When the fires in San Diego flared up, we made an early morning decision to pack up and move to Mom's house in a more southeast section of San Diego county. It was mostly so we could keep me out of the smoke and soot that seemed to be all around us but also just for peace of mind. Our section of Poway was never "officially" evacuated, we were this 1 small square of land on a map that wasn't pink (pink=evacuated), although some neighbors received Reverse 911 calls.
Packing your belonging is, of course, an interesting experience. I remembered the framed picture of my dad as a little boy but forgot my toothbrush. I grabbed all of the quilts that David's Grandmother has made but they never actually MADE it to the car. And then, there's the fact that I completely overlooked packing ANY of my sister's beautiful artwork-but I got every single one of the kids' "Cars Movie" die cast metal cars.
Once we got to my mom's house, it was nice to feel safe, breathe relatively clean air and just relax. I was thankful David didn't have to go to work. And then, there was the REAL reason to be happy:
Every night we were at Mom's I took a soak in this bathtub of beauty. It was wonderful. I read books and wondered how long I could stay in the tub before I shriveled up like a raisin. This tub was so deep that if you filled it to capacity, you had to try to hold on or you'd float. It was not hard to reach the perfect balance of hot and cold water (but one night I over "essence oil-ed" with the Spearamint oil and no matter how hot the water was, my whole body was minty-cold-fresh.)
Now that we are home, I am happy to be living in a place that is more Toddler-ized with my own bed and things around me (like a toothbrush but more on that another time) but my bathtub is just not up to par.
And my mom lives too far away to make a nightly drive just for a tub soak.