(Our family is on a five month RV trip. We are journeying West from Dallas, TX and making our way up the Western coastline finishing in Washington state before we streamline our way back to CO for the summer.)

Malibu, CA: The city on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Malibu RV Park: A higher cliff overlooking the city that overlooks the Pacific Ocean.

Our rig at the Malibu RV Park on a cliff

Oh yeah, there are gorgeous views to enjoy if your brain ever relaxes from the imminent danger of sliding or shaking off the cliff. Before we ever left Dallas in mid-January, I had a dream (nightmare) that an earthquake tore most of California’s coastline away from the continent and our RV slid into the ocean. I’m not prophetic and I’m not a Nervous-Nelly, but this “dreamare” nagged at me.

So when we awoke on the second morning to what felt like an Alaskan black bear vigorously shaking our rig to empty it of its contents, I was alarmed. I nearly threw John out the front door in his underwear to assess the situation. Within seconds of realizing that the skies were calm, and hungry, wild animals weren’t attacking, it hit me. An earthquake!

I’d never before experienced the earth quaking beneath me. I didn’t want to ever again. I clamored for idevices checking reliable sources on Twitter and Facebook for confirmation that we were about to pull away from the continent and be dumped into the ocean. Yes, it was a quake and media outlets deemed it a potential ‘fore’ quake to the BIG one California expects at any time. My nightmarish dream was coming true.

I was ready to pull in the slides, bug off of this cliff, and drive out of this state. Pronto. John got ready for work as usual and kissed me goodbye. I bade him what may have been a final farewell. He did not appreciate my drama or my old English. Men.

I figured if the whole state of California unleashed itself from the mainland and we stayed in tact, floating around the Pacific Ocean awaiting rescue, I might as well get my eyebrows dyed for the event. This scenario could elicit quite a media storm and fair-skinned blondes without eyebrows don’t get much air time.

More alarming was that my much-anticipated Beverly Hills hair appointment was just two days away. Cali, could we possibly keep it together for a few more days? This 8.8 quake wasn’t deterring my meeting with the miracle worker (ok, so I exaggerate a bit. It’s a cut and color but to me, a good stylist can perform miracles. And, for the record, the quake measured 4.4 but I’ve never seen Richter cut and color. Not sure I trust his judgment).

By the sheer grace and mercy of our God in heaven, we survived the earthquake and I managed to duck the paparazzi clawing to get photos of my latest hairstyle. Yes, it was fabulous. I am living in an RV in a state on the verge of catastrophe. But today, I strutted down Rodeo drive feeling much more like a 10.0 on the Richter scale. Miracle indeed.

As the ‘fore’quake warnings lessened, I felt more comfortable to take my kids and go in search of things in life that mattered. Like the Santa Monica pier and Third Street Promenade, Venice Beach and fresh seafood, farming communities and micro-brews in Oxnard. Yes, I finally got centered.

How true this sign is…the END of the TRAIL!

Santa Monica Pier

Venice Beach

Pacific Coast Highway views driving toward Oxnard

Trying to convince this seagull to come live on my pond in Steamboat

A couple of nights before we left Malibu, a family on Spring Break pulled their fifth-wheel into the site next to us on the cliff. We exchanged stories and the man told us about his tire blowout on the road the previous day. He walked John around his rig showing him the electrical damage it did to the undercarriage when the tire shreds yanked out most of his wiring on one side of his rig.

The family was okay and repairs were swift but he and John continued discussing the myriad of things that can go wrong while pulling a house down the road. They swapped road safety tips. I couldn’t help but think if the BIG quake hits, there won’t be a road anyway. I filed this information away in my mind.

With that, we hitched up our house, drug it off of the cliff, and hit the road again. We are staying in California but heading inland to Yosemite National Park. Can my heart recover from all the stress? Oh how I hope they serve up things in life that matter there. I may need happy hour centering.

Next stop: Yosemite