Powerless? You have no idea!

Had a tough time getting to sleep last night, for Linda and I have become avid nappers during the weekend. Part of the napping was brought on by the fact that on Saturday night, anyway, it was too darn hot to sleep out at the cottage (we don't have AC or a fan out there). And while a beautifully cool breeze was coming in the bedroom window for a while, it soon was carrying heavy, choking levels of woodsmoke, courtesy of some "neighbors" who were likely sittin' round the campfire with a case of beer. Or two.

How do I know this? Three guesses. (Ah, Karma, you are a boomerang!)

The other naps were brought on by exhaustion, which in turn was brought on by trying to placate Linus, our 95-pound German shepherd who is convinced the WORLD IS COMING TO AN END every time he hears a rumble of thunder. As it has been thundering and lightening around here like mad lately, the poor mutt is just about at his wit's end.

As are we.

Yesterday, the storm not only sent Linus into spasms, but cut our power. Linda had some pork marinating in the fridge, so it was clearly grill time. Unfortunately, it was also monsoon time, and our backyard has no protection from the rain, so Linda had the ingenious idea of dragging our little Webber to the front of the house, where our garage roof overhangs just far enough to protect it from the deluge. She fired up the grill and made a delicious feast of grilled pork and a spinach/chick pea mixture that was sheer heaven. Even though the power came on just before the food was ready, we stayed outside and sat in plastic chairs under the overhang and had a little picnic while the sky flashed, rumbled, and poured before us. A little scary, but a lot of fun.

Our neighbors two doors over had the same idea, and it reminded me of going to the drive-in, for some reason. Instead of sitting in our cars watching a movie, we sat outdoors watching the storm. Something sweet about it, dunno what. (No, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately, why do you ask?)

In my insomnia last night, I found myself thinking about my parents. Specifically, how they kept up to date on current events where politics, government, and world affairs were concerned, they didn't really keep up with a lot of cultural events. In fact, I am pretty sure my father stopped noticing trends in his 30s--which means his culture was stuck pretty much in the 1940s.

While I have no qualms with his taste in music (he, too, was a big fan of Ella Fitzgerald), he was stuck in ways that perplexed me. For instance, he never adopted any foods that weren't around when he was a young man. Pizza, for one prime example, was "cardboard." For another example, poor Mother tried serving him a rice pilaf with dinner (instead of potatoes) one night, and he left the house. Just left.

My mother, bless her heart, tried much harder to keep up, if only to understand what her children were nattering on about. She often succeeded, but sometimes she just couldn't keep up. My favorite example, one I will cherish always, is that to the day she died she thought I slept on a tofu and ate futon. She also enjoyed using the term "Happening" long, long after the 60s coinage was in vogue.

My 12-years-older brother has shown some signs of this phenomenon, as he is one of those people who believe no decent music was made after 1969. (He also left the house when my mother served the pilaf: Surprised?)

Which, of course, leads me to worry that parts of my cultural currency may be lapsing into irrelevancy. Not that I think it's seemly for an older person to embrace younger culture just because it's young--that verges on the pathetic. But I would like to think I would be open to new cultural developments that are better than those of my generation or those before--say, the young culture's equivalent of pizza, whatever that may be.

And no, it's not rap.