Aug 16, 2016 |
The Bluecut Fire is a bad dream. This fire went from zero to over 18,000 acres in twelve hours. Twelve. Hours.
I’m not sure what I’m going to wake up to tomorrow. I’m not sure I want to go to bed tonight.
I’ve posted photos and updates on Facebook throughout the day. Here’s the collection.
The fire started around 10:30 am. I was at working, jamming out to Luke Bryant on the local country station and writing new policies for a client when my boss came into the main area. She was on her cell phone and changed the radio. Now, normally, I have few issues with this. Except, like I said, it was Luke Bryant. So I say, “What are you doing to my radio station?” As if I own Luke Bryant and his country swagger. She says, “(Hubby) is on the phone. Did you know there’s a fire in the Pass?”
So I sigh. Because the Pilot Fire was just contained like, yesterday. After seven days and 9,000+ acres. Some of the policies I wrote today had been waiting for the fire restriction to be lifted for the last week. So this morning I was a happy camper insurance agent. Notsomuch by this afternoon.
I finish with my client, say ciao, and decide to take a peek out the back door. MoJoGirlSayWhaaaat?! I expected a smoke cloud along the lines of what we had last week. Which I thought was bad. But it retrospect, I’d take that almost any day over what I saw. It was like freaken Armageddon.
And it just keeps growing. Like, crazy growing. Every news update has this thing exponentially growing like a bad science experiment.
So I took a few photos.
And at the end of the day, I head home. Which takes me toward the storm.
Have you ever been inside a disaster movie?
There’s a quality in the air, an electricity that pricks you from the inside of your nerves and travels throughout your body. You hold your breath and hyperventilate all at the same time. It’s a sensory overload, and you look at the traffic around you and everyone else is gawking at the strange orange-red sky.
Orange-Red Sky.
Now, we get wildfires out here, it’s part of the climate. The drought makes it worse, but we get through. Most smoke clouds are thick, grey, a little dark.
Today’s clouds – clouds – are orange-red. Like the ash clouds themselves are on fire. They’re not reflecting the fire, they are the fire.
And I’m holding my breath and trying not to see the beautiful colors because the devastation is only beginning.
My friends are evacuating. Historic sites are burnt down. The only freeway is closed in both directions. And the wind keeps blowing it closer in my direction.
So tonight, my go-bag is packed. My crate is packed. My food essentials are packed. And the cat crates are out and open.
I don’t think I’ll have to evacuate. I think there are too many buildings between there and here. But that knowledge doesn’t help when red ash is falling.
And I think this is something worth documenting.
BlueCut Fire Around 1pm, Hesperia.
Blue Cut Fire, Day 1. Hesperia, CA.
Blue Cut Fire, Day 1. Hesperia, CA.
Blue Cut Fire, Day 1. Around 5pm, Hesperia, CA.
Blue Cut Fire, Day 1. Around 5:15 pm, Main Street, Hesperia, CA.
Blue Cut Fire, Day 1. Around 5:20 pm, Main Street and Locust, Hesperia, CA.
Blue Cut Fire, Day 1. Around 5:20 pm, Main Street and Locust, Hesperia, CA.
Blue Cut Fire, Day 1. Around 5:25 pm, Backyard at Bedford Manor, Hesperia, CA.
Blue Cut Fire, Day 1. Around 6:50 pm, Backyard at Bedford Manor, Hesperia, CA.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
May 16, 2015 |
It’s almost 1 a.m. Sunday morning. Well, my watch tells me it’s only 9:45 pm, but I’m in North Carolina now, so it’s three hours later. Which makes it thisclose to sunrise. Ok, not really. There’s still an opportunity to catch some zzz’s but I just can’t go to sleep without sharing what the last 24 — okay, 36 — hours have been like.
Having been blessed with a scholarship and a share in the travel expense, I’m — wait for it. No, I can’t quite get my head around it yet. But yes, it’s true.
I’m at Blue Ridge! The Blue Ridge. The Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference. It is, to my knowledge, the largest and best Christian Writers Conference in the nation. And I just happen to know a girl who knows a guy who knows a guy . . . you know how the story goes.
#BRMCWC
I’m a good writer striving to be great, but without those connections, I’d be asleep in my bed back in California right now. Instead, I’ve worked my way here by writing, winning, striving, and socializing.
Throughout this upcoming adventure, I hope to share with you grand stories of what I’m learning, who I’m meeting, and what you can do to get here next year.
But . . . it’s almost 1 a.m. And I’ve had a crazy 36-ish hours. So let me run down the build up of how we got here.
My writing mentor, Aaron Gansky, is on faculty for Blue Ridge. Some months ago, he, his wife (my good friend Naomi), and I got together and prayed. They really felt I should be here. I wasn’t so sure. I wanted to come, but I wasn’t sure I was ready. I wasn’t sure, if I was ready, how I would get here.
Flash forward through lots of prayers, hard work, scholarship applications . . . and here I am. Along with my good friend Beckie Lindsey (follow her blog here!).
