I Feel The Earth Move Under My Feet

Or whatever it was that Carole King sang.

A couple of days ago, I didn't know what Ridgecrest was.   Maybe a cemetery.  Or a senior citizens' assisted living facility.   

Now I know.   It was the epicenter of two thrill rides that I got to experience a couple of days ago.

Welcome to Earthquake Land.

Okay, there's a price to pay no matter where you live.   I was every well versed in the pitfalls of being a New Yorker.  Blizzards, hurricanes, and hair curling humidity.  Only the months of May and October offer any sort of temperance of climate.

There's crippling heat in Texas and probably only two days a year over 32 degrees in North Dakota.  Yep, everybody gets a little something.

Well, here in SoCal, the weather is mostly enjoyable.  Your penance here?   The random earthquake.  Now, for the most part, everybody is still patiently waiting for the so-called Big One.  You get little shakes from now and then.    One of the first weekends after I had moved here 22 years ago, there were two on successive overnights.  You wake up.  You put on the AM radio next to the bed.   You listen to a couple of people call in with their stories and you go back to sleep.

But last week's shakes were the largest I had felt ever and it was noteworthy since the epicenter was 150 miles away.

The July 4 rattler found me seated in my recliner in the living room.   There was a vibration.  I immediately thought it was the noisy dimwit upstairs.   Nope, she has sublet her unit.   When the terrace door started to shake in its moorings, I knew it was going to be a big one.

Yes, the Dodger bobbleheads did indeed bobble.

The whole thing lasted for about 45 seconds.   That's a long one for me.   I thought about my trip to Dodger Stadium later that day.   Hmmm.   Being in a tiered 57-year-old ballpark could be perilous.   But, once I popped on the news channels, I realized we were in the outlying areas of where the real trouble was.

No worries.

And then Friday night.   I was actually in a movie theater.   Suddenly, it felt like somebody really fat was walking down the stadium seating steps.   But then the walls seemed to rattle.

And rattle.  

And rattle.

And rattle.

Screw the movie.   Much of the audience stood up and started to hit the lobby.

Everyone out there was checking in with their own personal town halls...AKA...the phone.   I almost instantaneously saw the number registering for this "aftershock."

7.1.   And it lasted over a minute.

After about ten minutes of people wandering around the lobby, the theater manager made an announcement.

"We've restarted the movie."

Given this is Hollywood, everybody went back to their seats.   To await the next one.  Or the following ones.  Or the Big One.

Like I said, everybody lives with a little something.   Or maybe a Big something.

Dinner last night:  Sausage, peppers, and onions.