3:41 a.m. Let me just say, for the record, that there's been a BIG earthquake somewhere near here. We were awakened, ran, and I'm still shaking. First thing I did was grab The Head and hold it, along with the steel banister, while the whole house rolled and groaned gently.

This one took a long time. The only info I can get so far is on a map and I've logged in a report. I am a wreck.

It looks like a 6.6 at Joshua Tree, and so far 255 different zip codes have reported in. Where is the news? There are helicopters and the power is fluctuating. Gaaaaa. Like, I'm really going to go back to sleep now.

OK. I'm not crazy ... it was a 7.0 or so, and it was an aftershock of the Landers earthquake. My. Over a minute of rolling. My heart, I tell you. It's finally on CNN online. I hate to say it, but I've had to turn on the radio. The radio!

And I swear I saw two blue transformers go, but maybe it was the loud party going on across the street.

4:01. Now, it's the Hector Quake, not an aftershock. Transformer fires in San Pedro, ships torn from moorings. An Amtrak derailment. Big fires in the Barstow area. Like I'm really going to bed.

A possible separation of the 118 where it meets the 5. What does that mean?

4:17. My clocks are a little fast. But at least we have power and cable. I'm listening to the shocked voices of people nearer to the center and my heart is hurting for them. I moved like a robot to The Head, which was perched on a tall bookcase, and grabbed it and held it. Sentimental crockery is so difficult to maintain in this state. I certainly didn't think about turning off the gas.

I am listening to KFI? AM Los Angeles. Now I wish I'd taken a screen grab of the map, because it does change every five minutes. It's filling up fast.

When I first got the map from Dogpile, it was all gray, with the one little star ... the colored squares show intensity.

4:35. Now the radio reports are calming down, and in a half hour the alarm is going to ring, and we're supposed to be getting up and getting dressed. I wonder if the trip is still on.

4:43. The TV stations finally woke up and got on the air, including my favorite part -- the unshaven, mussed-hair guy on Channel 5. I could almost go to bed now, if I didn't have to get up.

Here's another map:

4:56. Red is recent aftershock activity. Size of square indicates magnitude. The big blue one is the one that woke me up. And now, if we're going to be traveling all day, let me tell you -- I'm really going to be tired. And if this thing were any where nearer, I'd never be able to use my cable modem, I'm learning. Seems cable is very fragile.

5:23. Hi Sue! I just got an email from Sue Deutscher, of Message in a Bottle. She's also up. People care! Awww, gosh. (Birthday present is safe and secure, too.)

Dr. Lucy Jones! Cal Tec. She's on the TV. Everyone loves her, and she's got a little pimple eruption on her chin. Oddly, what everyone on the radio is laughing about is the train derailment outside of Barstow. It seems that an awful lot of people from Chicago are now being herded onto buses for the world's most boring ride into Los Angeles. If you've ever been to Barstow ... if you're from Chicago ... you'd be laughing, too.