So, my phone rang this morning, right in the middle of my deep, pre-alarm REM sleep.  You know, the one where I woke up when the sun came up, then reminded myself it was 5a.m. and went back to sleep?  Yeah, that one.  And then, an hour or so later, *ring*, Ivey’s wife Alejandra called me.  Ivey’s in the states right now, and she knows my Spanish is not always the best, but she called because she was watching the news and knows I don’t have a TV.  Japan is devastated, and there’s a tsunami sweeping the Pacific Ocean.  She was worried, because she also knows I live right on the Pacific coast.  Beh!  She told me in the simplest terms she could (trust me, I understand words like temblor and tsunami in pretty much any language) and sent me off to check the internet to see if I’m in any danger.

Looks like I won’t be hanging out at the beach today, but it seems we’re on the lower end of the wave-range here.  We’re going to get some ugly surf this afternoon, most likely over on the Santa Theresa side, but that seems to be all.  I’m pretty high up, so I’m not concerned.  Sigh.

Every day is an adventure.

I’m brokenhearted for Japan.  What’s happened there, and is still going on, is horrific.  It’s moments like these, when I sit safely discussing how I won’t be deeply affected by a disaster, that I feel most guilty.  I’m safe, and blogging about how I’m not worried, while there are tens of thousands of people homeless, dead or missing, and facing who-knows-how-long without power.  I mourn for them.

Thanks to The Telegraph for the map and the latest information.

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