Not Brubeck, now that he has gone on, but in reference to the season here in Ohio, I used blues instead of jazz. I am actually listening to the Dave Brubeck Quartet while I type this shtick. It is snowing. I am in Ohio. I have the blues.

I am convinced that about 75 percent of my clinical depression, MDD, or whatever you want to call it, is due to Ohio and its attendant weather. I became a full-fledged California guy in my thirty years there. Just as soon as my lottery numbers match up I will start packing. There really is no reason since Mom died for me to remain in this miserable place. I have to hang up the golf bag in October. I have to buy salt for the steps. I have to run up my heart rate with a damned snow shovel. I have to own sweaters, LL Bean triple-insulated coats, leather jackets, boots that are not for horseback, and worst of all - wool caps and gloves!

No wonder the pioneers moved west. They were trying to get away from lake effect snow squalls, or mosquito swarms, or the Republicans down in the state capitol.

My cat companions will enjoy it NOT. The trek to Monterey will take at least three days. They will have to endure the ride in a custom-fabricated wire kennel filling the back of my huge GM Denali or Ford Exploder. I will have to stop a couple times a day to refresh their litter, water and food. I will look for a Red Roof Inn about halfway to the coast so I can get a few hours of sleep, a shower and some wireless time. I did that on the way here seven years ago.

There are enough fast food drive-thru restaurants along I-80 to keep me alive with burgers and coffee.

Oh yes. They have bathrooms, too.

No litter box for me.