Beware! This Is What An Unattended Battery Charger Can Do...

A lot of people have asked what caused the fire in our garage; it was an unattended battery charger for a remote control helicopter. The scary thing is that I think most of us have plugged in battery chargers for tools, toys, and a variety of other things and left them be, often for days.

It took less than 2 hours from the time this battery was put on the charger and plugged in until the time our garage was a charcoal cave. The fire had probably been burning awhile before any of us heard the alarms (we were at the neighbors for a birthday dinner), so it didn't take long for the battery charger to heat up to dangerous levels.

We had replaced the appliances in our kitchen, so the old dishwasher was sitting in the garage and the battery charger was on top of it. When the fire was out, the only thing left of it was the rack inside, and it was mangled. The rest of the dishwasher was completely gone. (See post below, just prior to this one, for a photo of what was left of the dishwasher.)

The entire inside of the garage was black and everything was covered in soot. It melted the garage door opener, ruined the washer and dryer, and scorched the pingpong table. The funny thing is, pingpong ball survived mostly in tact. It didn't melt and it didn't turn black!

It really makes a person stop and think when something like this happens! I think I'll take some of those warnings about not leaving electronic devices unattended a bit more seriously now. 


One bike was white and other blue before the fire.

Pearl Drive Heroes

Having neighbors within arm's reach of our house is new for us, as many of you already know. We're pretty independent, and we just take care of things ourselves, so living partially secluded in the country for so many years fit us fine. But this week, we learned what it means to live in a village.


We live on a great block in Murrieta. Nice people, lots of kids, pretty quiet. And fortunately for us, we've hit it off well with the neighbors directly on either side of us. They're kind, open, giving, and now they are also heroes to us. 

We had a fire in our house. The flames stayed confined to the garage, but the smoke got into the entire house. We were at the neighbors for a birthday party when it happened, and by the time someone heard the smoke alarms, there was black smoke pouring out of our garage. 


All the neighbors came. One of them grabbed the hose, (putting himself at great risk!) and started dousing the flames even though he could hardly see through the black smoke. Others ran into our house and grabbed pets, computers, iPhones, my purse, and the container of cookies on the counter (more on that one later...). Then the neighbors stayed with us until the fireman left, making sure we knew they would do anything we needed to help us. 

While the fireman were there, so many of the neighbors put an arm around us to let us know they were behind us, or patted Fritz on the back. And when we couldn't stay in our house, they put us up in their home (thanks Amber, Joe, and your entire family for squeezing us in!). Another neighbor thought to take photos for us while it was happening to document it all for insurance (thanks, Shannon!). And the next day, we had calls, notes, and people stopping by telling us not to hesitate to call if we need anything.

This is what is left of the old
dishwasher where a battery
charger for a remote control
toy was sitting when it
malfunctioned and caught on fire. 

This is definitely one of those times when it's better to be surrounded by people who will pull together for you when you need it. I know the people in the country do the same, but where we used to live (on 70 acres surrounded by national forest), no one would have even known if our house was on fire until we were through the worst of it (once known, though, everyone would have come to offer what they could).


So, cheers to Pearl Drive! Thanks for showing us what it means to be part of a neighborhood.We feel very fortunate to have picked the street we did. And we can't wait to get back into our house and back to our neighborhood!


P.S. - The cookie story really has to be told: Our neighbor's brothers ran into the house to help me grab things, and one of them saw my purse and my phone on the kitchen counter, and next to them were cookies in a Tupperware container, so in the frenzy he grabbed those too. When we were all outside with our arms full of computers, briefcases, purses etc, every one looked at the cookies with a puzzled expression. Nikko (or was it Nathan? It's all such a blur!) just smiled and said "I didn't want them to go to waste. They looked too good!" It was the laugh we all needed, and every last one of the cookies was gone before the night was out.

Really?!?!?!

I can't say if this is a "California is different than Minnesota" thing, or if it is a city vs. the country thing, but here I am IN LINE waiting to get gas. And not just in line, next at the pump, but in line and hope to get to the pump in the next 10 - 15 minutes (which ended up being 15 because of the red Kia that came barreling around the side of the line and then pulled into the open spot the silver car in the middle left, all the while completely ignoring the line of cars waiting). 

I thought the stress would stop when I finally got up to the pump, but it didn't... There I stood, credit card in hand, looking for the slot on the pump to insert it. But there was no slot. There was nothing. No buttons saying "Payment Options." No buttons saying "Begin Pumping." Feeling quite certain the gas wasn't free, I was at a loss. 

Then I saw it - between the pumps there was what looked an awful lot like a cash machine. Except the money goes the wrong way! 

This gas station didn't take credit cards, only debit cards and cash. Thankfully, I had cash with because my debit card wouldn't work (probably because it's one of those that is considered a credit card when making purchases). So I took out my cash, and fed it INTO the cash machine, then told it which pump. Meanwhile, I was trying to avoid eye contact with the cars in line behind me, who no doubt were wondering who the idiot holding up the line with the MN license plates was. 

I think I'll stick to filling up at the gas station down the road from our house before going anywhere. At least I know how to use that one!

"Going to California With An Aching in My Heart"

I took a new route on my run today and found a gravel road winding up a hill in the middle of Murrieta. It was a little piece of country tucked into the city, complete with orchards, llama farms, and horse farms. And it was just what I needed. 

Today's run was therapy. It was a chance to be alone for an hour and say my long distance goodbye to a loyal horse that started out as a big, clumsy baby needing to grow into his long legs and ended up a beauty. Splash was stunning, even when he was clumsy. His height and his spots drew attention where ever he went.

Splash started out as a show horse--we won quite a few ribbons together!--but he spent the majority of his career as the lead horse of a riding program for handicapped equestrians. He knew when to be the gentle leader for a rider, and he knew when to challenge a rider. Under saddle, he was the perfect western horse and a tolerant sidesaddle horse. He pulled carts, rode in parades, and stood patiently for hundreds of demonstrations. He was beautiful and strong, but unable to beat the disease that took him far too quickly. 

So when I got the phone call from my mom in Minnesota saying Splash had to be put down while I was so far away, I went running. I wasn't expecting to see horses, but as I rounded a corner on the gravel road with Splash on my mind I inhaled the wonderful scent of two grazing horses just as my iPod played the Led Zeppelin lyrics "Going to California with an aching in my heart." Until today, I didn't realize horse farms were just a stone's throw away, but I stumbled upon them at just the right time. I needed to smell that comfortable, warm scent of horses as they grazed. 

As I've said before, the distance is toughest at times like these. I can't be in Minnesota to say my final farewells, or be with him to the final moment, or help Mom through this, and I definitely have an aching in my heart...

"There's nothing so good for the inside of a man as the outside of a horse." - Ronald Reagan