Natural Disasters in the Granola State

People find great pleasure in mocking Californians. I suppose it’s easy. We even mock ourselves. When I taught in San Jose, my colleagues called our grade level teachers the “granolas”- the fruits, nuts and flakes. Despite being grossly politically incorrect, the label was accurate.

Friends outside of California seem to think we experience daily earthquakes. I’m cautious in sharing about the recent earthquake when I realize I could have been killed by books as I watched the six foot bookshelf by my chair shake and lurch. My three year old stood in the doorway, eyes bulging and mouth frozen in a giant “O”. I scooped him up and we stood in the door frame, his arms around my neck as he repeatedly whispered, “Scary”. I rather enjoyed the rocking and rolling sensation, but unlike my kid, it wasn’t my first and I knew the earth would eventually calm its self.

I cancelled class yesterday to rush home after my husband told me our neighborhood was on fire. Southern California has the distinct pleasure of experiencing earthquakes in addition to floods, fires, draught and an occasional bout with locust. I’ve heard out-of-staters claim it’s God’s punishment on us all for the filth that oozes out of Hollywood. Perhaps God is targeting the San Fernando Valley- top producer of pornography, but I rather doubt it. I have my own theory. God is using Darwin’s theory of natural selection. You have to be hearty and a little nutty- back to the granola theory- to make it in California- a place where a half million dollar three bedroom home seems like a steal and traffic can triple or double the time and frustration of a commute. I believe God is simply trying to prepare Southern Californians for when the state becomes an island after the next huge earthquake. We’ll need to be more resourceful, understand the logic of over-inflated property values and deal with natural catastrophes since the government will stop caring so much about our little far off island. It will primarily be out of jealousy. It’s just a theory.

New Favorite Quote

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing."
~Benjamin Franklin

Pregnant or Just Getting Chunky?

I took a pregnancy test last night. Not that I could possibly be pregnant, but it was the only viable explanation for my burgeoning belly. Granted I’ve been training for a 10K, but I’ve also been eating for triplets lately. On Tuesday, my grandma turned 90, so I took her to an all-you-can-eat Japanese food buffet. Please note- buffet is never a good idea. I try to eat my money’s worth or at least the equivalent to my weight - in food. I tried to eat all the foods I don’t typically consume- like spicy lobster balls. Those aren’t a staple food at my house and so I justified eating five, along with two plates of sushi, a plate of desserts, and other things I probably should not have consumed in the same month. That night, my grandma wanted Kentucky Fried Chicken- her other favorite food. Something she remembers that I’ve temporarily forgotten is that the key to an acceptable number on the scale is the same calories in as out. She walks each morning and rides her stationary bike. That’s why she’s 90 and still living independently. My grandma can eat whatever the hell she pleases because she’s smart about it. Me- I eat until I’ve made myself sick and my fingers are so swollen with MSG and sodium the next day that I can barely type.

The next night I had a meeting at a Chinese food restaurant. Again, I thought it a good idea to order things I don’t usually eat. I don’t usually eat them because they are mostly dishes of pork and deep fried, high caloric foods swimming in pools of salt and grease. And this would explain why in a few weeks I’ve developed a muffin top and can’t understand why my pants don’t fit the same way.

I’m not pregnant. I just need to lay off the Oreos and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. Perhaps when I’m 90 I can splurge a little.