What a week

(Last Wednesday, right when we got home, I wrote an email about what we've been thru to a group of our college friends. I'm way too lazy - I would say "burned out" but it may be too soon for jokes - to rewrite it so here it is. My apologies to those who have already read this!)

Four days after we moved into our new house, we had to get out. Yep, we were one of the first people to be evacuated during the San Diego fires.

So Sunday night there were report of fires in Ramona, which is way east of us - we live closer to the coast. We watched with concern, not for ourselves but for Jason's parents, who live in Rancho Bernardo and is closer to Ramona than us. We were joking about how they would have to leave in the middle of the night, so they better pack their bags. We then went to bed after work at midnight.

The winds were blowing hard - so hard that I couldn't sleep. I was worried that a window would blow out in Charlie's room - his room is in the front of the house and pretty exposed. I got up around 2am to get the bed ready in the guest room. Jason got up at the same time, looked out our front window, and saw the hillside about a mile from us was on fire.

The neighbors started milling outside to look. Two guys came over and said they were gonna drive up the hill to see how close it really was. I started packing. The guys came down and said it was pretty close, and we should probably leave.

The fire looked like it was dying down at one point, so Jason got in the car to see what the deal was. He wasn't allowed to drive toward the fire because there was a police barrier. So he drove away from the fire toward the gas station to get some information and turn around. A police officer tried to keep him from re-entering our neighborhood until he explained his family was up there and he had the only car. He told him to hurry up and get us.

We woke Charlie up and got in the car, heading toward Jason's parents house. This is around 3:30a. We were unaware of any fires that had entered Rancho Bernardo at that time. The closer we got to their house, the "oranger" the sky got. Then we started to see flames.

We got off at our usual exit and we practically drove into a wall of fire. The hillside was on fire on both sides of the road. The flames were probably 30 feet high. There was one fire truck blocking access. We re-entered the highway to go to the next exit, driving over burning embers to do so.

It was obvious to us that we were in an area we probably shouldn't be, but we had to get Jason's parents out. They were still in their house, in bed, despite warning them that we were coming and they had to get out. I think they were waiting for an official evacuation call. We got to their house and Jason went inside to insist that they leave with us. We then drove to a grocery store parking lot to wait for them (his dad is in a wheelchair and they needed to use their adapted van).

We were in a line of traffic getting to the parking lot of people doing the exact same thing we were. I kept thinking the flames would travel down the road and engulf all of us while we waited for lights to change. We got to the grocery store and while we waited my sister was trying to find us a hotel in Orange County. She found one in Dana Point, about 40 miles north of San Diego, and booked us two rooms. We finally saw his parents - they let us in the traffic stream and we headed out of town.

We stopped at a gas station that was virtually empty. By the time we left, there were easily 50 cars lined up to get gas.

We inched along 56 to get to I-5. We called some family friends, who were sleeping, and told them to meet us in Dana Point. They also got a room at the same hotel. Soon after, the hotel was filled to capacity. It was apparent we were about 10 minutes ahead of the game.

We got on I-5 and the sky started to clear of smoke. It was only then that I popped a xanax and fell asleep. It was 7am. We had been up for 24 hours straight. Somehow, Jason managed to stay awake long enough to drive us up to Dana Point.

We watched the news waiting to see if our houses made it. Our fire was put out on Monday afternoon and we were cleared to return. But Jason's parents were still ordered to evacuate, so we stayed with them. Besides, there were other fires that were threatening our area. We didn't want to return only to leave again. We were afraid we'd lose our hotel room.

From watching the news, it looks like Jason's parents' condo was spared. The burn area surrounds their complex. We won't know for sure until they let us back in, but I think it's okay.*

We all came back to San Diego about an hour ago. Camp Pendelton is on fire, which we drove past to get back home. Luckily the highway was open going Southbound. There happens to be a nuclear reactor there, right by the burning area. That was a concern. But we made it.

The sky is blue now. The air isn't great, but it's certainly better than it was. There is a thick layer of ash covering everything outside, but inside, all is good, save an infestation of ants who took advantage of our pantry while we were gone.

It was obviously the worst thing we have been through thus far. But in the end, it turned out all right.

*The parents' condo is okay. Houses burned to the north, west, south and east of them - but somehow avoided their retirement complex altogether. They are back home and it's all good.

We Made It (Right?)

We are officially residents of Southern California.

We signed the escrow papers, wired the cash today, and as of tomorrow, a guy named Dan will be the proud new owner of our old house.

I wasn't sad to leave it. I don't know if it was because we only lived in it for 10 months or if it's because of the really weird encounter I had with the next door neighbor I endearingly refer to as "Internet Porn Drunk Guy".

Last Thursday, we were in a tailspin, cleaning up all the last-minute junk and trash left over after four movers came in and took all of our stuff away, and the doorbell rang. I was mid-stair and unfortunately, I made eye contact with Mr. Internet Porn Drunk Guy through the detrimentally clear glass window. I opened the door only a fraction of the way, backstopping it with my left foot.

