Another...1 a.m. in Paradise

Good Morning, Friends. I *did* take my Minute photo today, but the laptop is in computer ICU right now (waiting for a new fan), and the desktop doesn't, at this time, do anything but give me internet access. That is, I can't open Photoshop. It is slated for the Computer Physician next.

Geez, my computers are like pets that I have to keep taking to the vet, to get shots, and ridden of viruses and such.

Speaking of pets (note smooth segue here), my little Minxy got out of the house Friday night, while I was grilling chicken. She'd been content, an indoor cat, until spring arrived. Now she does whatever she can possibly think of to get past me. She's most effective as "BulletCat", flying past me at the speed of light as I open the door to bring in groceries.

Friday night, she held back while I worked outside, waiting until my hands were full of a tray of hot chicken, and tongs and other grilling accessories. Barely able to turn the doorknob, she knew I 'd never catch her and drag her fuzzy butt back into the house. She was out of there like a shot.

...and back under my bedroom window, mewling, at 1:00 a.m. Tempted as I was to leave her out, I still trudged out of bed, and through the dark house, sans glasses or contact lenses to let her in. I called for her once, and she did not come in. It's pitch black out there, and I can't see 2 inches in front of my face without corrective lenses, and so could not tell if she planned on coming in or not. But finally, she flew past me back into the house.

Happy she was to be here, she ran right in and grabbed her favorite beanie baby, and began tossing it around the living room.

She loves those beanie babies. She has no idea we're collecting them for Iraqi children; she actually thinks that each and every one of them are hers, and she drags them out of the box and around the house constantly.

God, she was happy to be back in the house, with her beanie baby. Tackling and tossing the thing high into the air, and pouncing and throwing it.

Though she loves those toys, I'd never seen her *quite* so excited about them; she must have been cold and bored out there, in the back yard, eh?

And, I wondered, which beanie baby is that she's so darned fond of right now? Seriously. She's having a blast.

I flipped the light on for a second, but couldn't see without my glasses. Well, forget it, who cares? Oh, fine, I'll get my glasses and check it out. I padded back to the nightstand, grabbed my specs, and then back out the living room, where I flipped the light back on again.

Feathers.

My entire living room was covered with feathers.

My entire living room was covered with feathers, and Minx was still gleefully tossing a bird into the air, catching it, sommersaulting over the carpet, shaking it in her mouth, running away from it, and pouncing on it again, creating more flying feathers.

As I recall, my screaming commenced immediately.

I set about screeching and simultaneously chasing and running away from the cat, not knowing if the bird was yet dead, and if it would flap around and peck me to death.

Luckily, I guess, the poor little thing was el-dead-o. I had only to put 85 grocery sacks on my hands, and pick the thing up and dispose of it. One of those rare moments when I think "Aurgh, my kingdom for a husband that I could awaken to take care of this chore because I am entirely too Prim and Princessy."

You know, you have ideas about what you think your life is going to be like when you enter certain stages. No kids in the house! A little transition, a wide-open road, the entire world a possible new adventure!

Those things are true, for me, I guess.

I just never had any idea that my empty nest would actually contain real, albeit dead, birds, and a vacuum sweeper full of feathers.

This ride is never boring.