In an attempt to put a stop to the endless sappyholidaymovieathon that inevitably leads to the why-won't-you-give-up-your-boycott-and-celebrate-like-nice-people phone call I put out an order for the Gnomes to please cut off the TV access to the Imperial Mum.
Well you know how Gnomes get sometimes this time of year, what with Elves getting all the attention and their garden variety bretheren being left out to crack in the cold.
Anyway, They apparently managed to blusterate the entire Island into darkness for what they tell me will be days. This was not what I had in mind and I do very much apologise for the Gnomey behavior. (I'm making them sit in front of 24 hours of taped speeches by the Shrub as part of their punishment for over reacting without fulling planning.)
In the mean time The Mom is warm and dry at her cottage. Her wood pile is stocked, her wood stove is functioning and cats are providing extra insulation where needed. (Though if there's someone resembling the Marlboro Man that wishes to further the cause of Heat generation and preservation, I don't know that she'd argue too much.)
She claims she doesn't need any food, and in fact is more worried about having to eat everything in the freezer before it melts, but Bob (definitely NOT the Marlboro Man) has promised to bring a generator before that happens. If you live near by and know where there's a stash of propane or D batteries, I'm sure she'd be grateful.
Her phone does work just fine. If anyone should feel the desire to call her, feel free to email me at ms(dot)hyphen(at)gmail and I will see what I can arrange for you.
The Empress of the 20 Universes