The good news is that my retinas are okay. The bad news? None really; my vision is stable for the second year in a row and my eyes are fine. I'll call that a win in just about any playbook.

I had a scary incident a few weeks ago. The vision in the central portion of my right eye blurred and began to do what I can only describe as 'sparkle.' There was no pain and no other change, just an area the shape of a crescent moon in my central field of vision that was strangely prismatic.

It went away that same afternoon. Geof was right to question my blood pressure -- low as usual -- and there were no side effects.

I was glad to confirm that all was well. Ever since my mother had her cornea transplant thanks to Fuchs' dystrophy, I've been more aware than usual of how fragile my sense of sight is, and how lost I would be without it.

So. Righty-roo. The rest of this week is shaping up to be a series of potentially-classic days; the kind that give you endless amounts of material to write about.

The plan: go by the vet's tomorrow. Pick up sedatives for darling kitties, numbers one and two. It's time for their yearly rabies shots, and given the fang-and-claw showcase that was last year's vaccinations, I think it's safe to say that I'm not bringing the little darlings within ten feet of a needle without giving them some serious happy drugs.