Coachubby and I had an 11:45am track work-out lunch date yesterday at our local high school. Arriving a few minutes early, I watched pint-sized flag-football players line up for Subway sandwiches, then migrate to a shady spot on the bleachers. Then, when the sandwich delivery van (aka a mom-mobile) drove by, the ground shook. Like in a sea-sickening wavy motion.
"Geez," I thought to myself, "these bleachers aren't engineered very well if they shake whenever a car drives by."
Then I overheard a teenager talk to her boyfriend. "I am not crazy!" she said. "It wasn't just me!"
"Did you just feel the ground shake?" I asked.
"Yes!"
"Me too, you're not crazy."
Finally, coachubby shows up, unaware that we were all just in an earthquake. My first. At least, the first I really noticed without being told by the media that I should've noticed it. Coachubby missed it entirely, since he was already bobbing up and down as he ran over.
The quake was officially measured at a magnitude of 5.4 on the Richter Scale, and lasted only 30 seconds. The epicenter was apparently 29 miles east, southeast of Los Angeles and 7.6 miles underground.
Technically, it was kind of a baby. But it gave the media something to talk about around here besides Brangelina's twins. In fact, ABC even interrupted Oprah to show still camera shots of toiletries on the floors of Wal-Marts, and off-kilter photos on the walls of the homes of random Los Angeles families.
The moral of the story is, if you ever want to surf on land right before you do a big, painful track workout, move to Los Angeles.
And that is today's word.
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