Style be damned for the moment. I must break away from my usual posts and talk about an experience that is very unusual for someone born and bred in New Jersey: earthquakes.
At a little before 4:30, I was working at the computer in my home office. All of a sudden, the wine glasses hanging from a rack in the dining room started to play a symphony. My desk chair began to shake…items on my desk moved ever so slightly…and the entire house began to rattle. I ran into the hallway and looked down into the great room. One of my cats stood at the base of the stairs, peering up at me with wide eyes. (It took a half hour for cat #2 to come out of hiding.) The wine glasses were still playing their little song, and I could still feel the movement of the house. The situation became glaringly clear. Earthquake.
I called my husband on his cell. No answer. I called my neighbor Jan, who had just left my house minutes before. “Did you feel that?”
And that’s when I got scared. Did I just have my own personal earthquake, or was there something wrong in my house that would translate to an explosion within minutes? (Yes, I have the worrier gene…a really big one, at that.)
I immediately jumped online to see what I could find out, but all the earthquake info for Northern California was from at least 24 hours ago. And then I had a brainstorm. Twitter.
Sure enough, there were already dozens of postings about the 6.5 offshore quake, 25 miles off the coast of Eureka and 10 miles deep.
Where I hail from, the earth doesn’t move. Even in this part of California, it’s rare to even feel an earthquake, let alone truly experience one. I felt a few small tremors when we lived in LA, but this was the longest duration of movement I’ve ever experienced.
I don’t think my heart rate is quite back to normal yet.