I can’t say that I’m actually used to earthquakes, but having lived most of my life in Southern California I think I am pretty good at recognizing when the earth is quaking. Sometimes it’s so subtle, that all you notice is a hanging lamp or a curtain that is slightly swinging and then you wait for the swift shake that’s sure to follow.
I’ve lived through some big ones, so I would call myself Earthquake Experienced.
So I notice the ornaments on our Christmas tree swinging and immediately I yell, "earthquake!"
(I know these things, remember?)
Just as quickly, Eric corrects me: "Not an earthquake . . . it’s a cat!"
Me (tilting my head in a kind of confused puppy way): "huh?"
"El gato esta en el arbolito."
I understood what he said in English. . .
I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it in either language because I know a quaking tree can only mean one thing and that is that we’re having an earthquake!
Run for your lives!!
Oops. . .
I’m just going to go lay down before I hurt myself. (sigh)