The Sky Returns to Blue (Mostly)

 The western states were on fire the past few weeks, as if the year hadn't caused enough damage. (The year landed us a daughter, so that's pretty rad!)

Smoke filled the air from the west coast of America all the way to northern Europe. It was said that here, in Southern California, the weird orange glow with the morning sun and the daytime white sky was due to the Northern California fires pouring smoke into the upper atmosphere, while our own poor air quality and visible foggy-smoke was due to the local fires, only a few hundred miles away.

There's Long Beach from up on Signal Hill, showcasing both calamities. The high NorCal smoke finally just dissipated, or moved on, mainly due to new pressure fronts moving through.

And while the air has been bad, it hasn't been anywhere near the danger levels of locales north, like Oregon and northern California.

Driving home after picking up Cass during this time had some very eerie mirror views. Ahead was mostly clear, and by "mostly clear," I mean overcast with smoke.

And yet, it wasn't bad here at all, relatively speaking. Sure it smelled like campfire for a few days, with white skies for a few more, maybe a few weeks.

We even got some bitchn' sunsets:

So, this is exactly the kind of thing that we're going to need to prepare ourselves for with the changing climate. Fight it or not, call it a hoax or not, THIS SHIT IS NOT GOING TO ABATE BECAUSE YOU WANT IT TO.

It doesn't work like that.

We gained Camille. We lost John Lewis, Chadwick Boseman, RBG (aw c'mon!), 200k+ American's to the 'rona...

Whatever happens in November is going to trigger some [distasteful expletive], mark my words. The outcome doesn't matter, okay? We need to agree that this is the case and be clear eyed. No matter who wins, the fan will be COVERED.

At least our skies returned to blue for a bit in September...

Not Lying to Your Kids

 I find myself occasionally in strange situations with my kids, and my son specifically. I don't lie to him, or them, but my daughter is only seven months old, and the sound of my voice is more important than what I say.

With the recent social unrest about police brutality, not to mention all the goddamn pandemic ennui, we've been having serious talks in our house. Specifically about his role as a blond boy in our society and the dismantling of the patriarchy, it's been going well. Recognize what you get from the patriarchy, and the like, you know---real talk.

Anyway, we were on a drive the other week and he had a box of old CDs of mine in his lap, and he was looking through them. At one point he was holding two jewel-cases:

And:

I said something like, "Oh man! Those are great! The music is so iconic and culturally important, and both guys were named Jim, and both died tragically at the age of 27...too early..."

"They died?" he asked. Yup, I told him, starting to regret my relentless honesty. And of course it went a little sideways: "They died? How?"

"Well, they asphyxiated. That's like choking..."

"Did the police kill them by stepping on their neck like George Floyd?"

On the one hand, I was so proud of my little blond white-boy, because it's going to take millions of white-folks to be clear eyed about systemic racism and police brutality to make any change in this busted-ass system actually take effect.

On the other hand, I was mortified about now having to explain choking on vomit while asleep and dying, because, you know, knee-jerk relentless honesty.

The walk from the car into the appointment, waiting in the lobby, and in the examination room the conversation continued (he still had the jewel cases in hand, having brought them like treasure from the car), and eventually the doctor came in and asked what was up.

"Well, I'm explaining to Cass about asphyxiation on vomit and the deaths of seminal American artists. How are you doing?"

She said, "Aaahhhh, ohhhkaaay. Um...Let's take a look at those ears..."

Yes, let's. 

Also, Cass's favorite song currently is "Riders on the Storm," but "Hello, I  Love You" is coming on strong. "Play the 'Jump in your game, I love you' song, dad."

See? Not everything is about revolution. That may be the only way to keep him from becoming a real zealot.