An application has been submitted to PG&E for undergrounding the power lines on our property. We have no idea how much this will cost (or how we'll pay for it), but we've decided to proceed anyway and figure out the details along the way. Did David think all the details through before he raised his slingshot in the face of Goliath? I think not. He just went for it.
The power pole actually touches a gutter on the cabin. After that last storm, and watching the line twang like a giant rubber band, shaking the pole and the transformer that sits on top of it, our mission became clear. It must go.
Here is how it looks now:
And here is how we hope it will look someday in the not-so-distant future (after a little Photoshop magic):
If only real life had one of those nifty Photoshop rubber stamp tools. I'm so used to working on the computer that when I make a mistake in real life, my brain thinks "Undo! Command Z! Undo! Command Z!" But I soon realize, life just doesn't work that way.
Parts of this project we may be able to take on ourselves to cut costs. It will require 150 feet of trench be dug from the house to the road. This may require a tractor, but it may not. Popsey is also known as "Manic Gopher" due to the hundreds of feet of trench he's dug since we've lived here. I've even been known to pick up a shovel once in a while. The soil here is sandy and easy to dig at least.
We learned that a new power pole will probably need to be installed on the road, because the existing one is too short for a transformer, so there will be some hurdles along the way. Or a lot of hurdles. I'm not THAT naive. Anymore.
There is a reason it seems likely this will all happen, in the form of spiritual confirmation from another world. This is a true story.
It happened one day recently when we were discussing the project, and feeling a bit overwhelmed.
Popsey said, "We have to dream big."
At that exact moment he turned on the radio, and the first word that came come out was "dream." It sounded like it was repeating it after him.
I was rustling around in the kitchen, and froze in my tracks. It was the middle of a Warren Zevon song. I stood there pondering the coincidence. What are the chances?
"Did you hear that?" Popsey asked quietly.
"I did. That was strange."
We were stunned into silence for a few minutes, listening to the rest of the song for any more secret messages.
Maybe we had happened upon some sort of radio wave contact to the spiritual world. Certainly, I'm not some superstitious whacko or anything, but sometimes you just can't ignore these things. I wanted to try it again.
Popsey turned off the radio, "Okay, say something you wish for, and we'll turn it on."
I drew a blank. What did I want? It should be something important, since it was extremely rare to have this direct communication with the spiritual world through our $50 Longs drugstore radio.
"But I don't know what to say," I stammered, feeling the pressure of a thousand ghosts awaiting my profound statement.
"Come on...think of something," he pestered.
"Okay...well...I'd kind of like some cuter clothes?" shallow, superficial, naked person that I am. (If this worked, I swear, the next wish on my list was world peace).
He pressed the button, and the first words we heard this time...
Fashion advice from the spirits! So, I might have a new look next time you see me.
I dare you to try this. Let me know if the radio tells you anything. Or maybe we'll just know by your outfit.