The Perils of Paradise
Living in Southern California, I have always thought the biggest threats to my well-being were earthquakes, fires, and vanity. I try not to complain about my life because I live near the Pacific Ocean, about a twenty minute drive from my doorstep to the shoreline, which gives me access to paradise whenever I want it. I am pretty lucky.
But even paradise comes with perils...namely, the San Andreas fault and Santa Ana weather patterns; dry air, high winds, less than 5% humidity, right around the end of summer when our dry brush and landscape is like a tinder box, ready to spark and spread and send us packing our cars with our kids, pets, baby books, videos, and clean undergarments when we hear the words "evacuaton." This just happens here. We think we're used to it until one of the inevitable fires gets out of control and starts another, then another, until the whole city goes into lockdown.
It's the California version of snow days - schools close, businesses shut down, and you stay in the house getting closer to your kids, their lovely habits, and messes they make when they are forced to stay in the same four walls all - day - long.
Driving home from the beach this past Sunday, I saw the smoke but took the seriousness of the then two fires for granted. By Monday morning, highways and roads were shut down, radio stations had dead air, schools were closing and already 200,000 people had been evacuated. At last count, I heard some 550,000 people had been evacuated and some 1,500 homes lost. But here I sit at my laptop, watching Peter Pan with my kids, wiping noses and picking grapes up off the floor but safe, secure, and happy. Some days I feel guilty, but that is silly, so that is when I give back.
Evacuees from the fire have been gathering at Qualcomm Stadium (where the Chargers play, but may not have their game, this coming Sunday). After buying bags full of non-perishables at Wal-Mart, my Mother, kids and I drove down to the Stadium prepared to drop off board games, diapers, hand sanitizer, toothbrushes, and so much more ... and there they were, people camped out in tents next to their SUVs, people loading up arms full of goods from the base camp where Coke and Wal-Mart trucks unloaded boxes by the hundreds, and I drove it home to my kids..."Next time you complain about your favorite pair of socks not being clean, remember what you see here, right now!" And I must remember this next time I complain about by DSL not being quick enough - in more ways than one, I am the luckiest girl I know.
Because of those Wal-Mart trucks and Coke deliveries, Qualcomm Stadium had everything the needed for the evacuees, they began turing away donations. Which is refreshing, isn't it? I fantasize about this sipirit of charity being ever-present among each other, less the motive of a tragedy.
Determined to make a positive impact, we drove to a nearby community center where I pulled up my SUV on the right side of ten orange cones and tired, shell-shocked people unloaded the bags of goods from my car. It wasn't as moving as I'd hoped it would be; I imagined seeing a little girl holding a teddy bear she clung to on her way out the the home she lost and was rushed out of, saying "Monopoly! Mommy, someone bought Monopoly for us!", but that's okay - I'm sure it happened, even if I didn't witness it. Someone was grateful. I don't feel as guilty. We helped.
So with school closed the rest of the week, my kids barred from going outside, what do you do after you've watched every DVD in the house, after your son is bored with his PSP, when the sinus meds make you sleepy and you have three kids who are climbing up the walls, hungry every ten minutes?
You remember that is one of the perils of paradise. Nothing comes without a cost, I guess. As I type, as I enjoy this pounding and releasing on my keyboard and play with my Tarot every few minutes (same card keeps coming up), my kids destroy the house. It's still standing, though. The smoke chokes you when you walk outside, but no flames have reached us. I didn't have to gather my belongings and rush out of my house before my life changed, but I have gathered myself more than a few times since Monday after moments of self-pity (cabin fever) or tearing as I read about horses tied to wooden fances surrounded by flames. This world just scares me to death sometimes, and my four walls don't look so unattaractive at that point.
Yet I can't wait until I get to go out and resume life as normal again, perils and all. If it's not a fire, it's a sexual predator moving in a mile away. If it's not a crazy, activity-packed schedule, it's a schedule being wiped clean and forced complacency. I think the worst enemy is where I go in my own head, but I'm working on it.