The Three Writing Amigos. . . and a Photobombing Flight Attendant
Being the frugal person I am, I suggested we fly out of Vegas because it’s cheaper. It’s only a three hour drive, and hey, who doesn’t love a good coin toss now and then. Right? I was also hoping for perhaps a northward layover so I could at least lunch with my daughter and her new husband in Seattle.
Yeahhhh. . .
Aaron’s flight had to be booked first through the Conference. He asked, on my recommendation, to fly out of Vegas and they obliged. Unfortunately, the flightpath is directly east, not north.
That’s okay. I followed suit and booked the same flights and close seating, and reserved the same for Beckie. She was on vacation in Mexico and I had no way of getting in touch with her except a short email that gave her the reservation number and the message of “They can only hold it for 24 hours!”
Thankfully, she saw the message in time, and was able to also book the same flight and neighboring seats.
Now, you would think at this point things are going smoothly, right? Not so much. Because in our zeal to fly cheaper out of Vegas, two things happened: we realized that in order to get to the airport in time for a morning flight, we’d have to drive up the night before. That’s right. Drive. North. On the 15 Freeway. To Vegas. On a Friday night. Thank you, Molly. I’m sure that’s what they were saying. I’m just not sure it was in a tone I care to recall.
Then comes the problem of where do we stay? I thought perhaps we could drive up after midnight and sleep in the car for a few hours, but they didn’t approve. Something about neck cramps and crazy talk. So I shouted out to my friend Corrie who lives in Vegas and after twelve seconds she invited us to stay at her house, and she even promised lattes in the morning!
Compliments of Casa de Corrie <3
After trying for several attempts online to pre-check, I had to call US Airways, who transferred me back to American Airlines who said everything looks fine, I just need to actually check in at the airport instead of online.
No worries, because Beckie did, too. Apparently, they didn’t like that the ticket was reserved “Beckie” but her legal name is “Rebecca”. And Aaron? He checked in just fine and I can’t guarantee this, but I think he might have been rolling eyes at us women by now.
At the check in, I received one boarding pass. To Charlotte, NC. I asked, “Do I get my other boarding pass in Charlotte?” To which the clerk responded, “Oh, you’re going to Charlotte?”
Now you would think I would have had some red flags go up at this point, but the truth is, with the three of us all trying to check in and get our passes with three different clerks and verifying names and seats and checking baggage . . . I just went with it. He corrected my ticket and we were ready to go.
Beckie got her boarding pass. I got my ticket. Aaron got his headache. And away we went. Up the People Mover, to the tram, down a level, up an escalator, through the halls, to the plane. And we pre-checked our carry-on luggage, although kept our laptops with us personally. [NOTE TO SELF: Always, always ALWAYS keep your computer and phone chargers with your computer and phone. Always.]
At the pre-check, once again my carry-on was tagged to go only as far as Charlotte. Jim M. was the only helpful person in this entire fiasco so I promised him a shout out. He worked behind the counter taking care of “one problem at a time”. First, my carry-on pre-checked bag was properly tagged for Asheville. Second, my reservation was confirmed. And therein lay the problem. Somehow my connecting ticket from Charlotte to Asheville was errantly confirmed by the man downstairs for a flight I couldn’t possibly be on–a flight that left Charlotte at 4pm when I wouldn’t even arrive until 4:40.
Jim M. worked his computer magic and reset my reservation, with my original seating. Problem Number Two solved.
Then he told me the bad news is the checked bag, from Mr. Man Downstairs, was probably going to stop at Charlotte. He tried to key in the information, but the system had just had enough of me and would go no further.
What can you do? We boarded our flight and a short four hours later landed in Charlotte. Per Jim M’s instructions, I immediately rushed the boarding counter to explain they had to “stop that plane!” or at least make sure my baggage was forwarded to the proper address. The woman politely told me I was wrong, there was nothing she could do, but chances are my bag was properly identified and on the plane anyway.
Okay. Our stomachs were beginning to hurt almost as much as our heads at this time so we just went with it. I mean, my carry-ons have the most important items: laptop, wallet, conference/writing Binder, Captain America T-Shirt and two Magic The Gathering decks.
We ate at Whiskey River in Charlotte and had just enough time to stresslessly board the last leg from Charlotte to Asheville.
They’re called Dirty Tots . . . and they’re delicious!
You know where this is going, don’t you?
Of course, we arrived just fine, but my suitcase didn’t. So we (and by “we” I mean “me-but-they-had-to-follow-because-I’m-the-one-getting-the-rental-car”) started toward the Ticket Counter to make a claim only to find there were several others in the same situation. Before I could say anything, someone said, “Oh, you must have come from Charlotte.” And that someone was behind the counter. What does that tell you? [Don’t fly into Charlotte if it can be avoided.]
We find out my bag was napping in Charlotte, where they would give it a nice bed for the night and deliver to me within twenty-four hours. In the meantime, they reversed the $25 check-baggage fee, gave me a claim form, a $25 credit for the claim so I can at least buy pajamas, and a really nifty one-night-only toiletry bag.
