Isabel raged through Pennsylvania last night and into today, leaving behind downed trees on top of downed power lines, almost a million people without power (apparently 4.5 million throughout the middle Atlantic states), floods, school closings and a seemingly random set of traffic lights that aren't working (the flow of traffic through these intersections seems to work just as well with the four-way stop signs as it does with the lights functioning, except the occasional asshole who decides that the stop signs contain fine print that states "does not apply to the dickhead in the 1987 rust-laden Pontiac with obscene lyrics pounding out of the unsecured speakers lying in the back window"). We lost power at 7:30 last night and it didn't reappear until 4:20 this morning when all of the electronic devices in the house beeped back to life and the alarm system started trilling a shrill cacophony of high-pitched noises that were the auditory equivalent of a cattle prod, requiring me to race into the hallway and attempt to read the control panel to silence the screeching.

Today we were left with lots of leaves in the pool, the two big storage containers that keep the outdoor cushions safe from wind and rain lying open, lids blown off, sodden cushions scattered about the grass. The power went out again today for a few hours, forcing Rebecca to come into work with my husband so that she could use our Internet connection to talk with her friends. I wonder where she gets that need to be electronically linked from?

There is political intrigue of unprecedented proportions swirling around at work, distracting and diverting our attention. What is it that causes this need for secrecy and prevarication? Is it the insatiable desire for more control, more power, more influence, a more defined legacy?

Yesterday I had two calls from telemarketers posing as market research firms, claiming they aren't covered by the national and state do-not-call lists. I informed them that in my world they are covered by these regulations. And then unloaded with every profanity that came to mind. Including some new ones I made up on the spot.

Books: My attention span for reading is at a low spot. Last night I tried to read when the power was out, but realized that with my aging eyes I'd need enough candles to blister the paint on the ceiling, coupled with 36-point font.

Music: Lyle Lovett, Smile. All his music from various movies.

Movies/TV: Where have the Angry Beavers gone? Along with Pete and Pete, they were one of the funniest, most bizarre shows on Nickelodeon. Spooty, spooty Nickelodeon.