{"id":224,"date":"2004-06-16T03:03:00","date_gmt":"2004-06-16T03:03:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bobtherieau.com\/blog\/index.php\/2004\/06\/16\/8b3f04fd-edd9-4cd6-827f-9fc4b27784b0\/"},"modified":"2018-06-13T01:29:41","modified_gmt":"2018-06-13T01:29:41","slug":"8b3f04fd-edd9-4cd6-827f-9fc4b27784b0","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bobtherieau.com\/blog\/2004\/06\/8b3f04fd-edd9-4cd6-827f-9fc4b27784b0\/","title":{"rendered":""},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

No! Bus Go By!*<\/b><\/p>\n

Earthquake, whatever. At 3:29, I was in the rather delicate position of, er, using the facilities at The 1912 House, when I suddenly felt weak in the knees…<\/p>\n

“This is odd,” I thought.<\/p>\n

Maybe I was growing weak from missing another lunch break working at San Diego’s Omnipresent Charitable Organization. Maybe I’d overdosed on Trader Joe’s Multivitamin Supplement. Perhaps I had lifted too many heavy things the night before and reinjured my back—sending waves of neural dyslexia down through my legs (which was not out of the question). Then, while still engaged in my, um, activity, it hit…<\/p>\n

WHAM!<\/b><\/p>\n

Either somebody had hit the house with a 800 lb. sledgehammer, or a car had leapt over the curb and crashed into the house, or a giant himself had lifted the house two or three inches only to drop it with a thud, or we’d had what promised to be the first in a series of major earthquakes.<\/p>\n

Not a series, fortunately, just a single, well-documented event<\/a>.<\/p>\n

We’re all safe. Neither us, the pups, not the house was harmed in any way. In fact, after getting off the phone with my sister this afternoon, she related that her son treated it like a non-event. “Earthquake? Why?” “When the earth shakes underneath you, that’s called an earthquake.” “Okay momma.” And that was that. By the way, he’s two.<\/p>\n

That kid’s gonna be a pro when the big one hits.<\/p>\n

Your pal,<\/p>\n

bob<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

No! Bus Go By!* Earthquake, whatever. At 3:29, I was in the rather delicate position of, er, using the facilities at The 1912 House, when I suddenly felt weak in the knees… “This is odd,” I thought. Maybe I was growing weak from missing another lunch break working at San Diego’s Omnipresent Charitable Organization. Maybe … <\/p>\n

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