Letters from Nikolaevsk

Annitta

12-18-98 PM -- Christmas lights

Hi from the suspiciously quiet village:

Carol Channing didn't quack her way over today and hang out in the shed. No pussems stuck cold flat noses against windows to spy on the paranoid Schnauser and the birds. No calf bawled its way to the school following the little girls. No snowmachines with their whirring sounds, and no Ivan driving by Fred's to see if any of his wayward pigeons are on enemy territory.

They did something. They are guilty as sure as there is snow on the rooftop. Hubby was right.

Hubby tried to tell us, but would we listen? Noooo. Dave and grandson and I had to spend a week putting up lights. Lights on the dead bushes coming up the drive, outlined the garage, the porch, the outside window, the basketball hoop, the back of the house, the inside windows, the tree standing proudly in the upstairs living room, and the finishing touch: the lights that play thirty Christmas songs are proudly displayed on the front door and could probably be heard at Photini's front door. Ever see National Lampoon's Christmas? Well, this house is probably in second place.

We had agreed not to turn the lights on until Christmas Eve..sure. Anyone ever tell a thirteen year old they had to wait for something?

Jason hit the switch. Last night. Fred, Gregg, Alec, Nina, Dan, Luba, Ivan, and Jacob lost power. Now, I'm not saying it was a direct result of our lights or that we caused a burn out. However, the strangest thing happened, our lights stayed on. In fact, we were probably seen on the mountains by the ever-so-secretive Vietnam Vets Who Hide Out And Raise BIG Dogs With BIG Teeth and Who Live In Small Cabins with Many BIG Guns. They probably thought the Russians had revolted.

Less than an hour later, everyone who lost power had power. Then the strangest thing: our power went out. Somehow it makes perfect sense... I don't know how, it just does. Justice I suppose. It took less than thirty minutes and our lights were back on -- minus the holiday cheer of red and blue bulbs. They refuse to come on.

I figure the Russians did something they weren't suppose to do. Maybe cut a wire somewhere on the zillion lights, or remove a few bulbs. It would take until next Christmas to check all the little lights. That's alright, wait until the street light comes in that I ordered from Homer electric.

So, they are all hiding today. Even Carol Channing. No bells, no snowmachines, no little girls.

Quiet. Too quiet.

But, be of good cheer, Jason hooked five extension cords together and ran them up the stairs to the hallway and plugged in. The Christamas light bells that play music are working.

There, that'll show 'em...

Now, what are we going to do with those Vietnam vets?

Bless,

annitta
from downtown quiet and it's tough to be a lonely pagan, Nikolaevsk