We are 15" behind in rainfall.
There were no fireworks at first night because of the burn ban.
One neighboring state is totally engulfed.
We've been under a wind advisory all day. It' still 65 degrees and the wind is about 30 mph.
And my neighbor across the street has a charcoal grill going... a fire about 2 foot tall. Hubster and I stood on the porch and watched embers settle in the leaves by my car. I couldn't stand it. I crossed the street in my pooh-head slippers and stood at the front porch. There was a stairway to the house of the firebug, but the little grill was snapping and popping and I was wearing flammable animal heads on my feet. So I stood there and hollered "hello?"
Braving spontanous pooh-head combustion, I climbed up the steps and beat on the door. RA makes my knuckles SORE so beating on a door is hard -- even more so where there's vicious wind.
Neighbor came out, promised to put a lid on the fire. First he tried to tell me it was all okay, then a gust of wind sent embers everywhere as we talked. He's just grilling stakes he said. I wanted to say "steaks and a Nissan Altima" but I was polite and meek. That tends to make things not a confrontation. "Your fire's freaking me out a little. Can you stay by it? We're watching the embers hit the trees."
But yeah, where was hubby during all this?
On the porch watching me.
If he'd gone with me, it might have been a confrontation. But I feel like, hey man! Thanks for the support.
I'm sure he would have run across the street and ripped the flaming Winnie the Poohs off my feet if needed.
It's so hard being the butch one.