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radiantfractureIt's been a lucky summer here for smoke. That much by way of luck no one could argue, and with friends seeking better air by fleeing from Santa Cruz to Los Angeles -- Los Angeles -- that much luck is a lot.
Still, we aren't actually blessed by protagonist rules here (and when the big quake comes everyone will remember that). Sometime in the night the wind from Washington state turned north and the smoke began to creep in under the doorsill, as it were, of the sky.
I first noticed the smoke on Saturday. The change was subtle -- just a shift in the spectrum of morning light that could have been an especially mellow late summer glow, except that we have learned over the last, what, eight years or so, that this aureate turn, though beautiful in its early stages, signals no good.
Still, subtle. Just that extra dose of gold in the September sunrise, and a faint smell that could have been someone burning brush in their yard, if the yard wound through the whole city. I was more telling myself a story about smelling smoke than actually smelling it.
Today when I opened my eyes to check the two rectangles on the ceiling that signal what kind of day it's going to be, they were a fiery orange, and I knew the smoke had settled in like a big mean marmalade cat stifling the city under its belly. (There's my Raymond Chandler moment.)
I shut my windows and checked the air levels, which I haven't done all year until now. They were off the top of the chart, in that no-soul's-land above 10 where the technicians just wrote "+", like those radiation counters at Chernobyl that only went up so high. How bad is the air? + bad. I stayed inside until early afternoon, for reasons including, though certainly not limited to, the smoke.
By the early evening the air had cleared out to a 4, the low end of moderate risk; I sat in the square with K., drinking Limonata to wet my dry mouth, and we talked about personal narrative and trying to find readings for my course that are more... cheerful? Funny thing to be talking about, really, in the smoke, in a street patio that exists because of a pandemic, in, you know, the world that is the world, but you do need to give people some variety or they'll think writing is just a record of individual and collective doom.
Which, maybe, but there can also be jokes.
On that note, the sustaining literary middle C, if you know of any good personal essays that are funny and/or celebratory (they don't need to be wholly cheerful, just not unremittingly bleak -- uplifting of at least one corner of the blanket fort) -- wow, would I like to hear about those. I'd be grateful and so would my students.
* * * * * *
Because it's the start of term, and because I am who I am, I have a toothache, broken glasses, and bloodwork that needs to be filled (after I accidentally put the last order through the wash.) Oh, and I'm supposed to find someone who has a home blood pressure cuff, which, my doctor assured me during our video call, is not that unusual.
Quick poll (I can't do polls): do you own a blood pressure cuff and how many blood pressure cuffs are owned in your immediate circle, however you define it?
{rf}
Still, we aren't actually blessed by protagonist rules here (and when the big quake comes everyone will remember that). Sometime in the night the wind from Washington state turned north and the smoke began to creep in under the doorsill, as it were, of the sky.
I first noticed the smoke on Saturday. The change was subtle -- just a shift in the spectrum of morning light that could have been an especially mellow late summer glow, except that we have learned over the last, what, eight years or so, that this aureate turn, though beautiful in its early stages, signals no good.
Still, subtle. Just that extra dose of gold in the September sunrise, and a faint smell that could have been someone burning brush in their yard, if the yard wound through the whole city. I was more telling myself a story about smelling smoke than actually smelling it.
Today when I opened my eyes to check the two rectangles on the ceiling that signal what kind of day it's going to be, they were a fiery orange, and I knew the smoke had settled in like a big mean marmalade cat stifling the city under its belly. (There's my Raymond Chandler moment.)
I shut my windows and checked the air levels, which I haven't done all year until now. They were off the top of the chart, in that no-soul's-land above 10 where the technicians just wrote "+", like those radiation counters at Chernobyl that only went up so high. How bad is the air? + bad. I stayed inside until early afternoon, for reasons including, though certainly not limited to, the smoke.
By the early evening the air had cleared out to a 4, the low end of moderate risk; I sat in the square with K., drinking Limonata to wet my dry mouth, and we talked about personal narrative and trying to find readings for my course that are more... cheerful? Funny thing to be talking about, really, in the smoke, in a street patio that exists because of a pandemic, in, you know, the world that is the world, but you do need to give people some variety or they'll think writing is just a record of individual and collective doom.
Which, maybe, but there can also be jokes.
On that note, the sustaining literary middle C, if you know of any good personal essays that are funny and/or celebratory (they don't need to be wholly cheerful, just not unremittingly bleak -- uplifting of at least one corner of the blanket fort) -- wow, would I like to hear about those. I'd be grateful and so would my students.
* * * * * *
Because it's the start of term, and because I am who I am, I have a toothache, broken glasses, and bloodwork that needs to be filled (after I accidentally put the last order through the wash.) Oh, and I'm supposed to find someone who has a home blood pressure cuff, which, my doctor assured me during our video call, is not that unusual.
Quick poll (I can't do polls): do you own a blood pressure cuff and how many blood pressure cuffs are owned in your immediate circle, however you define it?
{rf}
no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 02:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 03:06 am (UTC)One of my favourite personal essays: God and I by Teresa Nielsen Hayden, an account of the author's excommunication from the Mormons in 1980.
I do not have a blood pressure cuff and do not offhand know for sure of anyone who does have one. If I needed one for some reason I can think of three or four acquaintances who might have one.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 04:08 am (UTC)I'm logging the results every day. Of course, I'm a retired nurse.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 04:13 am (UTC)The fact that this is happening in the same year when I've gotten more exercise in the previous six months than in probably all of the previous three years combined is something I'm finding quite annoying.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 09:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 11:12 am (UTC)Today when I opened my eyes to check the two rectangles on the ceiling that signal what kind of day it's going to be, they were a fiery orange, and I knew the smoke had settled in like a big mean marmalade cat stifling the city under its belly. (There's my Raymond Chandler moment.)
Chandler would be proud.
I don't own a pressure cuff. I think one of my co-workers might?
no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 11:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 12:38 pm (UTC)My parents have one, though both live at lowish altitude, IIRC Phoenix is around 1200', and our housemate Dave bought one as he has some health issues. Dunno how many of our friends have one.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 02:10 pm (UTC)Beyond that I'm not sure, because the question hasn't come up much, and most people who have the home BP cuffs keep them in a drawer or closet where the casual visitor won't notice them.
personal essays
Date: 2020-09-09 02:14 pm (UTC)Re: personal essays
Date: 2020-09-09 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-09 06:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-09-10 10:46 pm (UTC)OTH, seeing a sudden BP spike while at home in the readings, as happened with spouse over July 4 weekend, was more than useful, and he took steps. It could have been very serious if he hadn't had those readings.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-11 02:25 am (UTC)No BP cuff here. If I know anyone with one, I'm not aware of it.
Glad you're surviving the air quality.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-11 10:20 am (UTC)