California earthquakes make me nerve-e-ous. I needed leadership.

I'm not only a crack reporter waiting for an imaginary press pass to cover the imaginary come back by Hillary Clinton at the Denver convention, I'm also a seamstress. More on that later...

I was just inserting the needle into the corner of my California patio pillow when the quake began. I jumped up, grabbed it and looked around then wondered what to do.

Yes, your intrepid twit, panicked. I panicked.

I can't believe that I--so strong, so able, so advanced and evolved--who actually once saved another person's life (well, I pulled the table away so the guy could give my friend the Heimlich)--panicked.

How many years had it been since I had ever asked what to do? I was amazed at my fear. How long ago? At least since the night on a 32-foot boat in the middle of the south Pacific in the middle of a 60-knot gale at night, when we had big foresail up--and I had to take the helm of the boat. Somehow we had to get that sail down.

I was so scared. I gasped at the skipper as I struggled to pull the yellow all-weather gear over my sweaty body, "I don't know what to do." I hated how the rubber felt on my salt rubbed skin.

"Head her into the wind," he called back as he raced up the companionway. Easy for him to scream, I thought.

When I finally hooked myself to the boat, I took control of the helm. I stared at the sail in awe of the force of the wind. It looked like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. We were heeled over port about...eh...39? degrees? Not sure...the keel wasn't out of the water--yet--the very event we trying to avoid. That was the good news. It's a blur sometimes when I think back.

Which way was the wind? Where was the wind, for God's sake? I do remember wondering that. In a storm so raging it's sometimes hard to figure where the wind comes from.

The skipper hung with his mate, their harnesses hitched to the boat like my own so they wouldn't get thrown overboard and he pointed starboard. I turned the wheel and turned and turned and turned and finally the sails luffed. I could barely see through the rain and wind.

"Hold her there." Did he say hold her there? I could barely hear him and could only pray what I heard was correct. Hold her?

I watched the compass and watched the wind, hoping I was "holding her there." Was I?

I thought it took every muscle and everything I had to keep her headed into that 6o-knot wind, but somehow we all did it. The sail came down and we were safe. But it was really easier than it seemed, I'm sure. The romanticism of it was must be greater than the actual deed itself. I don't talk about it much. But it does bring to mind tonight the importance of trust and leadership.

Once the sail came down, the skipper took over and my responsibility was over.

I just needed to know what to do. Instruction. That's all we need I guess. Leadership.

Today? In the earthquake, I thought the house was going to fall on me. Our ceilings are 20 feet. The two-story stairs were before me and my husband was up in his office.

I screamed the same darned thing I did 30 years ago, "I don't know what to do!"

My husband came down immediately and asked me why was I so afraid, you know what to do. That's not like you.

I told him Lucy Jones from Cal Tech said not to get in door jambs anymore, the LA Times article said so, last week. (At least I'm respectful of science.)

No, he said, after he calmed me, that's stupid. Look at this strength, as he pounds on the door jambs.

I looked. He was right. It is the strongest place in the house!

So is the place under the stairs. It's the strongest place in the house!

I hate the media. It's my fault. I should have checked it out myself.

I finished those fab pillows and am still waiting for the press pass into the Clinton pacs or some fab media group for Denver.

Oh. And the pillows? They really are California pillows. They're a screen print of a stylized map of Southern California featuring our favorite places ala the famous New Yorker Manhattan cover but using Santa Monica, Laguna, Riverside, Temecula, Orange County, San Diego. It's perfect for California dreaming and remembering! I have to laugh considering our temblors today.

It shows us, among other things, that there are lots of things that are not under our control.

Thanks for the read.

Football Stadium?! My, my. What a big ego you have, Senator Obama!

I don't know who's more obnoxious: Obama planning his convention speech in a football stadium or Ringo Starr imagining that all of us are breathlessly awaiting the moment we can celebrate his birthday by simultaneously thinking, whispering or passing wind which sounds like "peace".

What is it with these people and their insatiable adoration appetites?

All this jumping the gun by our newbies friends in the changing Democratic Party is proving to be a bit tedious for this small d democrat, for whom a little pageantry goes a long way, especially when it revolves around a lone figure like the two-year wonder Obama.

What's next? Spectacular parades of people holding candles with all the lights out, Barack? We've got your cameras rolling for history, Barack. Just remember to look noble and statesmanlike.

It gives me the creeps. But then, I never really had idols. When all my girlfriends were going gaga for rock bands and singing stars, I thought it was stupid. I still do.

I always thought that whole idea of worshiping another person was goofy. I could never get past the imagery of their using a bathroom or clipping their toenails.

It's just who I am, I guess. No one really impresses me, except for Christ, of course...and my dad and mother. And they just scared the hell out of me.

*shrug*

I think most thinking Americans--not kids--don't like this king stuff really, especially during conventions and political functions. Lots of Americans, particularly we stupid ones who cling to our guns and bibles, we swing staters and us hard-to-read Westerners don't like big old horsey events that look like coronations and end up embarrassing the stones out of us. We're kind of self-conscious and we always end up taking our shoes off anyway, so what's up with this, Barack? Stop already.

One guy, all this hoopla in a stadium? That's too weird, Dude. Don't get too English, or European, especially German, or Evangelical on us. Or even try to disguise it as a gospel deal or a new black deal or a Motown deal or, as I suspect some black sports deal to get all the white guys to like you. That's pushing it to a new level that some people might really resent because it's pandering.

(Then you're speaking in front of the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin? Oh come now. You can do better than, Barack. Too bad you've not cleared your foray into German with its Chancellor. You are a nervy little person. Why not go straight to The White House; demand that George Bush get the heck out of your office and sit down and just get to work? Why wait for a vote? What war? Oh, you mean the one we're winning that you said was a disaster, Barack?)

I can tell the Dems right now that if this is their kind of change, like the quick change that we just saw in Denver when the woman who contracted with the city to sing the National Anthem burst forth instead with her own version of the "Black" National Anthem...it's probably not going to fly with most Americans.

Does anyone know if she got paid? If so, the taxpayers got it the backside again because I'll bet anything she was contracted to sing The National Anthem, not to express herself. If the city controller cuts her a check, every Denverian should be outside City Hall screaming for his job. But if Denver wants it that way, they deserve to pay the taxes for it. There will be many more oportunities if this was any indication of how things will "change."

Such repressed anger and self-expression from Obama's fans will provide plenty of fuel for Obama's ego state, which will only grow in time as it is fed by those around him as well.

As I've stated before, he' a Leo, like me. It takes one to know one. This will be good.

Thanks for the read.