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About momdude

Space cadet | Family dude | Photographer | Music lover | Traveler | Science fiction fan | Hugo Award nominee | Writer | 5x NASA Social participant | KC Chiefs fan | LA Kings fan | Senior Director of Finance & Administration for ALS Network | Member & former staff Finance Officer at the Commemorative Air Force SoCal Wing | Hard core left-wing liberal | Looking for whatever other shenanigans I can get into

Calm After The Ordeal

A certain measure of calm has returned after the last two days of anxiety and fire.

(It’s a panoramic image – click to enlarge to all of its glory!)

The winds stayed calm last night. That helped a lot, at least in our area. There were still some massive areas burning down toward the ocean, especially around Pepperdine University, but many areas saw the fire’s spread slowing or coming to a halt.

Thursday night, when we first started dealing with the Woolsey Fire it was at 2,000 acres. This morning it was at 37,000 acres with 0% containment. (Thus the anxiety and packing of cars and mandatory evacuations of 250,000 people.)

When we got up it was smoky. We couldn’t see any open flame where we were, but everything that burned yesterday was smoldering. By noon there were a couple of spots down where Victory, Vanowen, and Kittridge all end at the Ventura County line (maybe two miles south of us) that had lit off again, but the water-dropping helicopters were on them pretty quickly.

We’re not out of the woods yet. Late tonight through Sunday we’re supposed to have the winds kick back up, possibly as bad or worse than they were yesterday. Given that most all of the brush in open areas has already burned near here, I’m not too worried about it for us, but we’ll keep the cars loaded overnight just in case. If the winds get chaotic and blowing from different directions through the canyons, smoldering brush lights off again, embers start getting thrown into new open areas (like Chatsworth Reservoir, let’s say), things could get exciting again.

But it’s like wearing your seat belt. You never expect to have an accident (well, at least *I* don’t, YMMV) but unless you’re an idiot you always wear a seat belt. I don’t expect to have to bug out at this point. I consider it far less likely than it was 24 hours ago. But I would hate to hit that one-in-a-whole-bunch circumstance, need to bug out, and do it with just the clothes on our backs just hours after unloading the cars.

We’re fine. We’ll be fine. It was nice to have a calm day. Let’s have another one tomorrow.

You too! We all deserve a little bit of calm.

 

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Filed under Disasters, Panorama, Photography

Trial By Fire

It’s been a really, really long day.

For the longest time this afternoon and evening I thought that I might be writing this tonight (if I were able to write anything at all tonight) from a hotel or a Red Cross evacuation center.

I’m still at home and it’s now looking like there won’t be a need to evacuate tonight, but it’s been touch and go for hours. We’re still packed into two cars and ready to go in 60 seconds if we get the word.

I was up a couple hours early for a big, all-day work event – that was cancelled early due to many of the key people either having to evacuate last night out of Westlake Village, Thousand Oaks, or Agoura, or because they were up all night preparing to evacuate if necessary, or because they couldn’t get here either way due to the multiple massive freeway closures caused by the fires.

This was what that fire looked like when I first got up this morning, off in the distance, pyrocumulus clouds billowing up to 8,000 feet or more.

But from the office, the smoke rising up from the fires smoldering near our house was pretty benign.

By the middle of the afternoon, that had started to change. While everyone pretty much thought that the fire near us had died down and was almost done, the right combination of wind and terrain kicked it up and I needed to bail out of the office early and get home.

I couldn’t even get home by the shortest route, so ended up by the old house where for the first time I saw that the fire had crossed the ridge from Ventura County into LA County. This view shows the northern end of the ridge, up by Chatsworth, but it was the same for ten miles, all the way south to Calabasas.

Remember how I said last night that I wouldn’t worry until I saw active flame coming over the ridge at Castle Peak? Here it is.

For the longest time I wasn’t too worried about it. It took a couple hours to burn from the top of the ridge down to here. At that rate it was never going to be a threat. I started loading up the cars with the valuables (photos, hard disks, overnight bags, important documents, etc) but figured it was just to get my exercise, not because we were going anywhere.

