This morning, I realized that today is my 69th day on fire assignment this year. This morning, I also realized I had put my underwear on inside-out during the wrestling match that is getting dressed in the back of my “full-size” SUV rental every morning. I understand that sleeping in my vehicle is a self-imposed level of suffering that involves not enough space, hard, uneven surfaces to sleep on and a friendly bunch of mosquitos each night, but the alternative here is a tent area near main street that involves dozens of random snoring overhead types and the occasional unhoused person wandering between tents looking for a snack or someone to cuddle with. I’ll take my chances with the mosquitos and trying to get dressed in the pitch darkness of 5 AM and 18 inches of headspace. So inside out underwear it is. It’s something of a tradition, really. A fire camp ritual, which, if nothing else, bears witness to the fact that I have changed my underwear at least once while on assignment.

On my 69th day I find myself faced with the same dilemmas that I was on day one of this season: IF and HOW to talk about fire losses; reminding Facebook followers that we really ARE doing things to put the fire out in spite of appearances to the contrary; and trying to find something with less than 30 grams of sugar in the sack lunch.

Today, three of my kids are out on firelines around the region (ok, slightly beyond), in the middle of an intense heat wave and lightning busts across Oregon and Washington. The feeling of solidarity with my kids working in the same field, at the same time, is all the warm fuzzies. Maybe more warm than fuzzy as they tell me about heat-related illnesses on their fire and I’m all too keenly aware of the number of tragedies that the wildland community has already experienced this year. But I love that they’re out there, loving what I love and we get to jargon at each other. The only one home is holding down the fort, almost literally, as the wrecking ball known as Norman Schwarzkopf and his uncle(?) Cash the Bluetick Hound try their best to distract #2 from her mothering/housesitting responsibilities. It’s moments like these that make me grateful for family group chats and blink cameras to watch dog TV.

Somebody asked me a few weeks ago how I was doing and I almost surprised myself when I answered honestly that I was really good. So far this year has been a good reminder that there ARE people I like out there, I DO have work I love to do, and almost anything is possible up ahead, even with inside out underwear. It’s been a long, long time since I felt that way. I’m grateful for the combination of sunshine, the right crew at home and in the field, getting paid for something I actually feel good doing and of course, dogs, who are impatiently waiting for me to come back to them with the bag full of squeaky toys in the passenger seat of the world’s smallest “full-size” SUV. Soon dogs, soon.