Looks Like Rain, Don't It?

I tried not to look shocked because, well, rain is unheard of this time of year. It usually stops raining in Southern California in March/April and doesn't normally begin again until November/December. So, when the gas station guy said it looks and feels like rain, I thought...what are you...crazy? The fact that it doesn't rain for most of the year encourages half the arsonists in America to move here. I really wish he'd been right and that it would rain.

On July 4 there was a little brushfire just up the street. We didn't smell the smoke (at first), we heard the roar of the fire helicopter about 150 feet above our house. Hmm, we thought, wonder what they're doing up here. Then a fire engine roared past our house. It's hard to actually roar past our house since our road is a series of blind curves, but they didn't seem worried about the lack of visibility. By the time Himself and I had walked to the bottom of our driveway, five big fire trucks had whizzed past, with another two to follow a bit later. Nothing like a fire to turn the locals out of their homes and within a couple of minutes, our normally quiet and empty road was dotted with other worried neighbors. I NEVER have my camera with me when it really counts so no pics to share. I wish I'd had a little tape recorder, though. The following are mini conversations I had with the folks who live around here ( in no particular order):

Me: Are you concerned?
Him: Nah, the wind is hardly blowing but I hosed down my roof anyway.

Me: Hi You Miserable Husband of the Bitchy Teacher of the Extremely, Amazingly Gifted and Talented. How are you, you hateful SOB and did you put dogshit in my wheelie bin when I left it by the street on trash pick-up day?
Him: Shut up you miserable tattle-tale bitch.[this particular exchange did not take place. he just glared at me and I smiled back]

Me: Wow, isn't that water heavy? [said to whacky looking guy who was transporting about 20 gallons of water on his back with a tube leading from the pack to his mouth, all the while driving a little four-wheeled ATV way too fast]
Him: Yeah, but you'd be surprised at how far 20 gallons can go. [blank stare from me]

Strung-out looking guy: What'd the fire dude say? They gonna be able to put this out or should I start packing?
Me: I think we're okay for now. [of course by the time I'd responded, he'd wandered off and was talking to himself]

Me: When do you actually decide to leave [said to some guy I'd never seen before]?
Him: This isn't dangerous.
Me: I guess that's why there are SEVEN FLIPPIN' HOOK & LADDER FIRE TRUCKS!
Him: They always over-react.
Me: Did you evacuate during the Malibu/Topanga fire in '93
Him: Of course not.
Me: .........
Him: Well, my wife and kids left, but I decided to stay and protect my home.
Me: .........
Him: Well, I stayed until the mandatory evacuation.
Me:...........
Him: Okay, well, good luck, bye.
Me: Bye

There seem to be a lot of these marginalized types. I don't know what that means but to me it means people between their 30s and 50s who just have done way too many drugs and just are living on the fringes. In other words, many of my neighbors. For the record, I also have some incredibly smart, articulate, fantastic neighbors.

The very next day there was a picture flippin' perfect Black Widow Spider [also no pics] dangling on a disorganized looking web just outside the living room door until I screamed at my husband to KILL IT! He killed it and then I yelled, "DAMN! That was so blogworthy."

[Note to others: I normally gently capture spiders between soft, downy layers of tissue, and deposit them safely outdoors, hoping they're not damaged in transit or separated from loved ones.]