Love for Grandpa

We all know I'm an overly nostalgic person, but I've been feeling particularly connected to my grandpas lately. Last week, our kids' school celebrated their first annual Country Fair. (It was awesome.) Our PTA president, myself and many other parents from our school are also alums and we opted to bring back the Country Fair theme (to replace the Medieval Faire, because really, what about the Medieval time period screams "children's fair"?), but also because the Country Fair was the theme of our youth. Again with the nostalgia. The fair was great; a lot of work, but also a lot of fun. I was in charge of game booths. It was a great job for me and a crummy job for me. I loved deciding on the games, naming them, creating them and working with our co-chairs on the layout. But I despise nagging people to work their one-hour shifts. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. As the fair got closer, I was more and more unhappy with the job, so I decided to do a little something for myself, and this is what I came up with:

Sorry those pictures aren't great. For some reason it never occurred to me to take a picture of them. I know. Duh.

The whole process got me thinking a lot about my grandpas. My dad's dad, Grandpa Bill, was a sign maker by profession. He created the stencils which would be used to paint a sign on, say, the side of a truck, for example. And he was a calligrapher and lover of all things hand-made. In his retirement, he perfected calligraphy, jewelry making, painting, copper on enamel plates (some of which are hanging in my dining room to the left of me as I write), gold leaf and furniture restoration, just to name a few. From him I inherited my love of all things hand-made and a love for the process of creating something with my own two hands, as well as the appreciation for things made by others. I especially learned a love for creative, beautiful lettering. I wish I had a fraction of the talent he had and hope that some day I will have the time to practice and focus more on the art. I also inherited from Grandpa Bill a desire for perfection, which is something I fight against every day! :) This project was meant to look "unperfect" so it was great for me!

Thinking about Grandpa Bill also got me thinking about my Grandpa Joe, my mom's dad, whom I knew much better. From Grandpa Joe I inherited my love for sports, particularly baseball. He was a wonderful athlete, who would be so proud to see his grandson (who bears his name) finally excelling at sports and really learning to love the game. We also share a love for Boston, his hometown, which we never visited together. I hope that my own parents have the chance to share their hometowns with their grandchildren. What better way to learn their history and stories. And my gramps loved to tell a story. From him I learned the joy of hearing and telling a great story (sometimes over and over to the same people). We love to make people smile. And the man cried. A lot. Nostalgic, loving, sentimental, just like his granddaughter. And stubborn as all hell. Yeah, we share that, too.

I'm missing my grandpas terribly lately. How I wish my Grandpa Bill could see that, though I never perfected the art of calligraphy, for nothing I do is ever perfect, I have grown to love the process, and find great joy and peace in the craft. I never see a hand painted sign which doesn't make me think of him. I wonder what he'd think about Pinterest and etsy. In a day and age of quick and cheap and plastic and free shipping, would he appreciate online resources for a reconnection to the past? If he were a generation younger, would he have his tech-savvy son helping him set up his own etsy shop? I wish I'd paid more attention in those calligraphy lessons, lived closer so he could have taught me cloisonné. Taken a trip to Vermont with him to admire the gold leaf signs. And my Grandpa Joe I miss every day. I wear my Boston Red Sox hat for him and wish we could have enjoyed a game at Fenway together just once. He never got to see Zachary play "real" baseball, but I know nothing would make him happier than playing catch with him just one more time. I wonder what he'd think about watching Annalise and Juliette dance. I can hear him laughing and cussing and maybe even doing a little imitation just to get a laugh. But I know he'd be proud of them, too, even proud that his granddaughters are great athletes, too. (He was slow to come around to the idea of girls playing sports... not one of his best traits!!)  I'd love to hear his ridiculous stories just one more time, even the ones I've heard a hundred times, seeing his blue eyes fill with tears. I wish I had another chance to meet both of them again. In my old age, I've realized just how much I learned from each of them. I wish I'd learned that sooner.

On to the signs...

So I stole a pallet. Well, I didn't exactly steal. I asked permission first, then parked illegally, and shoved that puppy into the back of my van. It was much bulkier than I thought and I was glad I'd talked a friend into helping me shove it in. And then Jason took it apart, which really was not a pretty process. At all. Perhaps we should have looked at the online tutorials on how to take apart a pallet first. Anyway, we got it apart and Jason cut 24 pieces, of varying lengths for me. No pictures of this part. Like I said, not so pretty.

