Just finished checking the magnitude of tonight's little tremblor. 3.9. A real jolter, too. I was in, of all places, the elevator of the building I guard, doing rounds on the floors. I distinctly recall saying that an elevator cab should not make such noises. But in the end, it's nothing big, quake-wise. I've seen a seven, two sixes, and a handful of fives. When your first earthquake is the Loma Prieta, 7.1, and you are 50 miles from the epicenter, after that, I remember eating breakfast through one of those sixes, the Landers. I really have to watch myself, come to think of it. Wherever I've lived, I've managed to be around for a major natural disaster. I slept through most of Hurricane Alicia, when it hit Houston, my birth city. And where I've shifted within California, large earthquakes tend to follow. Now, I'm moving into another earthquake zone, with a honking big volcano right next door. Remind me never to live in Malibu, where you can manage a menu of disasters, including quakes, landslides and brush fires. You may think me guilty of believing myself sole responsible for this coincidental chain of events, but when you've has as surreal as life as I've had, you tend believe just about anything is possible, if it will happen to you.