forces of nature
All right. I would just like to say I am really, REALLY, tired. Jeezu. I have not slept in five days. This is not because I have been having a particularly wild or wonderful time either, which seems completely unfair to me. If you are going to not sleep for five days it seems to me there should be sex, alcohol, or idyllic drugs involved for sure and probably all three combined or what is the point? My five sleepless days, however, revolve around work, a stressed out cat, and a 6.8 earthquake on the richter scale. Which to me is just sick and wrong and not in a good way. Sheesh.
It all started five days ago in San Francisco. Or maybe before San Francisco. Maybe back in August, during the Squaw Valley trip. When my pet sitter sort of lost her mind and the Pepto Bismol Incident occurred. The Pepto Bismol Incident was very bad. It resulted in one dog in intensive care, another dog throwing up uncontrollably at home -- but at least not on an IV feed -- a cat that wanted to sleep under the covers and this is not a cat who usually wants to sleep even in the same room let alone under the covers with me, and pink stains on (in no particular order) white linoleum, white appliances, cream walls, a blonde dog (no kidding, his ears had pink stains on them and there were intereting discolorations on his feet and tail and hocks), and large and exciting expanses of what used to be off white carpet. Especially large and exciting pink spots on what used to be off white carpet. So, on this, my newest sojourn that I was even daring enough to undertake after the Pepto Bismol catastrophe, I found a kennel. An hour drive away and not on the way to the airport either but with nature walks for dogs. Yay! And a big windowey room for Jones with his own private bay window. Yay!
(Little did I know, Jones did not want a Bay Window, Jones wanted a shoe box. Um, ooops.)
All of which gives rise to tonight's thought --
FORCES OF NATURE
Okay, Saturday I was operating on two hours sleep because Friday I had to prepare oatmeal for the dogs and pack all their medications and specially label all their medications and draw up lists of their schedules and when they got those medications and all sorts of exciting stuff that is just what you do have to do when you have an eleven and twelve year old dog going to stay at a kennel. And also I had to load all the pages for the Three Pages contest to be ready to go when I got back Monday because I was going to be out of town over the weekend so those had to be ready to go. So I guess I got to bed around 6 a.m. And then I had to get up at 9 a.m. (which to me is the crack 'o dawn because I do not go to sleep ever until after 3 a.m. and that is only when I am trying to go to bed early) to drive the dogs and Jones to the kennel and get them settled in and give everyone the massive instructions that accompany taking care of them. (Lists!) And drive back and get my suit case and head for parts airport (with an expired driver's license, um, don't tell anyone in law enforcement, I have to get this fixed fast, help!) and just barely catch my plane because apparently Saturday was STUPID DRIVER DAY in Seattle (they were stopping at green lights!) and I, natch, chose MORON LANE (where they stayed stopped through two green lights in a row -- more than once!). But I made the plane, got to San Francisco, stuffed up on M&Ms and read three scripts before Sunday morning when I arrived for my talk with extra time to spare so I could listen to the smartest man on earth, Greg Beal, before climbing onto a little stage to impart what wisdom I have that is not all that much to the twenty-five or so people assembled there. And --
Everyone immediately leaped out of their chairs and ran straight for the nearest exit.
Seriously. They did. They ran out of the room. And the building too.
Okay, it wasn't me. I wore make up and did my hair and everything. Really. I even smelled nice.
It was the earthquake.
It was not a very big earthquake. It was the kind of earthquake California natives just sort of register and then keep talking. But nobody taking that seminar was a native, so they all ran out of the room and the building except for one guy who dodged into an open door --
TIME OUT. Never. Ever. During an earthquake. Stand in a doorway that has a door in it. I know people tell you to do this. That is old, bad knowledge though, passed down from generation to generation among people who have never actually seen what happens to a building when it, the entire building, torques. Do you know how fast a door can slam in a door frame that is torquing along with an entire building under stresses caused by an earthquake big enough to torque an entire building? Very fast. Very hard. And you do not want to be what that door slams on. Ever. So. No doorways. Got it? Good.
So. I looked up to make sure I was not standing directly beneath any kleig lights, (years of school and I do not even know how to spell "kleig lights," wow, how embarassing is that?), and then I stood on my little stage watching everyone run out of the building wondering if they knew about a loose gas main I did not know about. But no. No loose gas mains. Then everyone came back and I lectured them about standing in doorways and then we got on with the seminar. And later, after the seminar was over, I was in a bar with friends talking about this tiny earthquake in San Francisco and I said (fatefully) "Oh I am not worried about earthquakes in San Francisco or Los Angeles, everything here still standing withstood big earthquakes and everything new was built to withstand earthquakes. It is Seattle I worry about, Seattle is due and they don't build for eathquakes -- "
Three days later I am in Seattle and Jones is upset about the window experience and yelling each morning at 5 a.m. to make sure he is not alone and after I get him settled --
A 6.8 earthquake strikes.
In Seattle.
Holy cats.
They say nothing like this has happend in sixty years. Maybe a century.
It is a real earthquake, too. Not like that flighty jig in San Francisco. This is a serious earthquake. That makes the whole building sway. That lasts and lasts. While dogs are yelling "The Gerries are coming!" I settle them down in the vanity enclave and check the bathroom to make sure everything that fell off the walls onto the floor did not break and leave glass on the floor for just in case we have to get out of the vanity enclave if the mirror starts bowing. A real eathquake. That gives you time to think and plan and settle dogs down and check for glass issues.
Since I have moved to Seattle, there have been riots, bomb threats, more riots, raging forest fires, more riots, an energy crisis, a drout, and now, a great big spanking for real lasted something like a minute earthquake.
People are starting to give me the fish eye. Well, okay, have been giving me the fish eye. Since I got here. And moved straight into the downtown WTO riots. (Tear gas fun for everyone!) They know it is me. I know it is not me. How could it be me? No one can pin that Northridge thing on me. I hadn't even moved to Los Angeles yet. I was just, um, planning to. And okay when I did move to Los Angeles in '95, the worst rain storm in over a century struck Southern California (I'm serious, El Nino was a joke compared to the rain of '95) and Pacific Pallisades fell on the Pacific Coast Highway. And, well, there was that year I drove cross country and the entire country was struck by a storm the likes of which no one had ever seen, I was supposed to be driving in through Eureka and ended up coming in through Death Valley and San Diego because they were closing highways so fast and it was the first time I stepped foot in Utah and the Salt Dome collapsed. And natch there was the year I moved to Utah. When the winter storms were so bad, they had to call in the National Guard to haul snow out. The year that hurricane flattened Houston, though, I was not even there yet. I had just, um, decided to move there. And Louisiana only got struck by one hurricane while I was there. Well, okay, three, but only one came inland enough to actually attack New Orleans. Which has only happened once in the last century so there. And I know that 747 that lost engine power over Florida had nothing to do with me. And for sure that flood that hit Northern California when we moved there was not me. Okay, that had not happend in over a century either but --
I WAS TEN!
You can't blame a flood on a ten year old!
Can you?
Okay, fine, I am a force of nature. Everywhere I even think about going, weather patterns change, the earth and sky move, turmoil ensues. And once I get there, heaven help the natives and let's hope they can swim.
But it is not on purpose!
Everyone come to my book party. It will be fun. And hopefully not the end of the world as we know it.
Love and Kisses,
Your Force of Nature Adams Girl
PS: I am the new Hollywood columnist for g21, my column launches mid-March, come see.
PPS: Horoscope Woman says romanticaly this month I am "one of the zodiac's favorites!" (What a fibber.)
