Totally Monday here, and the smoke around Ourtown, CA is stinky and so thick it makes the sunshine come through all ugly bruise-yellow. The news said I shouldn’t go outside, as the air was bad to breath. Let’s think on that: The air is bad to breath. Where can I run?
As I walked to my car after work and looked off into the hazy distance, I tired to imagine this place void of all modern construction: Rolling foothills of mostly grass and dotted with trees and loose rocks of all sizes. I pictured a tribe of Native Americans encamped in one of those copses of trees, maybe near a small stream or decent hunting – and tried to imagine what the blanket of rank smoke would have meant to them. Move; maybe. Pick up stakes; fire is coming. Check which way the wind is blowing and throw the kids in their papooses and head right along with it. Life sure is easier when you can hit the grocery store with a rock from your couch.
I worked a little bit tonight on setting up a blog for Sharaun. See, she’s been asking me for a while if she can have a blog (she reads some other “mom blogs” I frequent). She’s not sure she’d be diligent enough to write regularly, but I figured I’d set something up for her and let her play around to see if she likes it. She mostly wants to tell stories about, and post pictures of, Keaton. Secretly, I think this would be awesome – and I kinda wish she’d decide to do it. Anyway, once she’s up and running I’ll see about getting a link here on my blog so you can check her out.
Gosh. I just have nothing left to write. I was so happy it was cool enough to open up the house last night after the sun went down – then I remembered the smoke. I did it anyway.
Saving money. Goodnight.