Then I painted the pieces poorly. The idea was to make it look like the signs were old, so using a pallet was perfect, as was painting them quickly and sloppily. This was so super easy and fast! (Which was necessary, since this was all done two days before the fair.) I used regular pre-mixed house paint from the hardware store... No time to be picky about colors, though I did add some gray to the blue, as it was a little darker than what I wanted. Here are some of the painted pieces.

You can see how the pallet was perfect for this because it made each piece a little more interesting.

While they were drying, I went to my computer. I wrote out each name I wanted on the signs in Word and then I selected which font I wanted to use for each. This way I could be somewhat brainless about painting and just copy the different fonts. I downloaded a few new fonts for the process (which I love to do anyway). http://www.dafont.com is one of my favorite places to look for fonts. Then once the base paint was dry (top and bottom and all sides, since I knew they'd be seen from every direction) I started to paint. I made eight signs in each color, used white paint to write on the blue and red signs and either blue or red for the white signs. Here was my first sign:

It's one of my favorites, too. I love the hole in the sign. The font for this one was American Typewriter and I used just a cheapo paintbrush that I got at the hardware store for all the lettering. Nothing fancy, just copying the computer! Here's a close up of some of the white on red signs:

See how imperfect they are? It doesn't matter. The impact of all of the signs together was the important part. And the imperfection was a clear reminder that things used to be hand-made. Here they are all together. (Again, sorry for the quality of the pictures. Thank goodness for iPhones, though!)

If you look closely, you see all the imperfections, but as a whole, I think they went with the tone and feel of a small town Americana Country Fair.

To hang them, we next bought two 2 inch (I think!) square long pieces of wood. I banged them up a bit with both sides of my hammer, and then painted them poorly with white paint. We installed them with zip ties to other poles either on the playground or the large rented "town square" tent. My husband pre-drilled holes in each sign approximately in the middle of each one so we could easily install in place with screws. The signs more or less pointed in the direction of the various games.  Here they are again:

A little piece of Americana, twenty minutes from downtown LA, in our own small town USA.

I hope a little bit of nostalgia maybe will bring you some joy as it brought to me!

Man, I Love my Village!

Since becoming a parent, I can't tell you how many times I've repeated the famous quote, "It takes a village to raise a child."  This year that line is more true for me than ever.  Perhaps you've read my blog before and noticed huge gaps in time in between posts.  This is because I am BUSY!!  Besides the three kids and their three very different schedules, I have as always, over-extended myself with volunteer jobs and now I am working more than I have since Annalise was born.  It's a lot to juggle and I am feeling very overwhelmed at times.  The past two nights, I have put myself to bed before nine, which does not ever happen unless I am sick.  But I'm exhausted.  I'm having a hard time balancing it all, which we all know is where I fall short so often anyway.  It is a tough year, but I do have things in perspective.  I know how hard everything is for other people.  And next year, with Zachary in school all day and Juliette in two mornings a week, the juggling will become somewhat easier.  I hope! 

I think as Americans, we have this attitude that we have to do everything ourselves.  If we ask for help, if we admit that we need help, then we somehow have failed.  And so we often flounder on our own, not thinking to reach out our hand to the person standing just next to us to ask for help.  I have been guilty of this so much myself.  And then a wonderful thing happened.  A year ago, I had to have surgery.  And I had no choice but to ask for help.  My husband, my mom, and a multitude of friends stepped up and helped out in ways I couldn't even imagine.  They took care of me in so many ways: they made meals, and they took care of my children.  They recognized when I was trying to dive back in too early and pushed me back out of the pool and took care of everything for a much longer time than any of us anticipated.  What I learned through that was that people were not resentful for having to help.  They were not begrudging.  They were willing and happy to help.

This year because of my crazy work schedule, my desire to take a parent ed class with Juliette, Zachary's afternoon kindergarten schedule (which I wanted and asked for), my mom's crazy volunteer schedule being crazier than ever and occasionally Juliette's naps running overboard, I have had to rely on friends more than ever.  And my friends have been AMAZING!  I like to think that I am returning the favor, if not completely this year, than in the years to come as well.  Because the amazing thing that has happened is that I have found that my friends need me too.  One friend had to unexpectedly leave for a few days this week to attend a funeral.  In a matter of hours, through a few emails, her girls were completely taken care of for the week.  We all happily stepped in to take the girls to and from school, to dance classes and playdates.  Truthfully, it's easy.  My kids are happy to have friends over, I'm happy that they're happy and my friend can focus on being present at the memorial service and know that her girls are taken care of.

