|via Los Angeles Times|
When I stepped outside today, it felt like I had stepped into a furnace. I honestly had no idea it was that hot outside because it rarely is that hot in my mid-town neighborhood, seven or so miles from the Pacific and way more miles from the deep, dark Valley. I thought to myself that the air was so dry and so hot that I could strike a match in the air in front of my nose and the whole city would combust. Sophie came home from school hot to the touch -- the buses out here in Lala land aren't all air-conditioned -- and while I'm not blaming that for the huge seizure she had at the dinner table (she has them all the time anyway), I'm sure that it didn't help. There are fires burning to the west and up in the hills around The Getty Center, fires large enough to see from my house, the plumes reddish-yellow, the air faintly smoky. I guess the season has begun.