U.S. Airways Awesome Complimentary Gift for Losing My Luggage
I’m tellin’ ya, I felt like a Superstar. NOT. [But I did get these awesome SuperHero PJ’s thanks to the bill I’m sending them!]
Marvel Avengers PJs. How could I not?
But enough was enough and we’re exhausted so we finish up there, get the rental car, and head out. The Ridgecrest Conference Center is about thirty miles from the airport. If you turn left.
Of course, we didn’t. We turned right. And about 45 minutes into our should-have-been-27-minutes drive, we realized we were lost. And by “we” I mean “Aaron-because-he-was-driving-and-it-was-his-GPS-that-did-us-in” kind of “we”.
Aaron’s dad, Alton Gansky, is co-director of this conference. His flight was scheduled to come in about three hours after ours.
I said “Wouldn’t it be funny if we arrive at Blue Ridge at the same time your folks do?”
And guess what happened?
The neat ending for me was getting a hug from Al because I’d not met him in person before today. . . er, yesterday. Last night. Whenever it was! He’s on the Firsts in Fiction podcast every Wednesday with Aaron, and we have the opportunity to talk writing a lot. But this was the first time in several years of knowing who he was, that I finally met him. And he hugged me.
I’m a huggy person. And so right then, it didn’t matter what kind of day it’s been. I’d arrived at Blue Ridge. We had our room key. I had my we’re-sorry-we-screwed-up-but-take-this-dollar-bag-for-your-humungous-inconvenience-toiletry bag, and a hug from Alton Gansky.
I have Nippers and my Harmon Bear, which smells like Lizzie cat.
But now it’s nearly 2 a.m., breakfast is in five hours, and I’m ready for bed.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
“What’s the Word?” Wednesday: Aaron Gansky on Magic and Writing
But I’m not good enough to attend a Christian writers conference . . .
Following Fabian
Dec 14, 2014 |
Saturday was the monthly meeting of the California Writers Club, High Desert Branch. I’ve been a member for just under two years and have been, well, no other word suffices ~ I have been blessed.
To be surrounded with a group of like-minded people who “get” the why of writing, who quote and embellish and say “Wait!” as we write a note on anything including our own skin if there’s no paper around ~ these are the people I live with and for.
The critique groups, salons, meetings, and friendships are more than I ever anticipated being a part of. And those are on the regular days.
The Wordsmiths Critique Group
Then there’s the special moments, like Saturday’s meeting. Our branch president, Dwight Norris, arranged for this month’s guest speaker to be none other than Charles Dickens . . . okay, so, obviously, not really, since the man’s been dead for nearly a hundred and fifty years.
Dwight Norris and Charles Dickens (Paul Jacques)
Our speaker, Paul Jacques, portrays Charles Dickens in the Riverside (CA) Dickens Festival each year. He regaled us with his performance filled with history, biographical information, Dickens quotes and readings, and all-around literary magic.
I was lucky enough (or just early enough) to get the front row center seat which enabled me to capture some memorable photos and video.
Molly Meets Dickens
As you’ll recall from the very few (okay, two) videos I’ve ever posted, I’m not exceptionally gifted in the video editing department. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this little blurb I put together.
And may God bless you, every one.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Some Christmas Trivia
Destination: Mission Inn Festival of Lights
How Bedford Manor Got Its Name
Oct 29, 2012 |
When you think of California and Waves, I’m pretty sure the last thing that comes to mind is ice. But when Un-Son Number One gets his skates on, that’s all that matters.
Ethan on Ice
You’ve often read about our Second Family. We do so much together. But there are some differences. I can’t get them to watch the Yankees unless there’s a bet, and they’re still working on over three years of teaching us about hockey.
I discovered something yesterday: if they had tried to teach me while at a live game, I would have learned much quicker. The tiny puck on a TV screen does not do justice to the Game.
Ethan plays Winger for the California Wave, an amateur hockey league that practices and holds their home games at the Center Ice Arena in Ontario, CA. And yesterday, this proud Un-Mom got to watch him play!
I would love to tell you terms and plays. The truth is, I still know very little. I know a hat-trick means one player scores three times in the same game. And if the puck enters the net past the Goalie, even if it rebounds it’s still a goal.
The amateur league games are free to watch, which also makes it an even better family affair. Since warm air rises, we sat on the upper level and looked down on the ice. Julie, Jeff and Elisa had to suffer in the score box. Their bodies will chilled but the teams were hot!
Hockey is a very fast-paced game, and the score was 1-3 before I glimpsed the first goal. The action doesn’t just stay with the puck. There are players crashing each other into walls, the whoosh of skates slicing up clouds of icy dust, and burly tumbles all in pursuit of that little black disc.
Wave vs. OC Hockey
Chasing that Puck
Fight for the Goal
Defense!
Third Quarter Start
It’s exciting, challenging, and over way too fast. Even though the Wave played well, The OC Hockey Club took the game at 5-7. A minor disappointment for such a great team.
I’m glad there’s another home game in two weeks.
In the meantime, I think I’ll do some light reading.
[AMAZON AFFILIATE LINK]And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