When I was a kid, I wasn't too thrilled to live in a town where everyone knows everyone else's business.  (My brother, as a first grader on his way home from school, throwing lemons at cars, really didn't like this.  My mother knew before he even walked in the door.)  But this same town where everyone knows everyone else's business, also supports each other.  Sometimes everyone's business is just gossip.  But sometimes it's knowing when a friend is in need and stepping up to support her.  This year, though I sometimes feel like a mooch, I know that my village knows that I am here to support them in their times of need as well.  My village kicks ass and I wouldn't change my village for anything.

Loud Girls

In the other room right now are four eight or nine year old girls.  Three of these girls I have known since they were in kindergarten.  (Well, one is my own, so I've known her a little longer.)  The fourth is new to their school this year, and therefore new to me as well.  When the fourth girl joined our Brownie troop this year, her mother was somehow sold a bill of goods (by me).  She was told that our troop was made up of several girls who are shy, a little timid, sometimes a bit socially awkward, slow starters, uncomfortable in new situations, etc. etc.  I swear, if you saw our Brownie troop in June, this is exactly what you would have seen.  And then third grade started.

Somehow third grade has created completely different animals.  This was evident from the first time I had a whole gaggle of girls here (about week two of school).  We walked here from school, about a fifteen minute walk, and the conversations did not stop for the entire walk, the entire playdate, until the last girl was picked up and deposited in her own home.  When I peeked in on the girls, they were dancing and singing at the top of their lungs, putting on some bazaar show for the girls who looked back at them in the mirror.  These girls did not lack confidence.  They were not shy in front of brand new friends.  They were completely and totally comfortable in their own skin.  And LOUD.

When Zachary has friends over I expect them to be boisterous, rambunctious, bouncing off the walls, and constantly having to be shushed if Juliette is sleeping.  But Annalise's playdates have always been much quieter; the girls preferring to disappear into Annalise's room for vast amounts of time, only surfacing to eat or use the bathroom.  They may have been napping in there for as quiet as they were.  The other difference I've noticed is that Zachary and his friends are constantly negotiating what they will play next, changing their minds, and then another back and forth about the next activity.  Annalise's friends usually make a suggestion and Annalise just goes along.  Many of her friends are like this.  They will just go along with the crowd.  But this is not the case so much anymore.  These girls in my house right now all have opinions and are not afraid to voice them.  Even Annalise, the queen of going along with any suggestion, is actually voicing her opinions and being heard.

These girls have grown up a bit, but mostly their friendships have grown up.  These girls who have now known each other for years have finally truly accepted the friendship.  They now trust in each other -- enough to speak their minds and know that they will still be liked, respected and listened to.  They are now free to be themselves in front of their friends.  They are free to be the crazy, goofy, opinionated girls that we, as their parents, have seen for years.

In a small town like ours, people move in and stay.  People do not move away.  (Actually they do move away: they leave to go to college, have a single life, get married and start a family.  But when it comes time for their kids to start school, inevitably, we come back.)  Annalise will be stuck with these kids for the next ten years of her life.  What a blessing it is for her to have found friends who know her and love her and listen to her and respect her for the crazy, goofy, opinionated girl that she is.  These girls in the other room will very likely be her friends for life.  They will share in each others' ups and downs, triumphs and collapses.

So, yes, I unknowingly sold a mom (also my friend) a bill of goods.  But what her daughter got is so much more: a group of lovely, loud girls who trust in each other.

Our Own Private Forest

Though we live about 20 minutes from downtown LA, and there is a major freeway bissecting our town, I usually feel like I live a million miles from the major metropolis, at least the stereotypes thereof. People from out of state and out of town, it seems, think of people who live in LA as shallow, rich, shopaholic, plastic and botoxed and obsessed with celebrity culture. I'm sure there's some truth to this for many Angelinos and probably many people in our own little town. But as I walk or drive around town, I am much, much more likely to see women in sweats, their hair in a ponytail, walking a big dog than someone in the latest fashion, with a face unrecognizable to their high school friends and a dog in their purse. The original purpose of our little town was to be in "the country." It seems that much of that original purpose has been replaced by suburban shopping centers, SUVs and houses that fill an entire lot. But some elements remain. We still have very few street lights or sidewalks. Most of the town is still not on sewers. The city is littered with trees; eucalyptus, sycamores and California oaks, some smackdab in the middle of the road. And we have our horse trails.

