This is my sister, Rachel. She works for the Department of Natural Resources on a fire crew. That does not mean that she starts fires, but that she FIGHTS WILDFIRES. The red stuff all over her is the fire retardant that is dropped out of planes and helicopters. I’m pretty sure this job makes her a radical feminist, even though she changed her last name when she got married (Yeah, I’m never gonna let that go. Sorry, Rache!).
Rachel digs a lot of fire lines, sometimes with a shovel, sometimes with heavy machinery. She’s kind of badass that way. This isn’t her “regular” job, it’s seasonal, thank jebus – but this is the first summer in a few years that she’s done it and if I remember correctly, last time she worked or the DNR, her crew was on call all summer and never got called out for a fire. That’s a good thing because it means there weren’t a lot of fires, but it’s a bad thing for the crew because they make a lot more money working a fire. Also, this summer is the first summer that she coached the swim team, and she missed her first meet because of a fire. Swimming is probably Rachel’s favorite thing next to sea turtles and Hawai’i, so that SUCKED.
Right now, she is “mopping up” a fire near the town where I grew up in Eastern Warshington. That means putting out any hot spots and working for 100% containment – I think. You see, it’s been a while since I’ve been around those kind of wildfires. So far, in SoCal, there have been some fires, but they never tell you anything about them unless a celebrities house burns down, which is retardant.
Your sister sounds awesome. And totally not imaginary like I had wondered for a little while!
Really? In nor-cal, they never stop telling you about them. In exhaustive detail. Which I guess is a good thing.
That’s a badass sometime part-time job, if I do say so.
I miss the exhaustive detail about fires – it being the lead story in the paper for the entire summer, little maps of logging roads and the nearest mile markers where the fire has been contained, seeing the pictures of the fire crews and trying to spot your friends on the line… you see, we always knew SOMEONE on the line.
I do not miss the smoke in the air, the burning in my eyes and throat, and understanding what life would be like under a red sun.
That is indeed a kickass job. I couldn’t do it.
How did your parents manage to have THREE kick-ass kids? Shouldn’t one of you be a total loser? The mind boggles. And I totally want to meet your parents.
Hello, Rachel! You do awesome work.