So, I was thinking, as I drove the 25 minutes to work today, that I just might want to move back to my home town in the Midwest, get a job at the local hospital and retire there. I would be closer to my children and grand children. I would be able to spend holidays and birthdays and babysit them for occasional Parent's Night Out activities. It was a wonderful 5 minutes of contemplation, until I remembered what actually HAPPENS in the Midwest, especially during the winter.  (You must understand, before I go any further, that I live in southern California. REAL SOUTHERN. I can spit and hit Tijuana).
 I spent the majority of my early adult life above the 45th Parallel. This meant months of no sun. dreary, bleak months that dragged on from one ice storm to the other with occasional breaches of daylight. Grey was the NEW white. If you could see the car in front of you at 25 miles an hour it was a good day for a drive. My little 25 minute drive to work here would be an all day ordeal back there. I remembered the tale of Melissa who was scheduled to work at 8 AM. As she told it, the snow plow had made its singular path down her road early in the morning before what was considered a sunrise there. Her thoughts were that by daylight she could examine the conditions and make a sound estimation of the roadway. What she did not consider was the  angle of her driveway. I've been to Melissa's house and it is no easy feat to navigate its steep path to the roadway above. So, eager to make it to work on time and with no more brains than the cold cup of coffee in the Marathon gas travel mug sitting on the counter, forgotten, she slid into her mukluk boots, donned her winter parka with its fur lined hood,which she secured snugly around her neck with a home made scarf knitted by grandma some years ago and trudged to the cold dark garage.

The garage door was frozen fast to the cement floor, its rubber glistening in the stark blue light of the one overhead neon lamp. Several tugs at the handle proved the door would not budge. Oh help us, an idea was forming in her blond, empty little head. Into the car she dove, settled herself securely into the seat belt and inserted the key into the ignition. I haven't a clue why this seemed a reasonable idea for her, but she turned the key, slid the car into reverse gunned the gas. As she told it, she was just going to nudge the door a bit. You know, just a little jiggle to get it loose from the ice. In reality what ensued had to be the most hilarious sight so far! Melissa rocketed out of the garage, ripping the door completely off its track and onto the snow of the driveway. This was not the end. With Grandma's scarf tied tight around her neck the only thing she saw when looking backwards was the passenger side door and the landscape careening past the window. The car shot out of the garage, over the garage door, down the now snow covered drive way and up over the first snowbank made by the previous plow. AH! job well done! except for the slight misjudgment made when applying the brakes.  It is a very helpless feeling, when applying the braking system, you realize that the car simply won't stop. It careened gracefully up over the raised roadway and down the other side. Melissa found herself gazing up at an awkward angle into the morning sky with no roadway in sight, the car buried up to its back doors in the snow.
Now why do I bring up this uncomfortable memory? For the very reason why I live in Southern California.  Who IN THEIR RIGHT MIND would live in weather conditions that are not conducive to shorts, flip flops and a beach towel?  Like I said right off, it was a wonderful 5 minutes of contemplation, followed by 20 minutes of WHAT WAS I THINKING!!!

Morning All !
OneEye's surgery went well. She has a slightly deformed eye lid now but can focus both eyes and they are bright and clear!  We did the full week of antibiotics and eye drops for all three kittens with no complications. They lived in the bathroom and loved the little "bomb shelter" hole under the towel cabinet to play in and hide. Bathing them was no torment. They seemed to like the water. Momma Spike would stand at the door of the kitchen and look in, with her crossed eyes and that long white slash of white hair in between. I never know if its just the slightly off center placing of her white stripe or if she is actually cross eyed. You look at her straight on and you want to lean to the left somehow.

She has taken to wandering into the house in the morning. Big Daddy Popeye has ventured through the cat door once, but prefers to just look in and glare at us. Almost as if to say " FEED ME, asshole!" Her sibling, Boots, comes in also but does not stay beyond a curious look around the kitchen door at the group here in the living room.

Oprah has gone. I noticed a definite sense of curious adventure crop up since then. this wandering thing only started after she left. Was she telling them stories about the evil big people that lived in the house? Do cats communicate the way people do? What would they say about us in general? Are we really a group of ignorant slobs? Are THEY really THAT arrogantly stand-off-ish? Cats are so weird!

Surgery day for One-Eyed Hooker

Little One-Eye goes in today for a small surgery to open her eye. I haven't fed them yet because of it and they look at me so longingly.  Well, except for Jackson, who glares and Meows as best he can with his little undeveloped squeaker of a voice.  Ringer has gotten quite ski-dish since being to the doctor. I do not think she likes all this attention. She hasn't gotten a bath yet, so I have  that to look forward to tonight. They are so thin it is scary. Having gone through a traumatic time with Betty, I worry so about Jackson and One-Eye. They aren't wormed yet so if this eye/respiratory thing clears up that will be the next major event in their lives.
The indoor/outdoor house cats have adapted to the new foundlings. They wander in and out through the back door now that the kittens are on the back porch and NOT right there next to their entrance.  Momma Spike hovers around the cage and the two other kittens sleep next to it.  Five more days of medicine and they will be able to run free again.
Oprah has not come home. I fear the worse.