Today the kids and I decided to have an adventure. Inevitably, these adventures take place on the horse trail. We've been exploring different aspects of it, going for short walks, collecting pinecones and leaves. Since we are on two feet (and not four), there is only so far we can go at a time. Today we were in a new (to us) part of the trail, canopied in ancient oaks. Even though today was a holiday and a gorgeous fall day, we came across only four other people on our walk. We had the trail almost completely to ourselves. The kids made up stories about where we were as we explored what felt like our own private forest. It was beautiful, peaceful and centering; the perfect way to forget about the stress of every day life. How lucky that we are to have all this right here in our own town. My kids were so excited to see two "big kids" who were having their own adventure, scouting spots for a scene in their "movie." (OK, it is still LA.) I can't wait for them to have their own adventures without me, like my childhood friends Sarah and Heidi and I used to do. I am often envious of people who live on huge properties of land or people in other parts of the country who have woods behind their backyard. Imagine that! How quick I am to forget what is in my own backyard.

One aspect of our walk was a little sad for me, though. We didn't come across a single horse. I know there are still horses in our town. We see them. We stop our car for them when they cross the road. There is even one family who rides home from school sometimes in a horse-drawn buggy. (Seriously. How cool is that?!) But they are getting more and more obsolete. I'm afraid that one day all the beautiful horse properties in town will be filled with enormous houses, swimming pools and play equipment, the barns and stables and horse spaces converted into something else entirely. Or worse yet, someone will subdivide the land and put on two or three or four enormous houses. As you walk along the horse trails, you can see into many of the yards of the homes that back the trails. Gates in the properties make for easy access on horseback. We saw lots of stables, one with six stalls and an enormous green area where horses once ran and grazed. Not a single stable that we saw today had a horse. Some appeared to be converted into storage. One is maybe a poolhouse or a guesthouse now. But most are just empty, their rooves starting to cave in. I don't really remember because well, my memory is spotty at best. But I know that horses were much more prolific in my youth. I remember bringing along a carrot or an apple to feed the horse on the street behind mine. Horses were as much a part of our town as the schools that now define it. It seems that some of the country has left our little town, left many of the stables empty and deserted. And though I have never ridden a horse, I still dream of someday opening a gate from my backyard, leaving behind a refurbished stable and hitting the trails on horseback.

Today the kids and I collected berries and acorns, freshly fallen after this morning's wind storm. Tomorrow we will make a wreath using them to adorn our front door. It will remind me to enjoy the nature that is right around me; enjoy these simple times while my children are young enough to enjoy them with me; and appreciate what has been, what is and what will be in an ever-evolving world.

Smelling the Roses

I have been generally ignoring all of my responsibilities lately, including writing in my blog. I had surgery a few weeks ago and the recovery from that has largely taken over my life. It was supposed to be a pretty simple surgery, but of course not for me! I ended up losing a lot of blood, having really low blood pressure and extremely low hemoglobin levels, a bad reaction to the anesthesia and two blood transfusions to try to remedy it all! It was more than I signed up for, and certainly it worried quite a few people. (But not me -- I was still kind of high from the anesthesia and Vicatin.) This week I am feeling so much better and was even able to walk Annalise to school today. That alone felt like a major accomplishment!

The whole ordeal has been very eye-opening and humbling for me. For the first time in my life, I really, really needed to depend on other people. And not just Jason and my mom, but really the whole village. My mom, of course, was a saint, and kept the kids for the whole time I was in the hospital and then the kids and me the following week when Jason had to go out of town. And she whipped that baby (who was still nursing the day before the surgery!!) into shape! She now sleeps on her own, in her crib, with little or no crying or drama. It's still unreal for us! (We keep waiting for the other shoe to drop!) Jason was exhausted going back and forth between the kids and me and taking care of all the odds and ends that are normally my responsibility. And then there were all the friends and neighbors who pitched in. Different people brought the kids home from school, kept them for playdates, took them to practices. People sent flowers, brought us meals, brought down our garbage cans, etc. etc. My brother came down from San Francisco for a surprise visit. Yesterday my friend Sarah and my mom paid to have our house cleaned top to bottom and inside out! If you've been here before you seriously wouldn't recognize the place! It's like a whole other family lives here! People have been amazing. And I've learned that people want to help and it's OK to accept help. It's been a good lesson for me.

