Delving into my fear of wildfire...

Not much happening over the last couple of days. Gray, gloomy, RAIN, thank God, we were running pretty far behind on precip. totals. Still very much behind, but at least the forest service took the wildfire rating down to low 1. AND, knock on wood, we got through most of the fire season without very many fires. I am deathly terrified of fire, of all forms. I don't let very many people light my cigarettes because I'm SURE they are going to light my eyebrows on fire. When I was in the eighth grade, the smartass that sat behind me in Science lit my hair on fire. Burned a section about 3 inches across, 6 inches long off of the back of my head WHILE MY HAIR WAS STILL ATTACHED! Hence, my fear of fire.

And although I am scared of them, as long as it is far away from me, I am fascinated by wildfire (I just wrote that wildfar.... indication of what a redneck I am?). I love to watch it burn. The erratic flames rushing down hillside and up the next. The glow so bright at night, it almost hurts your eyes. The danger, the smell. The way it makes a harvest moon look. Like I said, just as long as it is far enough away. Put me within a mile of it, though and it's a different story. I used to live in Lake Tahoe, long ago and far away, back when I was married, in my foolish youth. There was a raging fire up there with quickly shifting winds and very rocky terrain. A local newscaster had gone up with the BLM and Forest Service on a ride along for this fire. He was out of the truck, filming the fire close up when the wind shifted and the fire started rushing their way. This man, he jumped into the back of the pickup, with all the faith that the BLM guy in the front would start up the pickup and they would dash off into safety and wouldn't that be a great story to tell at parties? Well, he ended up with more to tell than he bargained on. The fire was moving so quick, it sucked the oxygen from the air, therefore the truck wouldn't start (or died) because engines need oxygen to run and they were stranded. The reporter rolled underneath the toolbox as the fire consumed the truck and amazingly, the camera didn't quit. I remember it to this day (of course they aired it, how could they not?). You couldn't see anything, but the audio, oh my god. It gave me chills and made my spine hurt. The man screamed and screamed. And you could hear this growling, flicking, windy noise in the background. It was awful. The man lived. Only like 30% of his body was burned, the fire was moving THAT fast. But he lived and now he has a helluva story to tell. But I will never forget those screams or the sound of that fire, like demons from the pit of hell bearing down on the innocent. Never. And I suppose that's where a lot of my fear comes from. Because it's not like I'm dumb enough to get so close that I will be trapped in one. Me, at the first smell of wildfire, I'm looking for the escape routes, especially once I know where the smokes rolling in from. And if I wasn't so damn tired, I could go off on a completely different tangent with that last line.... because it does make a prophetic sort of statement, doesn't it?

Anyway, so my point was, and I did have one, was that although I love fall, I get kind of sad when the wildfire risk drops off because I do so love to watch them.

The boy was up off and on through the night, after a day from hell yesterday. He was a completely, rotten, ROTTEN child yesterday, well, until his nap. After that, he was ok. But before, goodness. We went and had lunch at the bar and he had a complete meltdown in front of everyone. Preachers and everything. I'm sure they went home and prayed for that poor cowboy child who was and is surely being abused. Close, but not hardly. I am hoping that this is just a phase he is going through. Not the person he is going to be. There are some parts of him that are soo very sweet. Like the absolute joy he gets from giving treats to his cousins. His laugh, especially when he is highly amused over something, and he is that, quite frequently. His fear of the dark and the certainty that mom will take care of him. But there is such a flip side to that, I just want to explode. At the end of the day, that is when it is the worst. Hopefully, it's just his tiredness and him being only 4 that is showing through, not his true colors. Good Lord in Heaven, do not (and I BEG), do not let him be a carbon copy of his father. With no respect for anyone or anything, least of all himself and his mother.