winds

“Santa Ana winds blowin’ hot from the north…and we was born to ride.”

Despite it being MOTHERLOVING NOVEMBER and just a few weeks away from THANKSGIVING — a time when it should be COLD, BLUSTERY, and LOVELY — due to this unseasonable, unreasonable heat, the current suffering of myself, my children, my husband, my friends, my colleagues, and very nearly ALL of my fellow Angelenos is nothing short of EPIC.

Way back when I lived in Fresno, I used to think the whole notoriousmythology surrounding The MIGHTY Santa Ana Winds of Los Angeles was STRICTLY HORSESHIT. I thought it was overblown nonsense, that is…UNTIL MY FATASS ACTUALLY MOVED HERE. To experience this weather phenomenon is UNBELIEVABLE.

I am talking HOT, DRY, RUTHLESS WINDS OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS.

The constant threat of fires wild in the earthy hills and mounts that watch over us all like fierce, silent, timeless mothers.

Skin SO parched I look and feel like a TUBBY, DUSTY MUMMY.

The full moon crooning lunatic tunes above our parched bones, a dry siren song beckoning us to the very edge of reason and ruin. She is difficult to resist.

The sparking ions savage, thrashing, and alive in which we currently swim — an atmospheric moshpit making A City of Angels CRAZY…..ER.

The air billowing against your skin so warm, soft, alluring, and menacing — like a beautiful lover above you, with one hand stroking your cheek and the other reaching under your pillow…for a knife with which to cut your throat.

The MIGHTY Winds de la Santa Ana are not coming.

THEY’RE HERE.

“There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands’ necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.” — Raymond Chandler

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About muffybolding

Muffy Bolding is a mother/writer/actor/knitter/feminist/withered debutante who likes the smell of asparagus pee, and remains obsessed with the bathroom hygiene of her three children -- despite the fact that they are 23, 19, and 16. She is blissfully married to a cute Jewish boy who looks like Willie Wonka, but remains tragically in love with the dead poet, Ted Hughes. She has the mouth of a Teamster, and her patron saint is Rocco (pestilence relief.) Ms. Bolding lives in Southern California, where she enjoys typing words, making movies, and plucking the rings from the fingers of the dead. She was the co-creator and Editor-in-Chief of the award winning satire zine, Fresno Lampoon, and in between writing screenplays, carnival barking, and savagely threatening her trio of darling larvae with a wooden spoon, she currently publishes the zine, "Withered Debutante." More of her work can also be found in the anthology, "Mamaphonic: Balancing Motherhood and Other Creative Acts", the compilation zine, "Mamaphiles III: Coming Home", as well as in The Cortland Review and hipmama.com. She is currently writing and producing for film and television, and working on a book of essays entitled, "Inside A Chinese Dragon." She has slept around, but not nearly as much as she would have liked.
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