At the same time, the mother of one of Annalise's good friends just got diagnosed with leukemia. It's been really devastating news, though she and her family have been incredibly strong and resilient. But that, too, has reminded me how much I have to be grateful for. Our lives are short and fragile. Our family and friendships are so important. We should appreciate it all! I will be stopping to smell the roses!

The Faire

So I mentioned that I co-chaired the faire at Zachary's school this year. That thing was a lot of work! It is a huge event and fundraiser. I'm happy to report that we earned almost $30,000. We were $5000 shy of our goal, BUT we were still almost $9000 over last year. And that's not bad. I know I bitched and complained about it the whole way, but the truth is, it really was a lot of fun. My co-chairs, Courtney and Julie, are amazing, fun girls and we had way more laughs than we did complaints. We worked well together, balanced off each other well, and were a great team. And our committee chairs were fabulous! They came up with new ideas; they questioned the way things had been done in the past and made them better; they were creative and innovative. They were awesome! The whole thing was a huge team effort that had all these separate pieces that all came together to make for an incredible day. In the end I was really proud! But I definitely felt a little weird when it was all over -- like a what now? kind of feeling. I miss seeing Courtney and Julie every day. And it was great to really feel like I was doing something to really help.

The whole volunteer thing is really quite new to me. I have done little things here and there, but nothing major like this. And that phenomenon is really an amazing one. It amazes me what people will do for no money, no paycheck, and often barely a thank you. Maybe it's because of how volunteering makes you feel -- like you're really making a difference, really helping someone out. I know for now it makes the most sense for me to be focusing my efforts locally, on my kids' schools, but I hope as they get older I will reach far beyond our community, and bring my kids along in that adventure. I can imagine how powerful that will be for a kid. Who knows where these volunteering gigs will lead for me. Perhaps someday it will land me a paying job doing fundraising for a non-profit. (I'll certainly build up quite a resume in the meantime!) Or maybe I'll become a "professional" volunteer, like my mom. So far I have found the experience really rewarding, and I look forward to my next assignment, whatever that may be.

Fires, Part Two

The last time I sat down to write, there was a little forest fire brewing up in the mountains above our home. It was only 5% contained, but it remained at less than 25 acres for over a day. It was scary, but not a full scale emergency. Since then, the fire has grown to be the largest in the history of Los Angeles County. Thousands and thousands of homes have been threatened and thousands and thousands of acres have been burned. Over 60 homes have been lost and two firefighters have lost their lives. It is tragic and sad and at the same time miraculous.

Our family had planned a camping trip north of Santa Barbara for last weekend long before the fires started. After much debate about going, our stuff, me being sick, etc. etc., we decided to go. We took one box of valuables (that really was everything that was important) over to my parent's and hit the road. As we drove away from town on the 2 freeway, I turned around to watch the flames and smoke rise up out of our little town, nervous that it wouldn't look the same when we returned. It turned out that being away was the best thing for us. We had a a great time at the beach, hung out with friends and, though we checked updates often on Jason's Blackberry, we didn't have to witness the terror that was going on at home. Back at home, my dad watched in horror, from his house, a fire that he thought would surely take out our neighborhood. Watching that scene now on time lapse photography, it is truly amazing that our house is still standing (as is every other house in our neighborhood!).

After the weekend, the threat to our homes had largely past, but the threat to our lungs had not. With a new baby and a four year old with asthma, we decided to stay at a hotel in Oxnard for a couple days. My mom came up and met us so Jason could go back to work. We relaxed (some), checked Facebook constantly for updates, and waited to hear about school cancellations. The kids played in the pool, jumped in the ocean waves and directed us as we pedalled a surry with the fringe on top (a funny picture with Juliette bobbing up and down in the Bjorn). It was a great extra two days of summer.

