The predicted storm for our area hit around three on Friday afternoon, and our power went out first thing.  I thought it would be kind of fun.  I lighted candles around the house, Wayne opened a bottle of wine, and we snuggled up in front of the fireplace.

The tranquility lasted all of fifteen minutes, when Wayne asked me what I intended to do about dinner.  (My husband needs a few lessons on how to be romantic  . . . )  I suggested reservations,  and we eventually did end up dining out, thanks to our daughter.  Since Wayne and I intended to have a glass of wine, Jody drove.  By the time we returned home it was nine o’clock,  and the power still wasn’t back.  In fact, electricity didn’t return until around seven Saturday morning. By then I’d made a startling discovery about myself.  I am no Laura Ingles Wilder!