We knew nothing, I mean nothing, about the tsunami warning until my cousin called this morning from Tennessee. She knows more about what is going on in California than I do. Always. Thankfully. Someone has to catch my freefalling arse. She also knows us pretty well, so she prefaced her call with, “This is not a joke. Japan had an earthquake and a possible tsunami is headed your way. You should evacuate.” Don’t need to tell me twice. I don’t even remember springing flatfooted from the bed and landing in the kitchen. We loaded the car with the Little Dog, her food (none for us), the computer, and headed off for the San Bruno MacDonald’s, which was apparently Evacuation Headquarters.
A couple of things about Evacuation Headquarters.
1) We forgot Her Highness’s poop bags. Had to use MacDonald’s sacks. Hope no one is dumpster diving for leftovers there.
2) MacDonald’s now has uber yuumy cinnamon buns and oatmeal. We may be back on a non-emergency.
We sat there a while, and then, the smokers flushed us out of the parking lot. It was getting really crowded with evacuees. We drifted over to Loew’s and sat there until the waves hit Santa Cruz, and then, supposedly the Linda Mar. After that, we headed for the house. When we got home, I walked down to the Linda Mar Beach to snap some photos while Hubby mowed the yard. You never know. We may have a tsunami tonight and a mowed yard looks mighty purty under water.
This was as far as I got at the Linda Mar Beach.
The police woman walked down the driveway where I was standing and told me the ocean was receding. I needed to run. And I did. Maybe she was joking. Maybe she wasn’t. I didn’t hang around to find out. I ran down to the Linda Mar Shopping Center. No, that is not a safe distance but the Pacifica Historical Society is having a rummage sale there today benefitting the little brown church. I bought some old glass telephone insulators for $2 each. Great price. Very cute. We will be evacuating again at 2pm. I have a doctor’s appointment in the city. We will evacuate there with the Little Dog, and if that doctor says anything about the canine, I’m telling the curmudgeon that the Little Dog is a comfort animal, and if not that, a biter.