Shake, Rattle and Roll, It's Earthquake Season in LA

I had a great welcome home gift last week- an earthquake.  Literally, as the plane’s wheels touched the tarmac, the earth started shaking. Not that I could feel it—at LAX everything feels like the ground is moving.  But the word spread through the plane like lightening; someone had gotten a text. I love LA!

It was centered pretty far away from where I live, but by the time I had gotten home, there had been a couple of pretty sizable aftershocks. The dogs and the cat didn’t seem to care and the horses just wanted snacks, so I don’t think it was much felt in my neck of the far West Valley. That is a very good thing indeed.

On St. Patrick’s Day we also had a pretty decent rumbler, which the wags in the media immediately dubbed the Shamrock Shake. Oh so clever!  That one was based quite close to home. At six in the morning. It was quite a wake-up call.

I know that the powers that be that is the US Geological Survey, swears that there is no such thing as ‘earthquake weather.’ They are wrong.    Circumstantial evidence however, proves that in many cases, when we have really odd weather—like the 90 degree day that proceeded  the St. Patrick’s Day trembler,

we often have an earthquake. So there.

I did discover that Poppy, the Brittany is an accurate early warning system.  About a minute before the quake she woke up and started running around the house yapping. That in itself isn’t unusual, but it was early in the morning and she’d been fast asleep. I’ve had dogs that were predictors before; the downside is that they aren’t dependable. Every time they start acting weird, you think the Big One is about to hit. But most of the time, they are just acting odd. It’s impossible to tell if anything is going on until the ground starts to shake. Or not.  It does tend to make you a little paranoid.

The Danes didn’t notice the quake in advance.  It actually felt like both big dogs had hopped on the bed and started bouncing around. Except they were already on the bed. My true defender, Murray, woke up with the jolt and immediately started to bark at the quake. That was helpful.

I didn’t grow up in Southern California, and I truly hate earthquakes. They scare the crap out of me. After any sizable shaker, I start imagining that I’m feeling the earth move all the time. I live with giant dogs. When they run around the house it rattles and shakes. I find myself looking up at light fixtures a lot. If they are swaying it’s not good.

The first earthquake I really remember was Northridge. It was huge. Freeways feel down and broken gas lines blew up houses. That was when I knew I wasn’t living in Connecticut any more.  

Northridge is only about three miles away from where I now live. A lot of people helpfully brought that to my attention when I moved. But, perhaps naively, I believe that if my house survived that quake, it’ll be fine in the next one. Unless of course, we have the Big One. And then we’re all toast anyway. So what difference does it make?

The quakes in early March were the first sizable ones we’d had in several years, which meant that no one was as prepared as they should be. According to the Goddess of Quakes, the US Geological Survey’s Dr. Lucy Jones, everybody should have an earthquake kit.  I agree, at least in principal.

I dug mine out just to check. I found three gallons of bottled water, three cans of dog food, a 12-pack of Diet Pepsi Max, three cans of cat food and a can opener.  Oh, and some Girl Scout cookies.

There’s also a bunch of flashlights.  Somewhere there is a windup radio so I won’t have to sit in my car in my pajamas freezing, like I did after Northridge. If I can only remember where it is.

Dr. Jones recommends that you have enough in your kit to last you for five days. I figure I’m good for about a day and a half. If I throw a couple of cans of tuna in the bag.  And maybe a bottle of wine. Definitely a bottle of wine. And a bottle opener.

Right after the first March quake I heard from a lot of my East Coast friends and family, initially to check, and then to see if I’d had enough and was ready to return to solid ground.  I have spent a lot of time in New England this winter. The weather each visit has been horrid. Snowing, below zero and downright miserable. When I left last week people were positively giddy at the thought of a 40 degree day.

 I don’t think I’m moving back any time soon. But get back to me again after the next major quake.