By Sonnie Sussillo

This is not a game of tag we're playing. Ready-Set-Go is a prepare-plan for those of us who live in the WUI (wildland urban interface) where the danger of wildfire is never more present than this time of year.

This year, as the drought deepens in this part of the world, wildfire is a high likelihood. The Gila National Forest fire management team put out a news release on February 19 which included the statement that "The warm weather combined with high grasses and careless behavior has...Fire Staff for the Gila National Forest concerned about the potential for a devastating fire event, particularly in areas where homes are surrounded by drought-stressed vegetation." And it could be right here in Silver City (apologies to: The Music Man). We are also harboring lingering images of the Quail Ridge fire that happened several years ago this month; the fire that burned on the south side of town, destroying 13 structures, but fortunately taking no lives.

So, we're putting our own Ready-Set-Go into place. We have figured out what to take if we have 10 minutes to evacuate. What to take if we have ½ hour. When the sheriff knocks on the door and says, "Get out now!" We have a checklist – who does what, who grabs what. The checklist is, in fact, two lists: the 10-minute list and the "if we have time" list.

We have packed the 10-minutes-to-evacuate stuff in 3 large bins plus a smaller box of dog supplies; put those where they'll be easy to get to, even at 3 am, because like babies, fires never come at reasonable times.

We did a practice run on Sunday. Starting at 4:30, each of us followed our list. Turning lights on; checking door locks and windows closed; loading boxes. Locked and loaded and off – in 10 minutes flat. Drove our planned escape route to the Walmart parking lot, where we will meet if one of us isn't home when the order to go comes.

Came home and figured out what we didn't figure on. I forgot to turn on the outside lights, important if we evacuate in the dark so that fire folks will see the house down here below the hill. Nick ran around the house looking for any forgotten combustibles, a task that shouldn't be necessary if we've made sure there are no combustibles lying around the house. Forgot that the passenger door of the truck automatically locks with slightest forward/backward movement—that cost a few seconds for Nick to dig out his keys, since I was not yet in the truck. All in all, though, we got out what we planned in the time we allotted ourselves.

This is one of those drills we hope never to have to execute. The decisions on what to take and what to leave behind are not easy ones. We made those decisions on the assumption that the house would completely burn to the ground, which in fact is a low possibility, given the construction and the defensible space we've created. Do we take that painting? That jewelry? Those documents? The computers? How do we decide which heirloom is more important that another? In the final analysis, anything is replaceable except the two of us and Nutmeg, our dog. That's not true. There is much that is not replaceable. But stuff, we can live without.