Rain, then mud -- it's inevitable.

La Conchita is about halfway between my home and my parents, maybe 20-25 minutes south of here. (I heard on NPR yesterday morning that it's fifty miles south of Santa Barbara... nahhhh.) It's such a tiny little place, just a cluster of houses nestled at the foot of the hills and one gas station/store. In thirty-three years of living here, I've gone by that town countless times, looking at the little houses and trailers and wondering what it would be like to live in the middle of nowhere like they do. I've never actually stopped off the freeway and visited the town, nor have I ever met anybody who lives there. Huh. And now here it is, making national news and drawing The Ahnold for a visit. It's such a tragedy, that we could all be enjoying the rain so much, and appreciating a little *real* weather in Southern California, and then a mudslide wipes out so many lives.

It happened 10 years ago too, but that time nobody was killed and there were lots of stories of breathtaking escapes, diving out of front doors as the mud poured in from behind. I wonder if that last mudslide left everyone too complacent, thinking that if it ever happened again, it would be the same thing -- enough warning to get out in time? Because I'll tell you, you wouldn't catch me in a house under a hill of dirt in rains like we had last week. When it rains in California, there are mudslides after. You can take that to the bank. I'm just really surprised, and sad, that people didn't evacuate the area closest to the hills. But that's part of the human condition, isn't it -- we never think it will happen to us, or not this time, or... or... or.

( More here on being stranded in paradise... )