Because there are enough perils besides the ones that we create. Seems I have many opportunities to overcome them, and for that, I am lucky.
But even paradise comes with perils...namely, the San Andreas fault and Santa Ana weather patterns; dry air, high winds, less than 5% humidity, right around the end of summer when our dry brush and landscape is like a tinder box, ready to spark and spread and send us packing our cars with our kids, pets, baby books, videos, and clean undergarments when we hear the words "evacuaton." This just happens here. We think we're used to it until one of the inevitable fires gets out of control and starts another, then another, until the whole city goes into lockdown.
It's the California version of snow days - schools close, businesses shut down, and you stay in the house getting closer to your kids, their lovely habits, and messes they make when they are forced to stay in the same four walls all - day - long.
Driving home from the beach this past Sunday, I saw the smoke but took the seriousness of the then two fires for granted. By Monday morning, highways and roads were shut down, radio stations had dead air, schools were closing and already 200,000 people had been evacuated. At last count, I heard some 550,000 people had been evacuated and some 1,500 homes lost. But here I sit at my laptop, watching Peter Pan with my kids, wiping noses and picking grapes up off the floor but safe, secure, and happy. Some days I feel guilty, but that is silly, so that is when I give back.
Evacuees from the fire have been gathering at Qualcomm Stadium (where the Chargers play, but may not have their game, this coming Sunday). After buying bags full of non-perishables at Wal-Mart, my Mother, kids and I drove down to the Stadium prepared to drop off board games, diapers, hand sanitizer, toothbrushes, and so much more ... and there they were, people camped out in tents next to their SUVs, people loading up arms full of goods from the base camp where Coke and Wal-Mart trucks unloaded boxes by the hundreds, and I drove it home to my kids..."Next time you complain about your favorite pair of socks not being clean, remember what you see here, right now!" And I must remember this next time I complain about by DSL not being quick enough - in more ways than one, I am the luckiest girl I know.
Because of those Wal-Mart trucks and Coke deliveries, Qualcomm Stadium had everything the needed for the evacuees, they began turing away donations. Which is refreshing, isn't it? I fantasize about this sipirit of charity being ever-present among each other, less the motive of a tragedy.
Determined to make a positive impact, we drove to a nearby community center where I pulled up my SUV on the right side of ten orange cones and tired, shell-shocked people unloaded the bags of goods from my car. It wasn't as moving as I'd hoped it would be; I imagined seeing a little girl holding a teddy bear she clung to on her way out the the home she lost and was rushed out of, saying "Monopoly! Mommy, someone bought Monopoly for us!", but that's okay - I'm sure it happened, even if I didn't witness it. Someone was grateful. I don't feel as guilty. We helped.
So with school closed the rest of the week, my kids barred from going outside, what do you do after you've watched every DVD in the house, after your son is bored with his PSP, when the sinus meds make you sleepy and you have three kids who are climbing up the walls, hungry every ten minutes?
You remember that is one of the perils of paradise. Nothing comes without a cost, I guess. As I type, as I enjoy this pounding and releasing on my keyboard and play with my Tarot every few minutes (same card keeps coming up), my kids destroy the house. It's still standing, though. The smoke chokes you when you walk outside, but no flames have reached us. I didn't have to gather my belongings and rush out of my house before my life changed, but I have gathered myself more than a few times since Monday after moments of self-pity (cabin fever) or tearing as I read about horses tied to wooden fances surrounded by flames. This world just scares me to death sometimes, and my four walls don't look so unattaractive at that point.
Yet I can't wait until I get to go out and resume life as normal again, perils and all. If it's not a fire, it's a sexual predator moving in a mile away. If it's not a crazy, activity-packed schedule, it's a schedule being wiped clean and forced complacency. I think the worst enemy is where I go in my own head, but I'm working on it.
Because there are enough perils besides the ones that we create. Seems I have many opportunities to overcome them, and for that, I am lucky.
