Caps Lock Restraint In Action

Ok, so this gas situation...is out of control. I understand all the oil rigs are shut down due to Katrina. I understand that New Orleans is a major port for foreign imports. I also understand that what gas stations pay for gas and what we pay for gas are two different things. So, are the gas stations making an even larger profit due to one of the largest disasters in the U.S. in recent years, and they have an excuse we can't really question because you know, didn't you hear the news, HALF THE SOUTH IS UNDERWATER? Please, please tell me that the margin between wholesale and retail prices isn't increasing as costs increase. That's all I ask. I can' t even imagine what Californians (of which I am not) are paying. Or maybe it's less since they may have different suppliers for the west coast versus the east coast (where I am). Question for the day.

And now, on a happier note- My sore throat is gone. You didn't know I had one, but I did, and it's gone. Unfortunately, in its wake it left a cough and a little groggy feeling, but hey, at least today I feel a different kind of bad! Yay! Obviously, the sarcasm is still intact.

The real happy note is...wait for it, wait for it....dum dum da dum...I got kittens! Two- a brother and sister, who are still just babies, only 3 weeks old. The girl is an orange tabby named Hobbes, and the boy is all black, named Calvin. And trust me, the names fit. You know how in the cartoon Calvin and Hobbes, Hobbes has a sneaky habit of tackling Calvin when he comes in the door, or gets out of bed, or eats, or really anytime? That's my cats. They set up somewhere, on pillows, the back of the couch, and tackle one another, and then roll across the floor, tangled up, hollering 'cause it hurts. And then come back for more. If they are not sleeping, or eating, they're wrestling. Or fighting my hair.

They eat on their own, but they're high maintenance and need special kitten milk (read: not cheap) which can't be left out, so I might as well have kids. I'm going home every day at lunch to feed them. And I learned the hard way Sunday night that it's best to feed them little bits at a time. Calvin, crazy that he is, is apparently like most males, and doesn't stop eating as long as there is food on the plate. Sunday night, I was sitting on my living room floor with my friend, CB and both cats, Calvin asleep on me and Hobbes asleep on her, watching the VMAs. All the sudden Calvin sits up, turns to the side and projectile vomits across the room. No, I'm SERIOUS. It was like a fountain of kitten milk spouting across the living room. And then there was a second round about 30 seconds later. All I could say was "OH MY GOD" in varying volumes, and CB thought I was talking about something on TV and didn't even turn to look until the second time, when the horror actually made it into my voice. Poor thing, Calvin. He didn't even know what hit him. And I felt like a bad mom for the rest of the night, and he just felt pitiful. I was afraid I'd killed the cat the first day and all I did was feed it. Too much, yes, but just feed it. Thankfully (well depends on how you look at it), he woke up at 6 am ready to roughhouse and eat again. So all is good. But I now have experienced a little bit of true parent world, with the vomit and poop incidents and scary things being expelled from your child's body. The stories are enough to make me seriously consider remaining childless.

Be prepared for more cat stories. I live by myself and they're all I have. I'm going to become the crazy cat lady. Don't think they're not traveling with me. At least for a little while. Give me a break, I'm prematurely geriatric.

Twinkle, twinkle, baby, twinkle, twinkle.