To give you an idea of what now passes for normalcy in Los Angeles, this is my corner at 7:30 this morning. Cars, lawns, sidewalks, now me and the dog, covered in ash. Woke up from another toss-and-turn night to the whir of helicopters racing back and forth on water dumps. Yet we are somehow still six blocks from the yellow evacuation warning zone and double that from actual evacuation. It doesn’t sound far and it isn’t - an easy walk, if anyone walked in L.A.

Two friends we could have counted on to take us in, if we get the notice to go and go now, lost their homes. Other friends are already on the run from the flames or will be soon. I know how lucky we are, but I wouldn’t quite call it good luck.

I have thoughts on what it feels like to watch fire encroaching on your home and wish it away, in essence toward someone else’s. I’ll get to that as soon as the car’s been loaded, the animals secured, and my heart rate returns to something resembling normal. It will be a minute.

Yes, those are tents and people living in them in my solidly middle class, which in L.A. means outrageously expensive, neighborhood. I have words on that too, but will wait on them for another time. Meanwhile I handed all of the homeless folks in this photo KN95 masks this morning because the air is deadly and we really are all in this together.