the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

As if my week hasn't been stressful enough, this song has inexplicably been lodged in my craw since the fires started last Friday in Waldo Canyon, near Colorado Springs. In my mind, I sing it, "Colo Spgs is burning down, burning down, burning down...." Regardless of the words you choose, the tune is a horrible one to have stuck in your head, particularly when you know no other lyrics (and by "you" I mean "me"). 

I stay in close touch with Mich all the time anyway, of course. She's been telling me how ungodly hot it's been in the Springs, with the last couple of weeks being into the 100s with not a drop of rain. In Colorado, of course, with the relative humidity hovering around 30%, and with the brisk winds they've been having (up to 65 mph this week, I heard) and with the pine beetle destruction which left thousands of dead trees in their wake, wildfires were, sadly, only a matter of time. I cannot say I was surprised when I learned that there were fires all over the midwest, the worst being very close to home. 

In short, Colorado is a tinderbox. It's the Perfect Firestorm. Among other things, it's nature's way of cleaning house (and probably of getting the pine beetle infestation under control), but the scale, speed, and devastation of it is mindnumbing. 

Here's a progression map of the Waldo Canyon Fire, which is estimated at this point to have destroyed 16,750 acres, displaced 32,000 people, and is--now, at the beginning of Day 8--only estimated to be at 15% containment. That's a fascinating study of what you can get from explosive flames in high heat/high fuel/low humidity conditions. Just look at June 26th. Wow. 

I can do little or nothing from where I am, so I watch. The Turks are a bit baffled about the fire. How, they wonder, can a fire get so out of control? Isn't anyone fighting it? 

I was, in turn, baffled by such naivete, but I grew up in and around heavily wooded areas, and I've been in Colorado for years, seen documentaries on wildfires, and had safety briefings on how fast fire can spread and how unspeakably hot even a simple kitchen fire can get within 10 seconds. Until now, though, I've never had a clear idea of the awesomeness of a forest fire. 

I mean awfulness. Of course. 

But back to the Turks' failure to understand. Some areas aren't really susceptible to wildfires, apparently. If you don't live in an area where they might happen (and particularly, where they're prone to get out of control), I guess you'd ask that question. But how do you asnwer it? I'm not sure. Some naivete can only be solved through direct experience, but I'm not throwing anyone in front of a wall of flame to help them learn. 

Look at some of the brilliant photos the fire produced, though. Here's an amazing shot of the Front Range, the night of 28 June. (It's a professional photo, so click the link. The rest I will share have been making the rounds on the internet, so if they weren't public property, they kinda are now.) 

This is the first picture I saw that truly woke me up. This was taken from the Chapel Hills Mall (photographer unknown). I know how far those mountains are in the distance. That wall of flame is unreal. 

And this is the second shot that made me sit up and pay attention. That's Centennial Boulevard right there. 

This apparently came from the Facebook page of Karen Pierce, a woman I do not know. I found the shot on a different website, and I think it's just beautiful. This is the smoke and haze over the Springs. 

Here's another photo that I find breathtaking, and I don't know who the photographer is. But enjoy.  

Needless to say, most of the photos aren't artistic so much as sobering and downright scary. Like this one, of the mass evacuation Tuesday afternoon. 

Michelle and the pets are up in Black Forest, which is about 20 miles away from the fire (if it is contained). I was, of course, not anxious to lose our home, but once I knew she was prepared to jump in the car and go should she need to, I rested easier. I wish we had the trees trimmed back from our house, but let's face it: even if we had the required 30 feet clearance, it wouldn't help with this fire, which has been starting spot fires with flying embers a half mile downwind with 65% consistency. 

I know my friends and family in the Springs are safe (so far). I fear a couple may lose their homes or already have, but we will take care of them should they need or want it (of course). 

***

We finished International Day Saturday and it was a huge success, but it was a lot of work, even on the day of. I had volunteered to sell drinks simply because I didn't want to be near a hot grill on 40C day, and drinks come with ICE, ICE BABY. However, when I appeared for my early shift--at just the moment the stands opened for lunch, my timing being flawless--I realized that no one knew anything about food service and serving and our stuff was at a standstill. 

When I was a younger officer, I didn't quite understand the concept of giving orders, or why anyone would do it. The Air Force is more into making polite suggestions instead of giving orders, admittedly. Over the years, though, I've come to understand that there are situations in which people want someone to give them orders. We give orders because "being under fire" is one of those times, by the way. Situations like this was another. We had enough people there to make things work, but no one leading the charge. The Turks were clustering around the cash collecting dude who spoke no Turkish and was trying to explain to them that they had to form a line. 

The notion of "getting in/on line" or "queuing up" is a cultural phenomenon, and this concept is largely lost on Turks. They just do a mass rush for whatever they want, even when an unspoken rule--such as entering at the right while allowing others to exit at the left when the subway doors open--might even make more sense. Turks don't do this, though. They shuffle, like cards. 

So this is what we faced when I came on shift. Fun!

I had it sorted and a workable system established in less than 20 minutes, but it required that I give orders. Under some circumstances, it simply makes no sense to suggest stuff to people or to politely ask, and most of them don't want it. They want to help; just tell them what to do and get out of the way. 

So we did, it worked, and a good time was had by all. 

So when that stress ended, the wildfire watch began. All week, I've had, erm, gastrointestinal distress. 

I assumed it was the Turkey Trots, which you get from time to time here. I rarely seek medical aid for it. It's usually gone in a few hours. I just let it run its course and get on with life. I spent the first couple of days of the week finishing an online course I was required to take for my specialty in the Air Force. The trots were still with me (and a bit worse) on Wednesday, so I stayed home. I went to work yesterday, struggled a couple of times, but...no accidents. This morning, I woke with the trots and stomach cramps and nausea. It had been more than five days, so I went to the clinic, was referred to a gastro-type doc, got an IV cocktail (I was pretty dehydrated and weak by this point), and some meds along with strict rules on what I can and cannot eat. 

The doc wasn't able to determine the cause of my problem, but I wonder if it isn't just stress. I have been known to have stranger physical reactions to stress. Anyway, I have the weekend to rest. I'm ready to be back to normal. 

***

In other news, I received word on Wednesday that I've been selected for Joint Professional Military Education, Phase II, which is quite a coup. I'll go to Norfolk, Virginia, for this from 10 September to 16 November, then go on leave for a while after that to visit my wife. At the end of my tour, I will qualify as a Joint Staff Officer. YES!

Y'all be good. :)

d