We arrived home to heat and oppressive smoke, though apparently much improved from the weekend. Annalise started school the next day and it was back to reality. But our town has been changed. Once again, a tragedy (This is the second tragedy in five months for us here -- the first being a semi truck crashing into the town bookstore, killing two people in the process.) has brought this town together. Everywhere you go, you see car windows reading "Thank you firefighters!" or "LCF Loves Firefighters." Posters and signs hang on stores and in front of people's houses. Restaurants and hair salons are offering free services to the firefighters. Business owners and regular people have been bringing food and drinks to the men and women fighting to save our town. One elementary school girl held a fund raiser (already) for the families of the two men who died. Annalise's school principal (who was herself evacuated), opted to stay in the unairconditioned high school gym evacuation center instead of a hotel or someone's guest house, so that she could bring comfort to the students who were also evacuated. We are now trying to plan a town party to honor our firefighters.

One of the firefighters from Northern California said that this was the nicest they've ever been treated, and what a great place to live this must be. It is, but it is today only because of the people who risked their lives to save our town. After touring some of the damage the other day, I was amazed. The fire lines run right up against the backyards at the end of every street in town. Literally inches from people's properties, the fires were stopped. Amazing. Not a single home in La Canada was burned. (Even my friend's in the mountains whose house was surrounded by flames somehow was saved.) These incredible people have done unbelievable things. We are truly blessed.

Fires

For the past 24 hours, airplanes and helicopters have been buzzing over our house. Ash is covering our cars, rooves and plants. Smoke fills the air, fills our lungs. My friend and her family have had to evacuate their mountain home. We live in the foothills of a national forest. In Southern California, with our heat and low humidity often coupled with Santa Ana winds, this means that we are often on fire alert. Sure enough, yesterday, with temperatures reaching the triple digits, a fire broke out in our beloved mountains. As of right now, no homes are threatened (even my friend's) and the fire is relatively small. But a gust of wind can change everything in a second. In 1990, our next-door neighbors' lives changed in a second when an ember from a fire blocks away landed on their wood roof, catching their house on fire. Fortunately my mom and another neighbor saw what was happening in time to call the fire department (who saved much of the home) and to save the family's pet schnauzer. I came home to fire trucks and news vans. It changed my view of tragedy forever.

Growing up in this town, fires were very much a part of our reality. (It turns out that all of the above fire hazards were made far worse as the fire chief of a nearby town was also an arsonist.) Fires happened often. When the Santa Ana winds picked up, the town breathed in deep, holding our collective breath until the winds and heat died down. And yet, for some reason, I still love the wind. I love the feel of it against my face, how my hair whips around and the sound of the trees rustling. This seems so irrational to me, given where and when I grew up, until my friend Cindy explained it to me not so long ago.

When I was about eight, we had a particularly bad fire. It burned for days. Schools were cancelled. The power was off. Ashes covered the outsides and insides of our houses. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and hearing the soft voices of my parents talking. I got up, and can still feel and see the gray air in the house, the ashes falling even inside. I walked into the hallway and all our family pictures were down. My parents were pulling out important documents from their filing cabinet. Our car was packed, ready to evacuate. I had never been so scared in all my life. I remember asking my mom if we had to evacuate, would we go to the Denson's house? (They lived across the street.) I really didn't understand the scope of the problem. In fact, at that point, every street north of ours had already been evacuated, and the plan was to make a firestop at Foothill Boulevard, several blocks south of ours. Half the town would be lost. And then, for some unknown reason, the winds changed. Not only did we not have to be evacuated, but most of the town was spared. Less than thirty homes were lost to that fire. As devastating as it was to those families, it was far less horrible than we all thought it would be.

I don't remember if it was that night or the next or even the one prior. But one of those nights, with the power off, my dad somehow plugged our portable television into our car. We adjusted the rabbit ears and the whole neighborhood gathered around to watch our little town, engulfed in flames, on the national news. Somehow there was safety in this gathering. There was community. There was the knowledge that we would all get through this together. Amidst our fear, we were able to talk and laugh and tell stories. It was comforting. My friend Cindy suspects that I love the wind because I so much love the sense of community. It's true that communities really do come together in times of need. Our little street certainly did again and again as fires affected us all. But I'm glad that I live in a community where we come together in times of joy as well. Our street hasn't had a block party since we moved in. Perhaps it's time we do. These fires remind us how precious it all is. Let's celebrate.

In the meantime, I will keep my bags packed, ready to load my little family into the car and head out to safety just in case. I will watch the news, listen to the airplanes and pray for the firefighters. And I'll hold my breath that the wind will stay away.