Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

23 August 2011

I felt the earth... move... unda my feet...

Okay, I really didn't.  But as the east coast is wetting itself over a piddly little rumble, my California smugness and I are drinking Diet Pepsi and rolling our eyes in derisive amusement.

East Coasters:  *hiding under tables, doorways, and desks*  "Eeek!  Eeek!  An earthquake!"

Me:  *raising my glass of Diet Pepsi to Mother Nature and the Universe*  "Rock and rollllll, baby!"

Really... you call THAT an earthquake?  Please.

From the ages of 4 to 8, I lived in Hollister, CA, which happens to land directly on top of the San Andreas fault.  We had earth shifts and rumbles every single day.  If nothing came crashing down on top of us, we were fine.  We went about our lives slightly unsteadily flying by the seat of our pant and screaming, "WHEEEEEEEEEE!"  (Because that's kinda how we roll on the west coast, y'all.) 

We had the usual earthquake drills in school (close the curtains, sit under your desk, blah blah blah, get over it) and knew that if we were at home and shit started falling on top of us we should either climb under the table or our beds, or stand in a doorway (which I still think is lame... our doorways weren't exactly big enough to block the ceiling if it came crashing down, ya know?).  Meanwhile, life went on without much of a blip and waking up in the morning with our beds sideways wasn't really that unique of an occurrence.

One day, when I was in first grade, a pretty good sized jolt shook the earth while I was walking home from school.  I was mesmerized by the appearance of the road... it looked all wavy and ripply, kind of like the ocean when the tide rolls in.  I staggered around like a drunk 7 year old, trying to get my bearings, and then continued on my walk, completely unperturbed.  

A couple of minutes later, another quake hit... then another.  I stumbled and fell and eventually managed to make my way home, where I found my mother standing on a chair body blocking her china cabinet, with her friend standing on another chair holding her antique mirror against the wall.  

Life lesson:  Your 7 year old will be fine if she's walking home during an earthquake (not to mention the fact that you have another child almost exactly like her, just in case), but your vintage Limoge china and your antique cut glass mirror?  Cannot be replaced.  

Thanks, MOM.

Suck it up, east coast.  Unless there's a tsunami headed your way, I don't want to hear it.

1 comment:

  1. So true. We Californians are soooo used to falling glass and rippling roads. My first earthquake was around 1970, give or take a year. Woke up to my bed rocking like a scene from the Exorcist. My mom slept through that chaos. When the 1989 Loma Prieta hit, I watched Patrick (18mos) toddle towards me (sitting down to watch the World Series) when a wave hit him sending him ass over tea kettle. I'm nonplussed by earthquakes.


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