Pink Pop-Tarts?

Three things, in two articles, on a recent front page of the Los Angeles Times newspaper, scared the living daylights out of me. The articles appeared above the fold-- the top half of the paper, meaning their placement implied the information was really important. I took notice.

First was the fact, and I can't stress the word "fact" enough-- that WalMart shipped huge quantities of strawberry Pop-Tarts to Florida-- during a hurricane-- Because apparently, when Mother Nature smacks people upside the head, Pop-Tarts are the food of choice.

The second alarming "fact" was that WalMart had statistical and historical data to prove the wildly insane increase in sales of strawberry Pop-Tarts to justify driving 18-wheelers full of the stuff into the eye of the storm! I'm sure this says something about the "people of WalMart", the American public in general and Pop-Tarts' marketing strategy, but seriously-- The pink ones? Not the chocolate or the brown sugar cinnamon ones? And why Pop-Tarts of all things?

The third and final alarming above the fold "fact" in the LA Times that day was a headline screaming-- in all capital letters to drive the point home even further-- GET READY TO RUMBLE, about new data strongly suggesting a major Southern California earthquake-- in the 8.1 magnitude range, is coming our way.

Egad!

Regular readers of this space will know information of this nature sends chills down my spine and reminds me yet again, why I do not like living on the West Coast, especially Los Angeles, which would be hugely impacted by the next "big one" discussed in this news story. In short, I hate earthquakes and this article, with descriptions like "grim", "dangerous" and my favorite-- "sleeping giant" makes me want to head for the hills-- on the East Coast.

The separate and unrelated articles gave me serious enough pause that I saved them to reread upon return from my recent vacation-- When I was more rested and relaxed. Problem was, I thought of this information several times while I was away and wondered if the editors at the Times deliberately intended for the alarming facts to be positioned together, on the same front page, leaving me to conclude...

I will be eating pink Pop-Tarts after a massive earthquake in the very near future.

Not Cheez Wiz. Not canned Spam. Not Cocoa Puffs cereal. Not baked beans with little wieners in it. No, I will be eating strawberry Pop-Tarts in my time of crisis, which, according to WalMart data, is the breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions when the chips are down. How depressing is that!

Don't get me wrong, the fear of a ginormous earthquake does not go unnoticed. I take it and earthquake preparedness very seriously, but I can assure you that, as far as food is concerned, my emergency nourishment stash does not include a single Pop-Tart, let alone pink ones, no matter what WalMart's computerized data says. In fact, they never even crossed my mind.

I do have tons of bottled water, apple juice, powdered milk and instant coffee. Boxes of mac and cheese, canned soups, pasta and sauce, dried fruits, nuts and the likes are all on hand too, rotated every six months for freshness. And granted, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese is only a slight notch above Pop-Tarts but at least I've seen it served on the Kid's Menu in restaurants.

Ideally, if I could keep a supply of comfort food on hand for a crisis, it would include all the makings of a Thanksgiving dinner, gourmet pizza, endless quantities of chocolate cake and my Mom's meatloaf, but obviously that's not going to happen. So I'll stick with the above mentioned "instant foods" and pray I don't see a convoy of Pop-Tart trucks pulling into my nearest FEMA or Red Cross rescue station when the "big one" hits.

Then again, maybe I should buy a couple boxes of the chocolate Pop-Tarts just to be on the safe side.

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

PS I'm just back from vacation and will be making the rounds to catch up with all of you over the next week.

Wobbling

So there I was at the cemetery-- An old friend, June, passed away on April Fool's Day-- She would have found great humor in that so I mention it here-- And she was being buried on Easter Sunday, again another "rising" subject she'd have made a joke about with no disrespect intended.

I arrived early for the funeral to visit another dear friend, "S", buried at the same cemetery a year and a half ago. "S" was a great, great, gal pal and I miss her terribly.

I'd been standing at her grave for a good ten minutes-- On my toes, so my high heels wouldn't sink into the ground. It was windy and I was sad and I started to feel a little wobbly. I blamed it on crying and my shoes so I stepped onto a paved walkway next to her grave. With both feet firmly planted on the sidewalk, I still felt uneasy and I momentarily questioned if I was about to passout.

Hmmm, my head felt fine, but my vision, as I focused on the grave marker, was shaky at best. I continued to wobble but a few moments later felt fine again. I thought it best to slowly make my way to the gathering for June's funeral.

I sat at the back of the Chapel in case I was in fact getting sick and needed to make a hasty retreat. But by the time the funeral started I was beginning to think I had dreamed the whole thing. My eyes focused, the prayers were easy to read, and standing and sitting weren't a problem.

