...threw our Rx meds in a basket, woke my husband again, insisted he come outside and look at the sky for gods' sake, so he shuffled slowly down the hall, after which he grabbed the big binder with all our financials in it, and we took our two old cars and headed out of the canyon.
Other than that, the clothes on our backs. The quick action and their sequence were reflexive after a lifetime of mental preparation.
We are very fortunate on many counts: first, I was awake. The wind was up, the dog and I were both edgy, and the last thing I read on FB before the lights went out was a post from a friend in Santa Paula saying there was a fire there. I went down the hall in the dark and woke my husband to tell him that -- he said no worries, it's 10 miles away. Less than an hour later it was practically in our backyard. Our new home has double paned windows -- I did not hear a damned thing when the cops drove up and down the street with their loud-hailers. Instead, in the corner of one window I saw blue and red flashing lights, went out on the front porch and hailed a passing civilian car to ask what was going on.
Second, we had someplace to go to, namely hubby's brother and wife who live only a few miles away in a flatlands tract and not in the foothills -- tho it was iffy for awhile everywhere, and the fire came right to the back door of City Hall. We stayed with them for two weeks.
Third, our neighborhood was spared, all except one house. The first night the fire passed over, and the next day when it came back from the other direction the water-dropping helicopters were able to do their job. The surrounding hills, tho, were black for months. We looked at a lot of houses last Spring, and many of them are gone.
Well, that's all for now. We all have our stories...
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