Monday, October 21, 2019

Fire on Little Mountain

I'd just mentioned in that last post of having gotten renters’ insurance because of all the fires on little mountain and wouldn’t you know.
Along about 4:00, it sounded like Armageddon outside — dozens of fire vehicles racing down the street, sirens blaring.
My thoughts immediately turned to the Pacific Palisades fire, thinking that maybe they were headed that way to assist, but that area is more than an hour and a half away, so couldn’t be that … has to be something going on in our area.
Not smelling smoke, not hearing neighbors in a commotion outside, and totally engrossed in needlepoint work, I pushed the sirens out of my mind until 2 hours later when I heard helicopters overhead.
Stepping out onto the patio, I found 5 helicopters hovering over the complex. That could only mean yet another fire on Little Mountain.
Jumping onto Facebook, found the fire to be on the other side of the mountain — “16 fire engines, four chiefs, aircraft and two hand crews, making up roughly 75 firefighters total”.
I’ve a former coworker, now friend who lives on that side. The flames came close to her home that last time and I’ve not seen a posting from her yet as to how she fared this time.
My friend the Archeologist could see the flames from her front yard.
By 8:00, it was contained ─ homes lost but no loss of life.
Arson is suspected.
Time to revisit the go-bag.
On another topic, I called it correctly when I said I’d not be surprised to see the wife beater forgiven and back.
Heading to the Community Room this morning, to sign up for next week’s Halloween Costume Contest, I passed the wife at the mail box, said “Hey” without stopping to engage in conversation, entered the building, and there he was seated in the foyer at the far end of the hallway, by the Community Room door.
He waived.
When I got to where he was seated, I stopped just long enough to say “You still here?”
“I’m back for a few days, then I’m going to rehab”, said he.
Having been an abused wife myself, having to grab my 6 month old twins and flee for my life with the clothes we had on our backs, starting over with nothing, my heart is hardened against the both of them  that they've allowed this to go on through 33 years of marriage into what should now be their golden years. I just don't want to hear it. So, assuming “rehab” meant blaming his activities on overuse of prescription medication, said “Good luck with it” and then went about what I was there to do.
I’d been pondering for days about what to bring to the Halloween event.
Creepy deviled eggs are out of the question.
What with working out and needlepoint, I just don’t have the time or the inclination.
I looked at a couple recipes and found I could pretty quick make witch fingers out of premade cookie dough but, yet again, I don’t want to take time away from needlepoint for that. I decided the least I could do, after having disrupted next week’s Bingo, was to spring for deli fried chicken  ─ which the seniors love almost as much as bingo.
How did I disrupt Bingo you ask?
Well, I’d not initially planned to go to the Halloween event because the Resident Volunteer Activity Committee (RVA) advertised it as “Halloween Costumed Bingo, Thursday, October 31, 12 noon”.
When Apache and the Baker, both of whom spearhead the RVA, asked if I was coming, I said no, that I’d not be back from the Pain Cave until 12:15/12:30, and I wasn’t interested in bingo, they changed Halloween Bingo to Halloween Costume Contest/Potluck, 1:00.
So sweet of them, but bingo is huge around here. I’m going to be a marked woman if any of the seniors find out my schedule/my dislike of bingo is the reason there’s no bingo next week.
So, there’s that.
Heading back to my unit, I spotted the wife beater and his spouse in Assistant Manager's office. Getting him back on the lease I imagine.
The calendar for tomorrow indicates … “Fall Craft 10:00 – 12:00”.
Crafting is my thing, so hopefully Activity Director will actually show up at 10:00 — which will give me at least an hour to participate before I have to leave for the Pain Cave.
We’ll see.
P.S. I may have spoken too soon about the fire being completely contained because, it's 11:55 PM, I'm just finishing this post and there's a helicopter circling the area.


  1. Well, that fire was a bit too close for comfort, eh? And my gawd, woman, don't mess with bingo! Ha ha, hope no one finds out.

  2. I bought FEMA flood insurance for the last house I owned. I was several long blocks from the bayou but it was inexpensive and fit my Plan B mentality. A few years later it flooded extensively on the other side of the bayou. I had sold the house by then but I remember having a "There by the Grace of God" moment. Renter's insurance will be a great investment if the need is ever there.

  3. My friend moved to a 55 plus unit in FL. She got scolded by the caller for chatting during the first Bingo game she ever attended and was so embarrassed that she did not return. Next year they were desperately searching for a caller so she volunteered. She said " Now I am the one who can tell someone to be quiet!"

    1. Oh yes … talking during bingo is a felony. LOL.