Possessed by the Santa Ana Winds

I'm watching news coverage of the fifteen fires that are at this moment raging through Southern California. Right now they're showing live footage of a trailer park in Santa Clarita that just started burning fifteen minutes ago. I can make out a lone fireman holding a hose on flames that are being blown by the gusting Santa Ana winds. It just looked like he had to run for his life as the flames came rushing towards him.

I am terribly afraid of fire. When my apartment building caught on fire this past spring I totally freaked and had nightmares about being trapped in a burning building for a few weeks afterwards.

Fire isn't picky. It doesn't matter if you live in a trailer or a Malibu castle, all those memories and cherished possessions will burn. My heart goes out to the hundreds of thousands of people that have been evacuated so far.

But there's something that has weighed on my mind today more than anything else. More than flames, more than the hot dry winds of the devil. It's something that makes me feel ill, sick to my stomach, and profoundly sad.

I was visiting someone today that I've known very well for several years. And, while she was out of the room, her husband started asking me questions about my workout regimen. I told him about my love affair with Violet Zaki tapes and jogs at the park. Then he said, "You look really good. Really strong."

"Okay. Um. Thanks." I was immediately on my guard. I felt a weird vibe in the way he said it, in the way he was looking at me.

Then he reached out, rubbed my arm, told me I looked sexy and asked, "So when can I take you out?"

I tried to make a joke. I said something like, "Hah hah. You're too funny. But I'm so busy, I have no time to go out anywhere."

Laughing uncomfortably when nothing is funny, when all I wanted to say was, "What the fuck is your problem?"

Surely I was wrong about what I was experiencing with this man while his wife, who I love and respect immeasurably, was out of the room? But no, he tried to grab on my arm again and said, "At least let me take you out to coffee."

I pulled my arm away and replied, "I quit drinking coffee last year after my brother's suicide."

He didn't give up. "So let me take you to dinner then. You like Italian food, right?"

I answered that the next time I go out for Italian food it'll be with my husband. I kept talking. Rambling, really as I elaborated on my husband by sharing, "You should see how in shape he is now! He's gone from a 34 waist to a 30 since February!" I kept on talking about my husband and how he needs to take me out on a date sometime soon. I tried to keep it light, tried to make sense of what I was experiencing, and then, praise God, a few seconds later, the wife came back.

I talked to her for a couple more minutes and then made up a lie so I could escape. She was wreathed in smiles, no worry in her eyes as she gave me a warm hug goodbye. No sign of having overhead the horrible words I'd just heard.

Hours later, I feel so personally violated. And what am I supposed to say the next time she asks me to come over and visit? I truly admire this woman and it just breaks my heart because I'm sure this can't be the first time her husband has pulled some crap like this.

I can't make any sense of it. I can only think that this misguided husband has been possessed by the Santa Ana winds, the Santana winds.

Yes, he must be possessed by the winds of Satan. Otherwise, what would cause him to behave in such a way?