more passable than that weasel piss known as "Bud Light.")

The turkey is now happily swimming in its intoxicated and chili-ated briny bath. The next stage of the operation will take place well past midnight, when the bird gets a rubdown with the rest of the chili paste. 

After placing the brining bucket in the fridge, the next item to focus on was the Mexican Turkey Stuffing. This recipe called for tons of ingredients and required lots of prep. Just look at the mise en place for this undertaking!

Holy moly! I'm not even halfway through the mise, and already Big Bertha is starting to buckle at the seams!

Dayum!

Just look at all that food! I can now see why the Mexican Turkey Stuffing recipe said to give it a good stir halfway through,

and to not discard the foil after the first stirring!

And here it is!

I did give it a taste. (In fact, I had a bit for a light late lunch).

The verdict?

It's definitely "different," But not in a bad way. It's just that having grown up with the New England style savory stuffing, the flavor combinations in this stuffing are very unfamiliar.

Also, it didn't taste "Mexican" in the familiar Mexican restaurant sort of way.

I was hoping for a more savory taste. But with all the fruit, it's definitely more on the sweet side. But it's not bad.

But it's also not "Holy moly! I gotta make this again!" great either.

Who knows? Maybe I'll learn to love this stuffing. And believe me, this recipe made a lot of stuffing, so I'm going to get a lot of practice in learning how to love it!

We'll see how well it goes with the rest of the feast foods. Perhaps I'll discover that the sweetness is a nice counterbalance to the Chili-Rubbed Turkey.

Finally, finally, FINALLY the moment had arrived when the bird was done sitting in its intoxicated briny bath and was ready for the chili paste rubdown.

After rubbing it down ~ a really messy process ~ I put the bird in the fridge, where it was to chill overnight. And after finally getting out of my food spattered clothing, I was able to get into my sleepy clothes, and do my own chilling with a glass of wine and a good book.

Morning had arrived. I stuffed the cavity with onion, garlic, and fresh oregano. And I was thrilled to have on hand exactly the needed two cups of homemade turkey stock, which I used in place of the specified chicken broth (which was not as flavorful as my own homemade stock).

Into the oven you go, you dirty bird!

After I threw the bird in the oven to roast, I set about finishing up the Hatch Chili Cornbread Stuffing, which was another one of those "let sit overnight" recipes. However, because it is already past hatch pepper season, I substituted Poblano peppers for Hatch peppers. And as an afterthought, I also threw in three jalapeños. 

And dang it! This baby has heat! That's more like it!

No Thanksgiving is complete without sweet potatoes. And for this Southwest-inspired Thanksgiving, I made Chipotle Mashed Sweet Potatoes. 

I had some leftover black beans from the freezer and some leftover fresh corn. But dammit! I neglected to pick up some cilantro at the supermercado.

But have no fear! It's PC Willy's Green Chili Rub & Seasoning to the rescue! (Thank you, Ted!)

I wasn't planning on having just plain ol' spuds. But I happened to realize that I been neglecting these poor shriveling buggers. So into the pan they went, seasoned only with roasted garlic pink Himalayan salt and Nepalese Timut pepper.  

Ah! The eagle...

...er...

the turkey has landed!

Meanwhile, this reduction is taking forever!

It's the last thing that stands in the way of me enjoying my Thanksgiving meal.

Fuck it! I'm stopping at one an a quarter cups! I wanna eat! What's an extra quarter cup anyhow?

Finally! The moment of truth!

<making obscene noises of gastronomical satisfaction>

Don't forget to make room for dessert!

This pecan pie is the only menu item that I did not make.

And here I am, enjoying it with a splash of Appleton Estate Rare Blend Jamaican Rum, which I also did not make.

All in all, this was a very fine Thanksgiving meal. And whereas I was a bit worried about the Mexican Turkey Stuffing's sweetness, it was all for naught, as all of the dishes came together in a beautiful synergy of flavors that I would certainly not mind enjoying again!