"Oh, my, yes" the old man tells his grandchildren, a twinkle in his eye and cookie crumbs on his shirt, "I was there for the great quake of ought-eight. It sure was something. I woke up with a baby next to my head--your grandma had a habit of waking in the night and laying your uncle Sean in the bed with us--and the whole bed was shaking. I could feel the frame of the house shaking, too, and it seemed to go on for a long time, but of course I was very sleepy so I wasn't sure."
"That's scary, grandpa! What did you do?"
"Well, I sort of growled at the dog to stop running around the room and shaking the bed. And the shaking stopped, so I was pretty well satisfied."'
"You--wait, what? I don't get it."
"I imagine the dog felt much the same way."
Hey, I don't promise much at 4:30 in the morning. We felt the quake pretty strongly here, but for all who've asked, we're fine. It sounds like there are no serious injuries reported anywhere. Other than wondering why it went on so long, I have to admit that I was completely clueless about what was going on. I felt the shaking, all right, and I wondered about it, but the word "earthquake" never entered my mind. I hope I do a little better if the big one in the New Madrid Fault ever lets go; that one could cause us structural damage and someone could get hurt.
This one didn't even wake up the rest of the family; Kane and I were the only ones who felt it. And for anyone wondering if the dog story is true, you'd have to know our dogs. We have our own little 9mm vs. .45 debate happening at home every day--huge and slow vs. small and fast. There is much structural shaking.
(I'm trying something new with the email posting here, since it always seems to make the first few lines come out the same color as the background. We'll see if it works. Also, I can't access the comments pages at work, so if you want to ask me something, you might not get an answer right away.)