After the service, I stood out in the fresh air and breathed deeply. Since I was feeling fine I dismissed the earlier incident as a heavy heart.

Then I started my car and turned on the radio. Helloooo! Earthquake! Why didn't I think of that? I'd felt a big 7.2 quake centered in northern Mexico that lasted upwards of 40 seconds. I didn't have spaghetti legs, or vision problems, the earth really was moving. Dang, I hate when that happens.

Once I figured things out, I thought of my friend, June, and what a kick she would have gotten out of having an earthquake at her funeral. Her sense of humor was legendary and I'm sure she was looking down at me saying with a wink, "fooled you".

Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins

Photo Credit: © Vickie - Fotolia.com

I. Hate. Earthquakes.

Note:  Update - It's now Tuesday around 3:55pm PT - and we had another one on the same fault line.  This was a 4.1 with a big jolt!   Grrrrrr!!!!!!

We interrupt this blog for an earthquake.

So hear I sit, trying not to hyperventilate, because we just has a fairly big earthquake in Los Angeles.  For the record-- I.  Hate. Earthquakes!

It's Sunday night, so all the local news networks have their "B" teams working.  Only one is actually even broadcasting at the moment.  Gawd forbid, local news interrupts national prime-time programming to report live breaking news.  (It's about 8:45pm PT).  Nothing against them, but it's a skeleton crew and they haven't said anything other than-- "Whoa!  Did you feel that shaker!"  Seriously, that's what the Sunday night news anchor had to say.   It was not comforting.

Ten minutes later, I still know NOTHING.  Not how big, where it was centered or the size of the aftershocks. What do I know? Well, I know it lasted 15 seconds (that feels like 2 hours in earthquake time) and started with a grumble that turned into what sounded like a helicopter hovering over our house-- A weird, vibrating feeling and not an earthquake noise I've heard before.  

My husband was upstairs and he said it was really swaying up there.  Down here it vibrated so instantly-- and for so long, that I actually yelped.  (Yes, I yelped, and no, I'm not embarrassed for being such a wimp.)  In the past several months we've had a lot of earthquake activity and well, damn it!  I'm not liking it.

I was raised in Ohio where earthquakes are rare (as in-- never in my lifetime) so you can imagine how much fun this is for me.  I lived in Los Angeles in 1994 when we had the last really big ass one-- The 6.9 or 7.2 shaker depending on who you're talking to. It was nasty and our house broke.  After that one, I spent two weeks sitting in my wide open back yard away from anything that could fall on me (again).  If I wasn't a brand new newlywed at the time, I'd have pried open our garage door, gotten in my car and driven East as fast as I could.

Did I mention I.  Hate.  Earthquakes?

Oh, now the girl on the news announced it was a 5.0 quake. Crap.  That's big, although she's calling it "moderate".   I'm sitting in my tv room, looking across the hall.  All of my hanging pictures (big paintings) are cock-eyed and crooked.  My husband is running around the house checking for cracks and object on edges (object bounce off shelves in earthquakes).   I gave up checking for cracks years ago. There is no such thing as "crack-free" walls in Los Angeles.

Crap-- There's another aftershock-- A slow roller.  I feel seasick. Grrrrr.  And the 5.0 was centered 10 miles from here.  Dang!

So now the tv news girl is getting all fired up and using words like "violent shaking", "dramatic vibrations", "frightened, mortified, hysterical callers into the tv station" (No, not me). Oh, really now,  she's not helping at all.  I need to find another channel.  Nothing.  I'm turning the tv off-- And thinking god we still have power. There is nothing worse than an earthquake at night with no lights!  

Ahh, that's better, I turned  on a portable radio and am sitting in the back yard.  It's freezing outside but I feel better now.  The old guy working the Sunday night radio shift has been through this a lot and is so calming.  I can almost breathe again.

Shit--  Another aftershock!  The aftershock mentioned about was a 3.1, this one feels a little smaller.  Phew.  

Why on earth I'm blogging is beyond me, but I somehow feel safer since my husband has LEFT ME ALONE  in the back yard to poke around in the basement.  Don't worry about me honey!

There's a caller on the radio talking to the old guy.  She's upset about her Winnie the Pooh plate collection falling off the shelf in the earthquake.  I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

Great-- They just lowered the rating to a 4.7 earthquake,not a 5.0.  Why is that not more comforting to me?!?

It's been about 5o minutes now.  The radio guy is saying no injuries reported so that's great.  Maybe it's okay to go back in the house-- To put on all my cloths, my sneakers, my coat and my hard hat, along with my emergency whistle around my neck. Then I'll try to settle in and get some sleep..... Or not.

Thanks for keeping me company.  

Welcome to TheFiftyFactor  -  Joanna