When I was Little I thought the neatest thing that could happen was to suddenly have to go back and live in Laura Ingalls Wilder times. There was something so wonderful and clean and romantic about having to wash your clothes with a scrub board, about sewing all your own clothing, about growing and/or killing anything you wanted to eat, about dealing with croup and pneumonia with no medicine or doctor. So, Anna Poe and I made a pact that when we were older and had our own homes we were so totally going to live as if we were pioneer women. Covered wagons, foot petal sewing machines, churns, the works.
And I would just like to stop here and point out that Anna is so not holding up her end of the deal. And I so am.
Then we grew up and had babies and pretended we had never even heard of Laura Ingalls Wilder. We're such weanies.
All of this to say that from about 4pm to 10 pm last night we didn't have electricity. It blew. It's hard, this roughing it. We had to go out to eat for supper. The thought! We even had to watch movies on our lap top, for crying out loud. And it only had 39% battery left so we were really starting to sweat. And my babies were sick and there was no doctor here. Oh, but there was Amoxicillan.
I'll shut up now.