Yesterday, as I was driving to the Greenehouse after work, Nicole called in a panic. Jen had sent her a message saying there was an earthquake, in big, bold letters. Soon after, all communication between the sisters ended. Nicole, in a worried state of mind, called her mother. Then she called me. And then I just stopped. Well, I was still driving. But my mind was trying to process what was going on and all Nicole was getting from me was silence. She probably thought I'd dropped the call.
I, in a worried state of mind, attempted to call Jen. At this point I wasn't sure what to think. As the phone rang, I figured that if she wasn't answering for her sister or her mom, she probably wouldn't answer for me either. And just as I was about to leave a voice message, my phone lost its signal. Nationwide coverage... pssh... Everywhere except that space of 2.5 miles between my house and the Greenes. When I got the signal back I called again and left the message.
Eventually Jen did get back in touch with Nicole. Eventually the newsfeeds said that the quake was a 5.8 with no serious damage or injuries. All's well that ends well.
When I was reading the AP reports about the earthquake, one article mentioned that California sits on three fault lines and balances between two of the world's tectonic plates. The state experiences approximately 10,000 earthquakes annually. Most of the time they're so small that no one can feel them. Do the math: That means that every day, there are about 27 earthquakes on the west coast.
I spent four days out there and felt nothing. Not a rumble, not a tremor. In fact, my house has shaken more when a large truck drives by than anything I experienced while in California.
I should count my blessings though. When I finally talked to Jen yesterday I told her, if it had been me, I probably would have been screaming like a 12-year-old girl.