Then, about an hour before sunset, all hell broke loose. All along this ten-mile ridge line the fire just exploded.

The wind kicked up, the smoke started rising, and the flames started marching down the east flank of Castle Peak toward the homes at the bottom.

I was betting that the firefighters’ strategy was to let it burn like this as long as it was burning brush and open space. Then, when it gets to the houses, which should all be properly prepared with set back areas from the brush and defensible spaces all around, the fire gets hit hard and stopped in its tracks.

That’s pretty much what happened – here you can see the fire as it got to the base of the hill and the houses there, with a water-dropping helicopter above.

It’s a good thing that it worked. If the houses at the bottom of the hill had gone, a lot of embers and debris would have been thrown up into the air. The high winds would have pushed those embers out downwind into houses blocks away, starting new spot fires, with the pattern just repeating over and over. (Look at what happened last year in Northern California, or two days ago up by Chico, or a couple decades ago in Oakland for examples.) From those houses it’s about three blocks to Valley Circle – once the flames crossed Valley Circle it’s only three blocks up hill to us, and we all know how much flames love to climb up hill with a 45 mph wind pushing it!

So we had our two cars packed, on a hair trigger. Several of our neighbors found the point when their bug-out button gets pushed. I decided to stick it out.

And that’s worked. There are some hot spots out there along the fire lines tonight, but none of them are near us and shouldn’t be a threat. (Yes, I’m being selfish. I mean that it shouldn’t be a threat to my neighborhood. There are still some massive fires burning in Calabasas, Thousand Oaks, and Malibu. In particular, the Pepperdine University campus in Malibu is under a massive threat.)

Now the wicked winds have died down. I knew it even before I stopped noticing the wind – for the first time in this mess I can smell the smoke. Even though it was so close, less than a half mile, I haven’t smelled any smoke at all because of the ways the winds have been blowing . Not now. With no winds, the smoke just sits in the valley at the west end of the San Fernando Valley, starting to choke me.

So tonight I might sleep fully dressed and with one eye open and one ear listening for sirens and someone pounding on the door, but I will be sleeping at home.

And don’t worry, I *WILL* be able to sleep. I thought I was exhausted before this – I had no clue what real exhaustion was.

If you’re interested, you can probably catch live coverage on KTLA 5, CBS LA 2, or any other Los Angeles television station’s website. Or you can watch several Facebook Live posts that I put up today.

 

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Fire

We woke to horror this morning. Not one of those distant horrors (which are none the less horrifying due to their lack of proximity) but one at a spot I drive by every trip to the hangar.

Then in the afternoon I started to hear the sirens. Along Ventura Boulavard, the major thoroughfare where my office is located, it’s not unusual to hear sirens – but not one after another after another. Then I heard the planes.

Taking off out of Van Nuys, the Canadian fire fighting water bombers are a bad sign on a dry, windy day.

You know how much I love planes, but I prefer days when these guys get to stay on the ground.

The big fire here is out by Camarillo, near the hangar. It’s now at or above 20,000 acres and at last report there were hundreds of houses burned. But the really, really BIG fire in California is up by Chico, north of Sacramento, with possibly a thousand or more houses burned.

Then, near the end of the day today, while I was watching coverage of the Camarillo fire, they mentioned another fire that had just started up, just over the Ventura County line, near the old Rocketdyne test site out in the hills to the west of our house. You’ve seen the view from our neighborhood:

The fire is just on the other side of that big hill just to the left of center.

I decided to take off out of the office a few minutes early, just in case.

From the parking lot at work, about five miles away, you could easily see open flame along the hills.

Yeah, there on the right? That’s not a third light on that pole. That’s the hill burning over past our house.

Then after dark, the winds really started to howl:

With the humidity dropping down into low single digits (I didn’t even know you could get to only 2% relative humidity without being on Mars!) the small fire near us got bigger quickly.

Those multi-million dollar houses up at the top of Bell Canyon? Fantastic views of the city looking this way, great views of the open spaces and sunsets to the west. Amazing locations – until the fire starts marching toward your back yard.

