Don't have much to write about. Yesterday, I was walking the dogs when I got a text that a fire had started about a half mile from our house in a very dry area.
At the same time, a car went by, and Cooper went nuts. So, as we got to our house, Phoebe was all excited and wrapped herself around the mailbox—literally pulling the entire mailbox out of the ground. Now I look up, and two Cal Fire tankers are flying over, along with the sound of about ten sirens going in all directions. So I call my wife and tell her that my hands are kind of tied right now and ask if she can start preparing to evacuate. She says, "What the hell do you want me to do?"
I just explain, "You know, get all our valuables in a bag and maybe some clothes, and, you know, be prepared." She says, "And what about the donkeys?"
Fortunately, except for the mailbox, it all worked out.