What an eventful 24 hours!
It all started around 2:15am Saturday morning... when I was convinced someone was breaking into my bedroom window. After leaping out of bed- or trying to, since my center of gravity was oddly off, despite my lack of alcohol the night before- I realized every window in my house was rattling. And in my sleep induced haze, I decided to confirm via Twitter what I already knew: an earthquake! In Oklahoma! A 4.7!
Maizy was petrified- that whole animal instinct thing- and so we moved to the couch (my safety spot, don't judge) where she slept on my neck all night and I... tossed and turned.
But! I rallied in the morning. And with coffee in hand, I drove to Norman to spend a day with my family for OU's Family Weekend.
12 hours later, content after a fun day with my favorites, I returned home. I changed my bedroom clock back an hour. And on my way to the kitchen to change the microwave clock- I heard a dump truck coming down the street.
At 11pm at night? What the-
I spent the next full minute in the doorway of my living room, watching as my mirror bounced precariously from the wall and a wine bottle perched on top of the fridge danced dangerously close to the edge. Earthquake #2! This one record-breaking for the Sooner State: a 5.6!
Needless to say, I'm writing this post- and parked for the remainder of the evening- in my beloved safety spot. Good thing it's so comfy.
The Sooner State is shaking!
I am oddly unsettled. I can handle 115 degree heat. I can shovel snow and ice with the best of them. And I can pack a mean tornado shelter kit in under 2 minutes. In fact, I scoff at green skies.
But earthquakes? That's a wholllle different ball game. No warning. No prep time. One minute you're brushing your teeth, and the next you're hovering in a door frame.
I lived in California until I was 7 years old. And on my 7th birthday, an earthquake hit just an hour before my big birthday bash. This was in 1991, when it was mandatory to wear your favorite frilly dress to a birthday party. So imagine my dismay when all of my friends, too scared to return home to put on their party dresses after school, showed up at my house wearing pants.
I have not recovered from that. And every time my house rattled from the rooftops the past 24 hours, I once again became a 7-year-old little girl whose mother has thrown herself on top of my Wizard of Oz cake to protect it from a swinging chandelier.
Despite the fact I'm a tiny bit fearful as I fall asleep tonight- it's just one more "shake up" to reflect on. When we're rattled, shaken up, tossed around a bit- we learn to appreciate our center of gravity so much more.
On that note, I'm off to sleep! And no, I'm not leaving my safety spot. :)