I hope they just left the lights on before they evacuated instead of still being there.

Look at how low the smoke is lying, a sign that the winds are still blowing at 25 to 30 knots with gusts to 45. If it’s not that windy the smoke will billow upward.

There are a dozen or so helicopters still doing water drops, constantly ferrying back and forth between Chatsworth Reservoir and the fire site. It’s going to be a long, long night for all of those people.

Bell Canyon is under mandatory evacuations, and the Hidden Hills (gated community) at Valley Circle and the 101 Freeway (about three miles to our south) have been evacuated. The entire city of Calabasas is on watch – if this explodes and gets out of control it will go right through Calabasas, all the way to the Pacific Ocean in Malibu.

(We’re just above the “W” in “West Hills.”)

I’m not too worried about being in a lot of danger or needing to evacuate. The fire is to our west and being pushed from the north to the south. Even with the flames and smoke less than two miles away, we can’t even smell any of the smoke.

I’ll sleep with one nostril open just in case that changes, but in the meantime I’m going to try to get some sleep and hope that we don’t wake up to an even bigger fire or another mass shooting tomorrow morning.

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Yes

A couple of possibly-not-so-disparate thoughts merge:

First, I’ve mentioned many times the healing ability of the right music at the right time. When it’s been yet another shit day in a long string of shit days and there’s no realistic possibility of an escape to a pillow fort, there’s a lot to be said for the right music to take you out of the doldrums, exhaustion, and self-loathing.

But how do you find the “right” music when you’re so down in the dumps that even your “favorites” playlist just sounds like the same garbage that you always listen to and that’s not going to cut it?

Secondly, I’ve mentioned before the scene in “The Princess Bride” when Inigo Montoya prays to his dead father for guidance after the trail has gone cold in his search for the six-fingered man. Inigo closes his eyes, raises his sword, and staggers around like he’s dousing for water, only to impale the sword in a tree. As he collapses in defeat he hits the hidden switch on the tree that opens the secret door that leads to the stairway that goes down to the dungeon which leads him…

Sometimes you just have to have some faith. It may be the subconscious, it might be fate, it might be a freakin’ guardian angel for all I care.

(On a tangential side note, it suddenly occurs to me that if I’ve actually, really, honest to god **GOT** a guardian angel [for the record, I’m a card carrying atheist for the past 50+ years, or a “recovering Catholic” if you will after doing the whole Catholic school, altar boy thing] he/she must really be getting a workout. I might almost feel sorry for them – if they existed. Which they don’t. So I don’t.)

Anyway… (Sorry, I’m in the final stages of fighting a cold for the past five or six days and between that and the office and the hangar and *LIFE* I’m sort of scattered.)

Music. We were talking about music. And faith.

I went on a search through my monstrously huge digital music collection. I might have prayed to Inigo Montoya.

And I landed on two albums from 1972 by Yes – “Close to the Edge” and “Fragile.”

Perfect!!

And apparently somewhere along the line I got a CD of “Close to the Edge” that has extra tracks – which I don’t remember ever actually listening to. There’s a version of Paul Simon’s “America” in there which is just amazing. That’s a favorite song to begin with, but this version is so different and yet still has the soul of the favorite. (Wikipedia tells me that it was released as a single by Yes – why didn’t anyone tell me??!!)

“Close to the Edge”

“Siberian Khatru”

“Roundabout”

“South Side of the Sky”

Oh, my god, “Heart of the Sunrise!!!!!”

All those things that had me pissed off and down? *NONE* of them went away. There all still there. I’ve been working on a few of them all night. They’re not all going to get resolved tonight, this week, this month, or this year. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

You know that bumper-sticker wisdom about how you can’t change things but you can change the way you react to them?

Yeah, this is that.

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Filed under Music, Paul

My Voting Experience

No biggie, actually – but there was a unique experience.

At the old house, our polling place was usually at the elementary school that was literally 250 yards down the block. No hardship involved. Now it’s a mile or so away, so still not much of big deal.

