California–and my turf–burning.

Well, the good news is that the young San Diego councilman I’ve known since his pup stage just released a list of homes that had burned down in my evacuated neighborhood–and my house is not on it, they tell me. This time the fires are worse than the ones in late 2003, when on a trip to London I literally had to drive between rural mountain ridges on fire along Del Dios highway the night before my plane left just so I could stay in a hotel just get to the airport on time (usually a 20 minute drive). It was a bit like being in the scene of Gone With The Wind when Atlanta burned except longer and with lower flames. The last thing I–or anyone else who lives in Southern California–needed was this. When I am not traveling I “live” in Rancho Bernardo, a suburb of San Diego. For years I was on the Planning Board there, and now I am glad I’m not. I’ve been away from California–very far away–for 10 days. On Monday morning, I learned, oddly, from a BBC report that my Bernardo Heights neighborhood was evacuated, which is a stange feeling. Later Monday day I learend no one could go downtown into work. Anyway, all living things got got out of my house via help from neighbors. No one except me and a bunch of animals, including my cat J.D., live at the house (my wife evacuated years ago from my house in D.C.) With no one around who really know whats has been going on, and before the officals releae the list, how do I know what’s going on? Answer: every two hour I call my home fax machine; if it makes the high-pitched fax noise, my house is still there…more later but I am going to an airport.