(He even sent me flowers. Yellow ones! Hands off, ladies. You try to touch him, you’ll be drawing back a nub.) * * * Last night, I was almost asleep when I felt the light touch of a mosquito on my chin. You know those really big goony ones, with the long gangly legs? It felt like one of those, and so I jerked out of my almost-sleep to slap at it, because I didn’t relish the idea of walking around with a huge mosquito bite welt on my chin. I opened my eyes a moment after I slapped at the mosquito, to find Miz Poo laying on the pillow next to me, her eyes large and dark with concern for my mental well-being. Which is when I realized that hadn’t been a mosquito. It had been one of her whiskers brushing my chin. See, I sleep on my side facing the pillow she sleeps on, sometimes hugging the pillow when she’s not laying there. She had, without my realizing it, climbed up on the pillow and gotten as close to my face as possible, because she loooooooves her momma. Lucky, I guess, that I hadn’t hurt her when I slapped at the mosquito/ whisker. This isn’t the first time she’s startled me out of a sleep recently, either. A few weeks ago I was almost asleep when she was overcome with love for me, and had to reach her paw out and rest it on my neck. I jerked awake, which startled her, and it took some serious petting and snuggling to calm her down. I love my Poo Pie, have I mentioned? * * * Fred and I were watching Everybody Loves Raymond the other night, and I noticed that Ray Romano has a startling resemblance to… well, see for yourself: Call me mean if you want, but you can’t possibly deny the resemblance. * * * Cancel that paragraph at the beginning of the entry about how much I love my husband. I just found out that we’re doing Thanksgiving at our house this year. Maybe he’s just trying to give me a Halloween scare?]]>


this game. Damn those Fractious Timers for linking to it! I’ve gotten better since I first started playing it, but sometimes when I see all the words I missed getting, I want to throw myself eyeball-first onto a very sharp knife. Argh! Although Fred and I both do a lot better as a team than either of us does alone – last night, we got up to more than 27,000 points, which I think is pretty good. * * * Today makes the third day in a row that I’ve been out of bed before 7 am, which is just WRONG. I had to get up early Monday to help Fred out with the cats at the pet store, I got up early yesterday to follow Fred to Firestone to drop off my Jeep for new tires and a tune-up, and today I just couldn’t get back to sleep once I’d talked to Fred for a few minutes before he left. So I got up, changed the sheets on the bed, tossed the other sheets in the washer, vacuumed the upstairs, cleaned the litter box, exercised, took a shower, and made potato salad and coleslaw to have with dinner tonight. I think maybe I’m sick. I have to get up early tomorrow, too, since it’s my usual day for feeding and poop-scooping. I hope this whole getting-up-early thing doesn’t become a habit. I’d hate to become one of those psychos who rolls out of bed at 7 every morning, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. ::shudder:: * * * I am pee-my-pants excited about the fact that they’re building a Sam’s Club about three miles down the road from here. Once it’s built, I won’t have to drive all the way to the other side of Huntsville to buy my big-ass-sized packs of paper towels and splenda – in fact, it won’t be much further from home than Target is. Fred should probably just start having his paychecks made out directly to Sam’s Club, ’cause with it being so convenient, I’m sure my ass will be there, ALL the time. Whee! * * * Y’know, I think the whole Jennifer Lopez/ Ben Affleck is just a little too obvious. I don’t think they’re really in a relationship – I think that “relationship” is a cover for Ben and Matt Damon’s true love, or maybe Jennifer’s really back with Puff Diddly Daddly Doo and they’re keeping it mum because P. Diddle with the Fiddle is supposed to still be involved with Mother-of-his-child Kim Porter. It saddens me that I know the name of the mother of Puff Dorky’s kids without even having to double-check to be sure I’ve got it right. But I digress, kinda. I think that if the Jennifer Lopez/ Ben Affleck relationship is for real and they’re truly talking marriage, someone needs to slap the stupid out of Jennifer Lopez. Being on divorce #2 at the age of 32, you’d think she’d stop and think a minute before plunging into yet another marriage. But I don’t guess that introspection is the forte of that particular diva. I read in US Magazine the other day that Jennifer Lopez is wearing a $3.5 million ring these days. I had to stop and catch my breath, because THREE AND A HALF MILLION DOLLARS for a freakin’ piece of jewelry? I don’t care who you are, or how much money you have to throw away, that’s insanely idiotic. You could buy a country for that damn much money! Maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m just missing the love-of-jewelry gene, because to me anything more than a couple of thousand dollars on something you WEAR is nuts. I went to see Sweet Home Alabama with the spud at the beginning of the month, and the scene where Patrick Dempsey brings Reese Witherspoon into (I think) Tiffany’s, where he proposes to her and tells her she can have any ring in the place just left me cold. Big whoop. I can have a big-ass ring that I have to be nervous about wearing, lest I get mugged, or I hit my clumsy hand on something and the stone flies out? Big deal. Now, take me into a book store and tell me I can have anything I want, and you’ve got my heart. I’m such a geek.]]>