It’s a big church auditorium, so there are actually three or four precincts voting there. You go to the pink table or the green table or the yellow table or the blue table… When I pulled up about 6:30 after getting out of work it looked like a 15-20 minute wait in line. Not so! That’s the line for folks who didn’t know which table they were supposed to go to or who wanted to get a provisional ballot. There were plenty of polling place workers who were more than happy to help steer those of us with our voting materials straight to the table we needed. It took 30 seconds to get to my table.

I gave them my information, signed in, got my ballot – and things got odd.

Behind me I heard someone talking to the polling place worker at the table. It was a young guy, maybe 20, asking if he could vote. But he didn’t know if he was registered or not. He didn’t think so, but didn’t know. I think it was pretty obvious that he was a first-time voter and very confused about what was happening and what he was supposed to be doing or have done.

The polling place worker was telling the guy that if he hadn’t registered to vote, then he couldn’t vote. Better luck next time. The kid was about to leave.

When someone intervened, interrupted, and got involved. Somewhat surprisingly, I realized it was me.

One thing that I’ve seen over and over and over in the last few weeks is that California is a state where you can walk up, register, and cast a provisional ballot on the spot. You just have to ask for it.

The kid obviously didn’t know that. Unfortunately, neither did the polling place worker. Fortunately, I did.

So I politely corrected the worker and pointed out what I had seen hundreds of times in the past week from reputable and neutral sources. He disagreed, said that he had never heard of that. So I went and got the supervisor for our section, who said, “OF COURSE that’s the law, obviously! OF COURSE this guy can vote with a provisional ballot!”

The supervisor was very helpful and quick to verify that the kid could vote and then walked him through the process.

I went and did my voting, and finished up about the same time as the kid did. As we were leaving I was repeatedly thanked for helping by both the kid and the polling place supervisor.

That felt great, but I don’t think that I did that much. Better than the thanks was knowing that this young man got to vote for the first time in his life. And that he was excited about it. And that despite his anxiety and uncertainty, he carried on anyway and got it done.

It was a good day to vote. I hope you did as well.

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Vote Like Your Life Depends On It – It Does

Not much else to say. Here in the US we’re on the eve of the midterm elections. You all know what’s going on and who’s in the White House.

If you’re at all legally eligible, please go vote tomorrow. This will undoubtedly be the most important election in our lifetimes.

Two years ago we were stunned, blitzed, caught off guard by the complete abandonment of norms by one of the two major parties. (I would argue that when all of this is said and done we’ll see multiple major figures in jail, possibly for high treason, but that’s a different argument for a different time.) Two years ago we were bombarded with arguments of, “How bad can it really be? It’s just going to be business as usual! You’re totally over reacting!”

Now we know how bad it can be. Actually, we’ve seen glimpses of it – if not checked now, we’ll find out that this was just the pre-season.

Now we know that it’s not business as usual. Our entire society and in fact the entire world’s structure is being threatened with chaos.

Now we know that we sadly underestimated how horrific things could get and how quickly that could happen.

So get out there and vote tomorrow.

I’m an old, middle class, cis, white guy. Who lives in California. Except for the exposure to previously unthinkable rights violations and unconstitutional abuses being heaped on my neighbors, I’ll get by just fine.

My grandkids and their grandkids (should there ever be any…) might not fare so well after the current regime tips the planet right over the edge of a climate shift that leaves the planet unable to support a human population at even 10% of the current levels in our lifetimes. That chaos might be a bit tough.

YOU might not do so well if you’re not old. Or if you’re not in that upper 1% economically. Or if you’re not cis. Or if you’re not a guy.

There’s a meme going around which I posted on Facebook. It shows the Nazi wannabes from last year with their Home Depot tiki torches vs. the torch being held high by the Statue of Liberty – the caption says “America – Time To Pick A Torch.”

Tomorrow. Vote. Vote to pick the torch held by the lady in the harbor.

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Changes While We Weren’t Looking

First of all, let me be the latest to whine about Daylight Saving Time. I hate it for all of the usual reasons that everyone else hates it, but I’ll add my perspective based on our society’s transition to how clocks are set.

