Rock ‘n’ roll, baby. The earth’s a-shaking and a-rumbling. And I missed the whole thing! I was at work, on the third floor, and this building sways a little all the time as it is. I don’t think the Bay Area really felt it, as we received no phone calls from panicked citizens (who regularly pick up their phones the second an earthquake hits and dial 911, wanting to know the magnitude and location — give us JUST a moment, and we’ll get it for them, but in those few seconds after, we’re just as shook-ed up as they are).
I DID, however, get a panicky phone call from Christy, saying Home (Central Coast, San Luis Obispo area) had been hit with a 6.5 and she couldn’t get hold of Mom. I did the reassuring thing, as big sisters do, making up an insta-lie: “Mom’s not home, she had to take Kahlua to the vet, so that’s why she’s not answering.” Mom DID have to go to the vet today — I was just hoping I got the time right. Then I hung up and I called home. No answer, no machine. Enough to worry a little.
Mom called about fifteen minutes later, making only my second call received at work about the quake. All was well — she had, in fact, been out, driving her little yellow 72 bug into the Long’s parking lot, thinking she had suddenly lost control of the vehicle. When she pulled over to look under the car, a little old lady rushed up and said she thought she was having a heart attack. Together they figured out that neither the car nor the heart was in any great danger. And the house appears fine (with the exception of the water heater, which needs re-strapping and new vent), although everything was knocked down and off.
We finally found out what Dad had done during the shaker. Everyone raised in earthquake country has an automated response to shakes. I’m a doorway gal. If a large enough truck rumbles past my house, I’m standing underneath the door-frame before I can register the fact that I’ve moved. We had a 3.1 last Tuesday and my hair-dryer and I ended up in the bathroom doorway without even shutting the hot air off. Christy, on the other hand, is a duck-and-cover girl. A car crash on her street will send her right under the desk, piles of paper bedamned.
Christy talked to Mom, who had talked to Dad, who had said HIS method, apparently, is to go over to the plate glass window at work and press his nose against the glass. Hey! What’s goin’ on?
He’s from Arizona.
Me? I was born in Phoenix, but you know the saying, if a gal’s born in a barn, it don’t make her a horse. (A sheep, perhaps…..) But I’m a Californian at heart, reared in the gold-land. And I’m a home-girl, too, and I can’t wait to make that drive down the Coast tomorrow, Beth and my two kitties in the car with me, playing some tunes on the stereo, wind in our hair, heading right home to give the little shaken Mama the tight hug she needs.
Mariko lives in Paso, the hardest hit. Go wish her well.
I’ll be (mostly) off-line for the holidays, back Saturday. Have very happy holidays, no matter what you do. Or if, like my some of my best pals, Thursday’s just a good day for movie-hopping with none of that red and green frippery, enjoy that, too. Light a candle, cuddle a pet, kiss a loved one, and knit a little, too. Love to all of you.
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