Transition

I keep hearing Clark Gable utter that line to Vivien Leigh in "Gone With the Wind" about having their daughter's "little duds packed." Maybe it's because we spent part of Friday night getting Taz ready for the trip to her new home on Saturday.

Her proverbial duds are packed. We are missing her already.

I spent almost 30 minutes on the phone with Taz's future mama on Thursday. She sounds like such a wonderful lady. When we touched briefly on her recently departed cat, she started to cry. Between that -- and the fact that she has been making preparations for Taz's arrival, including taking days off next week -- it has made me feel like this is definitely the right thing. I don't think Taz could have a better home even if she stayed here.

The mother is frantic. She's innately tightly wound and sensitive and this is going to be tougher for her than it is for me. And it's tough for me. Much tougher than I thought it was going to be. Now, before I start to cry ...

Ozzie spent the afternoon resting and spent the bulk of the day recuperating. (And most of that attached to my hip as I tried to do things with the computer.) During the evening, he sprang back into life. Thank God! So thank you for all the well wishes. They seemed to have worked.

More hockey pictures when I get a few minutes. I'm stunned by how many of them actually turned out well. The quandary now is which version to use of the ones where I seem to have the same shot over and over and over.