Which Way Did sHe Go?

Sorry, the author of this blog has gone AWOL. Please enjoy this station identification while we try to locate the lazy sod.

 

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Sitting in the doorways...

Wow. That was some experience.
On an almost nightly basis, 
we have a little man come creeping into our room, 
where I (the super light sleeper) will lift the blanket and wrap it around him as he climbs in.

Last night, after singing several horrendous rounds on Wii Karaoke American Idol, I was sleeping like a brick (nothing like thirty minutes of tearful, hard laughter to help you sleep).










                                                                                                                                  Me before 1 am

Along comes the heaviest, nosiest child I have ever experienced. 
He stomps up the stairs, jumps up and down beside my bed and begins shaking it.

Alright, I know I was sleeping soundly for a couple of reasons:

1.  My bed is a sturdy African Cherry Wood bed that stands high enough that with even my tall 9-year old, the mattress hits him about mid chest-- pretty hard to move the thing around.

2. I also can't imagine how any stomping could sound like a freight train.

But, still fuzzy headed from the sound sleep, I lifted the blanket for that noisy sleep-disruptor, but he didn't get in. In fact, there was no one there. 
That's when my husband and I sat up simultaneously and said, "What the cARp was that?!"

We came downstairs to look around, still trying to determine: Was there a mangled plane crashed somewhere in our garden? Was our house side-swiped by a juggernaut? [All Things British moment: this is what we would call an 18-wheeler. It's a large lorry, or truck]

As I'm tossing these ideas around in my head, I knew it was probably an earthquake and was typing in the address for the U.K. Seismology department. 
Couldn't get through. 
(funny thing about that, the morning news stations keep quoting the U.S.G.S. Dept. I know where to go next time). (next time?!)

My high-strung husband (not) then says, "I'm going back to bed".

"What?! What about the after shocks? What about the kids?".

I blogged (of course) and then sat in front of the telly listening to callers sharing their experiences.


Hats off to you in the western states. I would move. Some people find this stuff exciting. I find it thrilling much in the same way participating in a 36-car pile-up on the freeway would be.

My dusty, useless degree contains a minor in Geology. I, unfortunately, know what is happening inside the earth to shake the outside hard enough to mimic a stomping child and I don't like it. 
Earthquakes have a way of reminding me how little control I have over the grand scheme of things and how little God consults with me before making any final decisions. I don't like it.

What I do like is the British sense of humour.
They're playing Martika's version of "I Feel the Earth Move" today.


Oh wait, I think there's something coming across the telly on the news ticker...


"Largest earthquake felt in Britain in 25 years said to have been caused by...

...some really horrendous karaoke somewhere near Norwich."

Uh oh. The Americans have done it again.