All Shook Up

Me, too, Elvis.  Me, too.

A nice jolt of oy vey got the SJG shaking this morning.  Not just me. Maybe you, too.  My first reaction, perfected over 56 years, is always to remain calm and collected.  Oh, wait, I'm talking about hubby. I'm the one who freaks out and assumes it's the end of the world. As the house started to move involuntarily, without written permission, I went to the dark place.  Standard operating procedure.  "@#$%! No! @#$%!" Hubby, on the other hand, reacted accordingly. "It's okay.  Stay calm." Always good to be married to a former boy scout in scary-ass times, especially those that shake me to the very core of my being.  At 6:25 a.m., I turned all religious. "Oh, God, oh no."  Hubby just wanted the facts and started predicting the magnitude of the earthquake. "That was a 5," he guessed. Well, more like a 4.4, centered right in Westwood/Encino-ish.  But inside the SJG, it felt more like a 10, at least. So. Good morning, Los Angeles.  Happy Aftershocks to you and you.  And happy St. Patrick's Day, too.  A shot of whiskey in my coffee?  Don't mind if I do.