If you’re anything like me, your watch, phone, computer, tablet, and cable box all updated themselves last night. They’re all computers talking to other computers and those other computers are talking to the Colossus computer (howdy, Dr. Forbin!) somewhere a mile under some Colorado mountain and the Colossus is hooked into an atomic clock that’s accurate to within a fraction of a microsecond between now and the heat death of the universe. Since they’re all talking, they all make sure that they’re all using the same time frame.

But there are still clocks in our lives that aren’t in that particular computer clique and they have to be reset manually. My bedside clock radio with the honkin’ big red numbers, the wall clocks in the bathroom that are running on a solitary AAA battery, the dashboard clocks in the cars, the clock in the microwave… Time has to be spent hunting down and changing all of those clocks.

That’s not the problem.

The problem is that over time all of these clocks, both sets, will drift a bit. With the computer clocks, they’ll talk to the Mother Ship clock periodically (daily? hourly?) and all get on the same page again. But those manual clocks will get a bit off here and there, which we’ll compensate for in our heads. I know that the bedside clock is a couple of minutes slow, the one in the master bathroom is a minute fast, the one in the guest bathroom is a minute slow, and the one in the old van just blinks because it’s too damn hard to figure out how to set to begin with.

But I’m not going to set them to be off by that amount again! That would be stupid, even by my anal standards. Instead, they all get set to match my watch and/or phone, which in turn match the computer, the cable box… You get the picture.

But tomorrow morning when that alarm goes off and I look at the the clock to see “07:00” I’m going to have to remember that it’s really 7:00, not 7:02.

What a pain!

Meanwhile, while dealing with all of that, we found out this morning that while we were out of town last week one of the bus boys at our “normal” Sunday morning restaurant has been promoted to a waiter’s position. Great, we like him! Except, where’s Connie, my ketchup queen? Oh, that’s why George got promoted? But Connie was our favorite!

Furthermore, when we get to the grocery store after breakfast, we find that in that same week out of town they’ve done a “Fifty-Two Pick Up” on how the store’s arranged, so our ten minute shopping routine turned into over twice that as we just tried to figure out which aisle now had the sodas, where the olive oil got hidden, and who in hell thought it was a good idea to put the potato chips way over THERE?

Somehow it’s all connected, and I’m sure there are stupid politicians behind it all somehow.

 

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Buttons

What’s up with buttons these days?

Specifically, has there been some amazing but unsung advance in thread technology in the past couple of decades? Something that has completely escaped my attention?

I ask because it occurred to me while putting on my shirt this morning that it’s been YEARS since I lost a button on a shirt or jacket.

I can remember back in my single dad days that it was not uncommon to have a button come off once every month or so. Not to mention all of the buttons that came off of the kids’ clothes when they were much younger. I always had to have needle and thread handy, so much so that I kept one pre-threaded at all times in the valet on my dresser.

Now? I literally can’t remember the last time I had to sew on a button or lost one.

Trust me, as I’ve aged, my svelte, sexy, six-pack abs have expanded more than enough to put some massive strain on the shirt buttons. (David Attenborough narrator voice: “There were never any svelte, sexy, six-pack abs.“) There are plenty of shirts that I can only get on with some serious gut sucking, yet when I have the need to actually take a full breath, no buttons fly across the room like shrapnel.

So what changed? I’m clueless.


In other news, my brain really needs to get out more.

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…Led To The First Sunset Of November

Yesterday I was up much earlier than normal to head off to a meeting and I caught the first sunrise of November. While there’s no guarantee that a glorious sunrise will be followed by an equally colorful sunset, I was delighted to find this outside as I was leaving the office about eleven hours later:

Orange in the morning, purple and pink and orange in the evening.

I imagine I could probably get tired of this and bored by it in, oh, say, a couple thousand years…

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The First Sunrise Of November…

Thanks to an early meeting at an offsite location that’s a bit of a drive, I was up this morning to catch the first sunrise of November. And I thought the yellow, golden, glowy one looked good a few days ago!

And then, about eleven hours later…

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