One hell of a week
It’s been a rough week.
This week was supposed to be packed with research, planning, writing packing lists and generally full steam ahead with our trip preparations. Instead we spent our time arguing about whether duct tape would be useful during a zombie apocalypse and trying to cook scones on a BBQ.
At 11pm on Sunday night, the power in the house started to cycle on and off. The first time I didn’t pay too much attention, we often have brown outs and surges in Napa because of all the commercial use. Something about the second black out got my attention and I knew something was up. Then the sirens started.
By 2am, much to Mr T’s vocal displeasure, I’d gone down a rabbit hole of Twitter, news sites and police scanner reports to find out more. Turned out, as we all now know, Napa Valley and Sonoma were ablaze. Even at that early hour, it was clear things were very bad. Then we smelled the smoke.
Me: “Shit. We don’t have go bags.”
Deafening silence from the other side of the bed.
Me: “We need go bags. We’re supposed to have them for earthquakes. We need them NOW.”
Him: “Tomorrow,” came the response from under the pillow. The dog huffed, rolled over and went back to sleep.
I spend hours of 3, 4 and 5am meticulously planning what we would need to evacuate in an emergency so when everyone was awake at 6am, I had a plan.
Me: “I have a plan.”
Him: “Of course you do,” came the less than enthusiastic response.
Those of you who have had the pleasure of my company during crises over the years know how much I love a good plan. So after Mr T had tried desperately to make his way into work, he resigned himself to the couch with his wine books. The WonderDog decided she’d leave the crisis management to others (she ain’t no Lassie, this one!) and stretched out beside Mr T and promptly began snoring. I, on the other hand, scurried around the house looking something like the Tasmanian Devil if he’d joined Seal Team 6.
Planning to evacuate had somehow morphed into preparing for an impending zombie apocalypse. Because you never know, right? And besides the zombie apocalypse took my mind off the very real possibility of our house burning to the ground.
So once everyone had accepted that zombies are in fact a very real threat and that we could have to flee any moment (quite frankly, it took longer than necessary for everyone to get on board), it was down to business.
Me: “During the zombie apocalypse, would you want to share a towel, or we need one each?”
Him: <barely looking up from his book> “Sure, we can share.”
Me: “Actually no, let’s take two, we can tear the second one into strips and use as tourniquets.”
I ignored the side eye from the couch. A little later on, I was making progress.
Me: “I’m going to take the Epi Pen. We won’t need it but it’ll be good bargaining power.”
Him: “Bargaining for what, exactly?”
Me: “Hard to say. Medicine. Potatoes. Our lives. Maybe I’ll take two.”
When I emerged from the garage a third time, the wine book was closed and I had everyone’s full attention. Mr T and the WonderDog were both staring at me with what could best be described as amazement. High five me.
Me: “I need you to find me duct tape, needle nose pliers and a wrench.”
Him: “Are we evacuating the house or murdering someone?”
Me: “When we’re able to McGuyver the shit out of the apocalypse, you’ll be thanking me. Oh and super glue. Do we have any? You know, for stitching wounds.”
Him: “Wait, what?”
With all that packed, we did a mad dash to Safeway which, despite being in pitch darkness, was still open for business. The entire store was a confusion of iPhone flashlights and shuffling feet. I’d only grabbed my prescription sunglasses when we stormed out of the house, so I was walking around in the pitch black with my sunnies on. Sub optimal conditions but you do what you can.
We split up to get provisions, I raced around collecting six cans of soup, two boxes of soup in case someone steals our tin opener, granola bars, four large bottles of water and batteries.
Mr T sauntered up clutching a packet of goldfish crackers.
Me: “WTF is that? How was that part of the mission?”
Him: “I guess I misunderstood the, err, mission. I thought we were just getting snacks.”
Honestly.
When the power eventually came back on, we went down a rabbit hole of TV news which is never a good idea. Nothing good comes from getting your news from the TV, which is duty bound to make every minute of news more tragic and upsetting than the previous one. By Wednesday we decided to head south for some fresh air just before they evacuated the entire town of Calistoga, which is the next town north of us. As of yet there has been no evacuation of our little town, St Helena, and we keep our fingers crossed.
I think it's fair to say that we’ve learned a number of valuable lessons that stand us in good stead on our upcoming trip and indeed for life:
1. Turns out you can cook just about anything on a BBQ. Shepherds Pie, Scones, you name it. Who knew?
2. Even in desperate times, nothing lifts the spirits more than a few friendly faces
3. You should always have your exits planned and a bag prepared, no matter what
4. Everyone should have a radio, it’s the only reliable source of information. And it’s factual, so less likely to throw you into a panic
5. And yes, duct tape is a must during any kind of apocalypse
On a more serious note. the devastation is truly unbelievable and our hearts ache for so many people, animals and businesses who have lost everything. It’s impossible to comprehend.
For now, we’re sending our love to all of those folks who lost so much. I know this seems like a very flippant post in the face of such devastation but when you’re in the middle of it, you need something to keep your hopes up and your spirits high. Please send all the love you can spare to Napa and Sonoma. They deserve it and will certainly need it in the coming months.
