Mossy Cottage Knits

Splat!

(Sorry for the continued absence, Dear Readers, but life continues to be on the not-fun side. I hope to be back posting soon. If not, a lovely "guest blogger" has offered to step in for a while, which I think is a wonderful idea, and I'll take her up on it if things don't improve soon.)

You know that song phrase, “Sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug?” Last week, definitely the bug. But I’ve managed to paper-clip and tape my exoskeleton back together enough to post at least a little something to the blog…especially when I remember that my ups and downs have been nothing compared to what my sister and her family have been through. The end of the story is they and their house are fine (yay! And a woo-hoo! And a huzzah!) but, still, some musings…

My sister, who writes very well, doesn’t have a blog. Which is fine most of the time, but this week, oh, how I wish she had had one so she could write about their recent dramatic and slightly surreal adventures because I can’t do it justice.

As I mentioned a week ago, they were one of the hundreds of thousands of families evacuated from San Diego. Normally, this would be a no-brainer; they would hie themselves to the safety of the in-laws’, 1.5 hours to the north. However, the highway between Here Where We Are and There Where We Need To Be was firmly closed and patrolled by burly men in Smokey the Bear hats, so they ended up spending the first night in the last place I, or they, expected—a dentist’s office! The dentist, a neighbor and friend from two doors down, invited my sister and her brood, which included two kids and an 80-pound dog (hubbie was on a business trip), to join him and his family in their makeshift shelter. And by “makeshift” I mean a large, upscale, chi-chi, California dental office with a bathroom nicer than the one in my sister’s house. Which means it’s a very nice bathroom, indeed.

As part of our crazy overseas upbringing, the children in my family were taught to just cope with whatever life threw at us. No panicking, no drama; just deal, and it would all eventually get better. Or not, but panicking wasn’t going to make a damn bit of difference. Like the time a typhoon ripped the roof off our house in the Philippines and gallons of water literally cascaded down our stairs, splashing like a happy little waterfall. I remember that night finding the one remaining, small, dry spot on my bed, curling up very tightly in it so as not to touch the wet parts of the mattress, and going to sleep. After all, what’re you gonna do? Or like the time another typhoon battered the hotel we were staying in in Taiwan, a typhoon so strong it shoved cars up the grand marble stairs that led to the front of the hotel and dangerously close to the heavy, two-story glass doors, and we just retreated to the bar on the first floor—a calculated move, so we wouldn’t be stuck on our floor if the elevators stopped working—and sat in the dark and drank and calmly watched the chaos outside. I was only 12 but my parents decided, what the hell, it was time for us all to be grown-up, symbolically as well as literally, and the situation was dire enough and extreme enough that no one would care if I nursed along a gin and tonic (which in my naïveté, I was drinking more for its sweetness than for its “medicinal” properties). (Which all goes a long way toward explaining why, when I found toilet paper bubbling up from my shower drain and water gushing out from under my toilet that I looked at all of it and went, “Huh.” Oh, and this week, a flicker drilled a hole in my house. I repeat, Huh.)

We were further taught to try to find the good and the humor in whatever was going on—or inject some good and some humor, if there was none to be found—because that was the only thing that would make it all bearable to experience and bearable to remember afterwards. Which explains why, under the most dire of circumstances, during the worst firestorm in California history, when they didn’t even know if they had a home anymore, you would have found my niece and nephew lying happily in dental chairs watching DVDs in the DVD players installed in the ceiling, and having a fine old time. Then everyone hunkered down on sleeping bags for some shut-eye, the dog apparently taking up 3/4 of the space on my sister’s sleeping bag.

Bonus! Sister sent pictures!

A Group Photo of Most of the Refugees: (From left to right) Dentist's son, my nephew, dentist's daughter, dentist's wife, my niece.

My sister, her sparkly smile, and that time-tested way to get through difficult times—a little vino in a disposable cup!

My niece reading with ever-present, ever-vigilant Tanner the dawg.

Proof of the surreal strangeness of that night: My nephew lying on a dentist's chair, watching TV.

Time to wash our feet before we go to bed!

My sister getting ready to catch some z's and Tanner getting ready to bogart her sleeping bag.

Kudos to you, Big Sister. I am so tremendously impressed. San Diego fambly, you inspire me!

Some intermittent knitting has been going on, or as much as a bug can do. I am especially excited about the swatch for the Kente Cloth hat. This one may actually be good enough to submit somewhere. Will try to post a picture soon.

Posted by Ryan at October 29, 2007 09:33 AM