Now. You know I am trying to get my 15 minutes of Florida sunshine these days, to boost my Vitamin D absorption. This is easier said than done...as is everything with KEM. Back in the pleasant days, before I knew of the D Deficiency, my sister said, Anyone living in Florida cannot help but get enough sun. Meet KEM. I live in my house, which happens to be in Florida. I am a hermit. When my sister said that, I assumed the amount of sun filtering into the house or car was going to do it for me. But of course it did not. Here I am, a resident of a state and city that are peninsulas, sunshine galore for the taking, and I never even get to the beach except the week after Christmas when my sister visits. And I get there once, just to be sociable. Let's face it, I do not DESERVE to live in Florida.

Now. Today I read that 8 out of 10 Americans have low Vitamin D levels. This means, dear blogee, you very well may be one of them. Then I read on Debra Lynn Dadd's site (she is the green lady, expert in all things chemical-free) an interesting discussion on...our favorite buddy Vitamin D. The best kinds of Vit D, the best tests to see where you're at (throwing in some good English here) and what to tell your doctor. HA! I don't have the nerve to tell my doctor anything, unless he asks. Oh, Doctor, did you know I need this other blood test for my levels and not the standard one? Fortunately, I have a wonderful doctor who is a gentleman and might just tolerate such insubordination. But I guess docs don't know everything. My grandfather held the opinion that if a doctor told me my head was on backwards and needed to be chopped off and turned around, I'd say, Why, sure, go right ahead.

Which is to say, I guess if your intuition is telling you to challenge, or at least suggest, to your doctor that you are worried about overdosing the dear good vitamins, then go ahead and spit it out (throwing in a little elegance here).

So, all that to get to the punch line. As many of you know, I am nocturnal. Which means by the time I roll out of bed and do my little afternoon routine and it's finally time to bask in the sun for 15 minutes, the sun is about to go sleepy-bye, especially since the time change, the time change doesn't suit me AT ALL. In the late afternoon I have found a 2 x 2 square of sunshine right by my front door, but today I was so late, even that speck had been swallowed up in shadows.

So, being resourceful (and desperate), I dragged my moldy white plastic chair (which I'm leaving by the curb in hopes someone will swipe it), Jazzi on a leash, Robby dangling from my arm and my cell phone in my hand (so I can register the 15 minutes and call my sister) to the neighbor's driveway, which had that elusive patch of sunshine. After getting situated, which took some doing -- getting the best angle for the sun, getting Jazzi's leash pinned under the chair leg, squeezing a squirming cat and concentrating on not dropping the cell phone (my specialty), I finally plopped down in the Moldy White Plastic Chair (not as appealing sounding as the great children's book, Lily's Purple Plastic Purse).

And what to my wondering eyes should appear, when I glanced down at the grass at my feet?

Either a VERY LARGE mouse or a rather smallish rat. A mouse/rat that had seen better days. A non-living mouse/rat. A mouse/rat that has become a feast for flies. A mouse/rat basking in the waning sun, but hardly able to enjoy it. I wonder if he was short of Vitamin D and had the same idea I did, but was too late and merely collapsed in valiant effort, too exhausted from the sunshine search, his last drop of vitamin D used up, forevermore (getting a little absurd here).

Now. It took a while but Robby finally looked down and spotted it (I think Robby is too intrigued by the outdoors in general to be rat-specific at this time). He did a little start. I have to say, that Robby is a doll. You know he wants to jump down and run in the worst way; he sits and stares out the French windows ev-e-ry day (I should fashion that into a poem). And even with a smokin' hot stinkin' dead rat, he was obedient and stayed put in mommy's arms. Mostly.

I'm just saying. This was a KEM ONLY. ONLY KEM could pick the last spot of sunshine in the sunshine city (St. Petersburg's official nickname) and about sit on top of a dead rat, all the while juggling the aforementioned items and people. Getting my Vitamin D is a dangerous risky enterprise. Who would have thunk?

On to lighter fare. Tonight I was practicing, and Robby just loves to stare behind the music rack and watch the hammers move, I've told you this. I wish my former piano pupils had been so rapt. Well, he was curled up in the corner, on the treble keys, and had his little face peering through the music rack. It was way too adorable, and I was forced to pull a "miracle." I grabbed my cell phone and SOMEHOW took a picture. I've never taken a cell phone picture before. Only by accident.

But desperation is truly the mother of resourcefulness (see above), because I quickly started pressing buttons, any old buttons, until I was told I could take and save a picture. Robby, hang on, don't move! I took two, because, I'm telling you, I'm sending it into the newspaper where every Wednesday they print these adorable pet pictures, with captions. The newspaper asks for submissions, If your pet is being cute... Oh boy, Robby Cute Mader is going to have his 15 minutes of fame if his mommy has anything to say about it. What could my caption be? Robby...an American Rachmaninoff. Cat bears resemblance to Chopin...check out the profile.

Umm...maybe you all should help me out here. Clever captions, anyone?

Sharing the last slice of sunshine with a smouldering ratty mouse,
KEM P.S. Mike and I don't agree on the use of cloth placemats. He says they are for spilling on. I say they are for trying NOT to spill on.