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Sword and Laser was having a contest for who could make up the best first line for a science fiction or fantasy story. I’m not much of a contest guy, but was inspired to make up a few on my own.

1. The sky, in fact, was the limit.
2. It was a good date, even with the burned out transistors.
3. They were not his keys.
4. My brother turned to smoke and receded into the vent with my $20.
5. It wasn’t a new car, but there was no reason for all the dashboard lights to begin flashing in unison.
6. There was a reason the TARDIS had only one seat belt.
7. Backing away from the sink, Jim realized not only had he forgotten his cat’s name, he’d forgotten having a cat altogether.
8. I closed the door and went to wishing I could see her one more time to praying I’d never see her again.
9. Looking at the severed thumb, Jack wondered why there was no pain.
10. “So much for the steamships,” she sighed.
11. Who would have guessed a tomb could be so comfortable?
12. He threw the big yellow switch, but it was far too late.
13. I should not have been able to hear a pin drop.
14. All the billboards were different on my drive home.
15. The knobs and dials made as much sense as baby toys.
16. David glared at his younger self through the rifle’s scope.
17. Scott’s “To Do” and “Really Did” lists were not similar in any fashion.
18. I leveled my pistol at David Bowie’s head and ordered him to pick up every last fucking quarter.
19. John’s punishment was to count everything.
20. Steve could not find his pants, his wallet, or much of his memory of the previous night.
21. Looking back, I really should have questioned what a woman like that would see in a guy like me.
22. Jason grabbed second gear and disappeared.
23. As the last one out, it was my job to shut off the lights.
24. The phone rang and Alan’s extensive knowledge of Doctor Who trivia became instantly valuable.
25. I could swear the die teetered on twenty before falling through the vent.
26. Snapping Harry Potter’s wand in half, I turned directly to Brett Michaels and asked, “Who’s next?”
27. A guy who looked just like Ron Jeremy tailgated me all the way home with his battered S-10.
28. Somehow, Roger was the one who wound up inside the cage.
29. He could never get over just how moist time travel could be.

We had an earthquake the other morning. That’s not quite right. “We had an earthquake” sounds like “We rented 13 Going on 30″. Rather, the crust of the planet itself trembled several hundred miles away and we had very little to do with it at all.

So, we had an earthquake the other morning. My wife and I were lying in bed in those quiet few minutes after the alarm sounds. It was about twenty-five minutes of six. We do this every day, I think. The alarm sounds — a puny watch alarm, actually, as we have avoided a real alarm since the baby — and we lie there for a few minutes in silence. Sometimes we are both asleep, sometimes awake, mostly somewhere in between. It’s an odd in-between time as we move from the luxury of rest into the real world.

Even the dogs don’t want to get up.

But this particular morning, I felt the bed shaking. I tried to disregard it. This is Ohio. Maybe I was just having a seizure. Or maybe it was windy. But the slow back and forth rhythm became undeniable. An antique lamp on the dresser began to rattle the way old glass things do, reminding us that even ignored things are fragile.

Earthquake, I thought. And I have to admit the idea excited me a bit. It is Ohio, after all. But then I considered that the tremble might have been the remnant of California falling into the ocean. I found this a little less exciting. I tried to think about how humbling such an event is. How we are at the mercy of Big Things like tectonic plates and wandering comets. Then it was time to get up.

The earthquake was a five-point-nothing in Illinois, but the local news was geeked up. They were on the phone (*live*) with a witness who had felt the ground shake in Kentucky. The witness seemed a unimpressed by the whole event, much to the chagrin of the anchor. As he threw us to commercial, the anchor said after the break we would hear the forecast “for the city that was just rocked by an earthquake!” I guess that’s why he’s still the morning anchor. That and his giant ears.

So much for humility and awe at the universe.

And that’s my Cincinnati earthquake story.

An observation: perspective changes everything.

I was up north packing up the old house last week. Around noon, the potential buyer was coming over to review some things with the home inspector, so I thought it prudent to remove our nutty dogs from the premises for awhile. Also, it was time for lunch and I’d already finished off the bag of double stuf (TM) minto Oreos in the pantry.

So I loaded the dogs in the car and hit the road. I had an hour to kill and figured I’d pick up some food and drive around town. They’re had been a development boom of sort since we left and I wanted to see what changed.

I was driving my wife’s SUV, a necessary departure from my more fuel efficient car. You can’t fit many boxes in a compact car. Especially with two nutty dogs. I pulled into Wendy’s, treating myself to some fast food, and then set about exploring town.

Development in Ohio follows the same rules, the same restaurants crowding along the highway so that each exit is indistinguishable from the last. I was happy to see some non-franchise establishments cropping up here and there. I was also to see a little economic development coming to the little town that had lost so much commerce to Columbus to the south.

However, I found myself driving around town in a giant SUV while shoving trans-fat laden fast food in my face. Just driving and eating with no destination, killing time and emitting carbon. I didn’t see my action for what it was until a guy pulled up next to me in a Honda Insight hybrid at a traffic light. He was a young guy, fit and environmentally responsible. I was the portrait of American waste.

I wondered for a second if the universe was in danger, as if the close proximity of light and dark forces might create a black hole or something.

The I just shrugged, killed the rest of my Diet Coke, and pulled into a gas station.

I love me some nutty weather. Often the cost is tragic, but bad weather reminds us that we are an arrogant civilization. I think we all need a slap in the face every once in awhile to keep us in our place. A slap from the cold hand of Mother Nature.

As a kid, I was always disappointed after a summer thunderstorm. I remember going outside with my dad after a particularly bad storm. I was seven or eight years old. The power was still out in the neighborhood and the intersections were flooded as the storm sewers struggled to process the deluge. The clouds parted and the sun popped back in full glory, filling the afternoon once again with wet ohio summer heat. There was a rainbow.

How lame.

I don’t much care for rainbows. It means the storm has passed. I prefer the tension before the storm, the chaotic wind of a passing weather front. A rainbow means the excitement is over. You don’t have to be afraid of the clouds. Go back to watching TV.

So we got some snow last weekend. Quite a bit of snow, actually. They call it a “blizzard”. This is something. Although local weather reporters jump all over any kind of inclement conditions, I note that they hold this word in reserve. Like if misusing the word causes the jet stream to cancel one scheduled tornado warning for your viewing area later that spring.

It’s March and we the sky just dumped more snow on us than we’ve had all year. This was unfortunate, especially for my step brother who had scheduled his out of town wedding for this weekend. Instead of celebrating with family and friends, we were stuck inside, watching the local news team dispatched to all corners of the city for an in-depth look at White Death 2008.

To children, snow means snow days and snow men and snow ball fights. As adults, we are conditioned to dislike snow days like this. Adults tend to think more in terms of longer commutes and shoveling-related coronaries. But there is a part of me that finds it all very exciting.

Here’s the thing: We have a media industry geared around self-help and control. Lose weight, find a mate, control your finances, curb your addiction. I myself spend a lot of time thinking about very geeky first world organizational problems. There’s a talk show guest and self-help section for every area. But it’s all a myth. There is no control. You can make lists and plan all you want. You may improve yourself a bit and become a little more efficient, but there is nothing in the universe that will prevent twenty inches of snow from falling on your wedding reception.

I don’t take pleasure from any of this, but I think it’s good to get a little perspective. The universe is a grand and chaotic beast. We are silly to think there’s anything we can do about it.

For the record, I spent my snow days re-reading Alas, Babylon. Maybe it’s time to make some supply lists for the next storm….

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