Alaska Might Be Calling Me Home...

Yesterday afternoon, after chores and dog stuff and whatnot, I plopped down into my comfy reading chair, new book in hand.  I had barely read the first chapter when the dogs started doing this odd throat-clearing, hacking thing.  Distracting, but whatever. Until I started doing it and then smelled smoke.  Strong, acrid, shit-the-house-is-on-fire smoke.

I jumped to my feet, trying to follow the scent like a drug dog at airport security.  The smell completely permeated the house, giving me one of those prickly rushes of anxiety, coupled with a frantic desire to find the frigging flames before the house was engulfed.

Where was it coming from?

I calmed down after a minute or two when I realized the entire valley below me was filled with smoke, not just my house. Thick and strong, it made breathing difficult; the sky tainted with a sickly pinkish hue. Somewhere a forest fire was raging.

Yesterday afternoon...

I turned on the Northwest News channel, and sure enough.  Three separate, out-of-control fires to the north, east and west of me with evacuations, homes in jeopardy, acres of trees burning to ash in the tinder-dry forests.

Smoke, like water, is impossible to keep out.  I could almost see it wafting under the door, sneaking in the windows, creeping up the stairs.  Last night sleeping was a misery, not just from the smell, but the residual heat from the blasted sun. It's still in the mid-90s, still no rain in sight, still no ease from one of the worst droughts on record.

Early this morning... 

Have you ever wondered what you would save, dear readers, in a scenario of "grab it and go?"  Are you prepared for an emergency?  I know that many folks around the LA area, during the Santa Ana winds and fires, keep what they want to save in their cars so all they have to do is get in and drive away. Last night I wondered what I would snag on my way out.  I wandered through the house, mentally discarding this, grabbing that, questioning myself over importance, what I could live without.

Bottom line?  I figure I could be out of the house in under 30 seconds. Purse, phone, camera, two dogs.  Toss everything in the car and hit the road.  Stuff doesn't matter in the whole scheme of things really, does it?  But living to fight another day sure does...