He said, "Hey, you moving?"

Instead of saying, "What tipped you off - the For Sale sign or the giant yellow moving truck parked in our narrow, dead end street for six hours today?" I said, "Yes we are, but we are in a real rush. We have to pick everything up before..."

"When are you leaving?" he asked.

"Uh, today?"

"Today!" he bellowed with mock astonishment.

Again, I'm thinking, "Didn't you see the giant monstrosity of a truck in front of your house all morning and a good portion of the afternoon? Those things take furniture away. Which implies that we have none in the house. Ergo, we are leaving." But my mom raised me to bite my tongue until it bleeds, so I said, "Yes, today. But we really have to go - on a bit of a time table! It was really nice meeting you -"

"Who bought the house?"

At this point I'm starting to get slightly crazed. Jason is conveniently busy throwing away enough food from our refrigerator to feed all of Angelina Jolie's future children, and since the front door is only cracked, he's out of eyeshot and only listens to this exchange from a safe distance.

"This guy - his daughter knows your daughter. Now I really have to go -"

"Which daughter?" He actually scratched his cheek, as if deep in thought, which I don't think is actually possible for this one.

"I have no idea. You'll have a lot to talk about," I say, feeling both guilt and relief that we got out of this house when we did. "But really, I have to go so good luck."

And that's when it got weird. He then started knocking on the door with the door knocker. "Where's that Charlie? Bye bye Charlie!"

OMG.

THEN, he starts to shoulder his way past me into the house to get his drunk, pervy hands on my son.

!

I slammed the door shut, yelling, "See you later!", quickly locked both locks and ran from view of any of the front windows.

So maybe it was THAT that made leaving the first home I've ever owned less than nostalgic.

~~~~~~

In the chaos of moving, I did not make the time to say goodbye to many of my friends, including my dear friend Darren. Darren took me to task today on IM. I told him I was sorry and there were no excuses. And there aren't. I've known Darren since 1992. That's 15 years, all you math majors. That's a long long time. And he's been a great friend to me. I should have said my goodbyes in person. But I just know he will always be a part of our lives and never far away, no matter where we live on the planet. I just know that.

~~~~~~

That house up there - that's our house. Jase took that pic with his phone. Our stuff comes tomorrow. Charlie has been the exact opposite of an angel the last few days. Hmmm, that would make him a devil - a devil child. That's about right. But we finally dragged the spare crib out of Bubbe's storage and put it together - now both he and I will get a much-needed good night's sleep and hopefully tomorrow will be better. For now, it's good enough that we are both alive to tell about it.

More pics of the house to come once I find the camera!

Finding Numbers

Yesterday when Jase was in San Diego for his last trip until we move, I took Charlie and Boo to Lake Washington. We went to Kite Park - and though it was definitely windy enough, it was too wet and cold for any sane person to fly any kite.

We went to the same place a few days earlier. The leaves have fallen and are the most amazing shades of red, orange, and yellow but after days of relentless rain, walking through them was like walking through soggy corn flakes.

When we were leaving Charlie ran over to this picnic table by the lake and started shouting, "Two? Two? Two!!!?"

I had no idea what he was talking about, which happens a lot. It was cold and I was wet and I just wanted to get into the warm, safe car. I grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the car, all while he kept repeating, "Two!! Two!!"

Well, yesterday, we went to the same picnic table. He ducked under it and started shouting, "Two! Two!" I pulled him out from underneath the table and there it was, a tiny sign with just one number on it.

The number two.

"Oooooooh," I said. "That's right, Charlie. Two."

He heaved a huge sigh of relief, the message has been conveyed and received.

We threw rocks into the lake and played hide and seek amongst the submarine fins. When it was time to leave, the bones in Charlie's legs must have spontaneously disappeared, because he crumbled into a heap and when I tried to pick him up, his legs buckled and he collapsed again, wailing the whole time, "No, Mommy! Stop!" just so any passerbys would think I was an abusive parent and CPS should be called directly to the scene. I got on his level and told him it was time to say bye to the park, bye to the submarine fins, bye to the lake. That usually works. This time, no such luck. I carried his kicking, flailing body back to the car until I saw something that I knew would work.

"Charlie, look! A kite!"

The tears stopped and he repeated, "Kite, Mommy?" I pointed to it and luckily it was in the same direction as the car. He walked the whole way and didn't put up much of a fight getting him into the car seat.

He was quiet most of the way home. About 5 minutes from home, he said, "Sorry, Mommy."

It was a good day.

Hands Full

Hands Full from MoRitchie on Vimeo.

But what I really want to do... is DANCE!

Untitled from MoRitchie on Vimeo.

Charlie is a dancing machine.

Check out Breedorf for videos of pal Theo dancing as well. Charlie's play area is quite the disco scene. I'm thinking about putting up a red rope and hiring a bouncer.