High School

The fire has burned over a hundred thousand acres. It's 20 miles long and it continues to grow. The Fire Captain who characterized it yesterday as "angry" is now calling it "cranky." Whatever. The skies are thick, the air is smoky, even the dogs are miserable. Horses are evacuated and friends in La Canada and Lake View Terrace are still nervous. And it's still hot, too, with temperatures in the 90s. Someone put it into perspective by stating that "fire now 190 sq miles -- size of 4 San Franciscos or 8.5 Manhattans." And all that ash is making the sky a distinctly eerie shade of white.


Today is Minky's first day of high school. Stunning, isn't it? She washed her hair last night, blew it out, and told me she was going to sleep on it so it looked 'natural.' She gave me strict instructions for lunch, too. No pasta salad, nothing elaborate, just a simple sandwich. I suppose you don't want to be stigmatized because of your "fancy" lunch, do you? She picked her wardrobe carefully -- denim shorts, a simple sleeveless top, converse sneakers, black cardigan -- and agonized for hours about which bag would serve as a school bag (apparently backpacks are deeply uncool - who knew?). As this is the first time in three years she hasn't had to wear a school uniform, we have to take the dressing seriously. I just stand by and admire as constructively as possible, gazing at those long legs and wondering how it's possible we've gotten this far.

But what a day to start a new school.

We drove to the bus stop and parked. "Don't get out of the car" she instructed. "And don't take pictures." I sneaked one.



She jumped on the bus and I drove a safe distance away so I didn't appear to be stalking her. "OK?" I texted. "Kinda" she texted back. And then, a few minutes later "I cd also get off at the Doheny stop & go to Lemonade." Our family motto should be When in doubt, eat.