We live in an earthquake zone. Scientists tell us that "The Big One" is not a question of "IF," but "WHEN." Maybe within the next half hour. Or maybe not even in our lifetime.
In any case, this week we got serious about our Earthquake Preparedness Kit. It's one of those things you always mean to get around to, but don't. 2020 has already thrown us a few surprises, we had finished watching "The Queen's Gambit," and already filled the salt and pepper shakers, so we figured, now's the time.
Step One: What to include in your kit. Check getprepared.gc.ca — Canada's Emergency Preparedness Guide. On the web site you will find the definitive list of all the items you might need to keep yourself going for six days, on your own, in case of a calamitous situation. And not only do you need to keep supplies around your house, you should also carry some in the car, and pack a GO Bag if you ever have to flee at a moment's notice — the idea being that you can locate all your survival gear in one place without having to panic. (As if!)
Step two: Assemble your items. Now, when I think of a "kit", I imagine a jaunty rucksack that I can throw nonchalantly over my shoulder singing, "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, and smile, smile, smile," or, "I love to go a-wandering, my knapsack on my back. Val-de-ri, Val-de-ra!" The web site illustration perpetuates this notion. One photo shows a compact, soft-sided tote bag neatly packed with a First Aid kit, a blanket, water bottle, etc. — these items poking coyly out the top.
Okay. Easy-peasy. We set about gathering things for our kit. It's quite a lot of stuff! It didn't take long to discover that NO tote bag smaller than a Mini Cooper is going to be big enough to hold all it. The web site LIES!
So, we reassessed our storage needs and back to Home Depot the Mr. went to get those giant plastic bins and a unit of heavy-duty, industrial-strength shelving for the garage. We now have three jumbo crates stuffed to the lids with emergency blankets, first aid supples, candles, TP, paper towels, canned goods, personal toiletries, camp stove, fuel canisters, matches, hand-crank NOAA radio, water purification tablets, rain ponchos, tarpaulin, dried consumables, disinfectant wipes, hand sanitizer, work gloves, Nitrile gloves, tools, tea, tea pot, utensils, picnic dishes, rope, duct tape, whistle, flashlights, batteries, lanterns, soup pot, knives, wine (we are not Barbarians) and whatever else is on the list. Oh, yeah, gallons and gallons of water, sleeping bags, and folding chairs.
Six days of survival gear for two. Our bins are mammoth and they weigh a ton! Not exactly portable. The Mr needed a chiropractor after heaving them around.
But, now, we are feeling smug. If our house collapses, we can camp out in the garage. We'll warm up Campbell's Chunky over a lit can of Sterno, (which would take hours, by the way), open a bottle of Cabernet, and huddle over the camp stove sitting in our stadium chairs atop the rubble that was once our house.
But wait! What if we aren't at home when the quake hits? What then? Well, proceed to Step Three.
Step Three: Prepare a kit for your car. For your average on-the-go crisis, repeat all of Step 2 in a scaled-down, more manageable format. Add flares and jumper cables. The trunk in the Subaru is now full. I mean it. FULL.
Step Four: Pack a GO Bag. In the event that we need to vamoose, this is what the GO Bag is all about. Again, the web site provides helpful graphics, such as the one that shows a drawing of a cute, compact, school-style knapsack, with a flashlight, NOAA radio, phone charger, batteries, granola bars, water, personal toiletries, OTC meds and prescriptions, change of clothing for two different seasons, undies, socks, pjs, slippers, extra shoes, rain jacket, warm sweater, cash, and insurance papers.
Can you guess what happens when you collect all your on-the-lam essentials in one place? Yup! We crammed three, way-too-heavy suitcases to bursting. "GO" bags? Hardly! More like "Hire a Pack Mule" bags.
And go where? Why, the high school caf-a-gym-a-torium emergency shelter, of course!
I was selecting items for my GO bag from out of my "Destined for the Goodwill" pile, thinking, "Why am I packing this crummy stuff? Wouldn't I miss my favourite sweaters if I were never to see them again? Do I really want to check into the shelter wearing tired yoga pants, a souvenir T-shirt from "The Lion King," novelty neon-pink socks with "Girl Power" written on them that someone sent as a gag gift, and a pair of Nikes with holes in the toes? What if CBC TV Six O'clock News came to interview us? I'd hate not to look my best, as I'm sobbing, 'Our house just slid into the sea! Last we saw it, it was on its way to Vancouver!'"
Step 5: Rethink the GO bag with at least a shred of fashion sense. Don't forget the lipstick. If you can find room in the kit.
Now that we're as prepared as Boy/Girl Scouts, I hope we're not tempting fate! Wish us luck!
