The kitten is feeling tons better these days. She’s like a whole new kitten – she plays, runs around, sticks her nose into everything, and tolerates being sniffed by the Boys. It’s only now that I realize how much she wasn’t acting like a kitten. She must have been feeling pretty rotten those first few days, ’cause all she did was lay around and allow me to pet her. Now, it’s amazing if I can get her to stay still long enough to be petted and kissed. My baby’s growing up!

Yesterday, I was petting and talking to her, and I thought to myself, why am I lisping at her? I mean, there’s baby talk – and you know you baby talk your pets too, so don’t look so smug – but why the hell am I going the "Ith a good baby? Ith a baby hunnnngy? Oh, yeth. Oh, yeth. Thuch a good kitty! Yeth it ith! Yeth it ith!" route? How is it that Fred and the spud can listen to me lisping like a big idiot at the kitten and not clock me over the head with a cast-iron skillet?

I could eat you in two bites

Speaking of weird quirks o’ mine, I noticed another one on my way into work yesterday. On the drive into work, there are about six traffic lights I have to negotiate before I pull into the DI parking lot. There are days when I hit every red light, and there are days when every light I approach is green, and of course there are days with some greens and some reds. The odd little quirk I noticed comes into play when I’m approaching an "old" green light. If I’m afraid it will turn yellow before I get close enough to safely get through, I avoid looking directly at the light. I mean, I can still see it in my peripheral vision, but I have this vague fear that if I look directly at the light it will certainly turn yellow and I’ll be stuck there forever, waiting for it to turn green again.

I’ve never failed to make the light stay green using the Bitchypoo Method.

Of course, I use this method when avoiding the people wanting money outside of Wal-Mart, but there it never works. "Would you like to contribute to the Mothers Against Drunk Driving?" they chirp, running over to me and making eye contact whether I like it or not. Well, what am I going to say, "No, I think mothers should keep their damn nose out of drunk drivers’ business, damnit!" Instead, I dig around in my wallet for a buck or two so they’ll go away and let me continue on in peace. At least they don’t try to get your name and address. Once upon a time – at least five years ago, I’m guessing – I got an envelope full of address labels and a "Won’t you help our blind, paralyzed, brain-damaged, divorced, wife-beating veterans? They made these address labels just for you!" letter. Being a softy, I sent them five bucks. Five dollars. FIVE DOLLARS. And for the rest of my life, I will never be free of these people. They took my five dollars and spent it making forty bazillion more address labels, which they send to me at regular intervals with letters begging for more money. Through three moves and a name change, they’ve managed to keep up with me, sending address labels all the way. The solution, I’ve decided (although it’s not a solution for the address label people; I don’t think there’s any way to get rid of them), is that when you give your money away, you have to do it anonymously. Pay with a money order, give them a fake address. Once they get your address, it’s all over, ’cause you know they sell your address to other charities looking for money, and pretty soon all you ever get in the mail are solicitations for money, address labels, and let’s not forget the packs of free greeting cards. I always save the cheesey greeting cards, but I’d never send them out to anyone. Well, not anyone I liked.

Last night, for the first time in a few months, instead of ordering pizza from Domino’s or Papa John’s, Fred made homemade pizza. His homemade pizza kicks serious ass, even when it’s just pepperoni and sausage pizza like we had this time. Sometimes he makes pizza with sausage, pepperoni, black olives, green olives and onion that is just to die for. Have I mentioned what a great cook he is? Somehow, I feel that that’s come up before.

i am weak from hunger…mother? i can’t see you…

Fred’s dad and stepmother are coming over to watch a movie with us tonight. I’m not sure what movie we’ll be watching, but it will be one I’ve seen before. I’m not a big fan of watching movies over and over, unless I like them a lot. When Harry Met Sally…, Sleepless in Seattle, Flashdance, Fame – any of those I’ll stop to watch when I’m flipping channels. Our choices tonight will be The Mummy, Big Daddy, or Arlington Road. Out of the three, I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing Arlington Road again, but none of them really cranks my tractor. Fred just loooooves to watch the same movies a thousand times in a row though, and as a result we’ve watched the same three or four scenes from The Matrix about six times now.