I was amazed, because this is the first time I’ve ever seen a squirrel in our yard. We do have the occasional squirrel in our subdivision, but they tend to hang out in the more wooded yards. Apparently Mr. Squirrel had sniffed out something he liked, though, and made a special trip to our yard. At one point, he was straddling the two mesh bags, but I wasn’t quick enough to get a picture. After doing some intense work, Mr. Squirrel managed to chew through the string holding that mesh bag up, and he and the bag landed on the ground. Once he was on the ground with the bag, he chewed various parts of the bag, trying to get it open. Since it’s a simple drawstring bag, he managed to get it open at the top. And then he scattered half the damn bag of seed all over the ground, in and amongst the weird plants that are growing from the birdseed that’s already been dropped on the ground by messy birds. He sat and ate seed for a good five minutes or so. After a while, he climbed up and hung from one of the bird feeders that was almost empty of the usual sunflower seed mix. I tried to get a picture, but wasn’t quick enough. After, he sat on the outside windowsill and cleaned himself, then headed off for parts unknown. I have no idea where the cats were during all this. Probably hiding under the bed, all freaked out. * * * I went to the post office yesterday to mail some packages for Fred and also to finally mail out the giveaway stuff from last week, and this time I remembered to bring the camera with me. You have to look really close, but I promise you, that field is absolutely covered with morning glories. Really! At least I got a good picture of a butterfly. And speaking of butterflies, when I got home from THAT trip, I glanced at my butterfly bush and saw several butterflies partaking of nectar. I’m glad it decided to finally start blooming. (Is it just me who always thinks of Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally saying “I would be pleased to partake of your pecan piiiiiiiiiiiiie” when I hear, say, or read the word “partake”?) * * * Tell me that doesn’t look JUST like a mug shot (Fred looked at it and pronounced it “Poo-J”). Notice Miz Poo’s strong resemblance to Elvis? If that ain’t a sneer, I don’t know what is. You’d have a sneer, too, if someone took a huge chunk out of your lip for a biopsy, believe me. She still looks oddly chinless from when they shaved her chin to treat the acne, too. Poor Miz Poo. * * * I was out cleaning the trash out of my Jeep yesterday, when I noticed a couple of snails going at it on the driveway. I assume they were going at it, anyway. Do snails do it doggy style? Or do dogs do it snail style? A question for the ages, that. * * * Spanky with Slipper. Spanky feels the loooooove.]]>


Tubby’s hoping I won’t put that hair clip on his tail. Spanky’s annoyed with me, because I made a kissy noise at him, and woke him up out of a doze. * * * Friday Five. 1. What is your favorite scary movie? I don’t know that I have a favorite, but I liked The Sixth Sense, if only because the ending startled me so badly. The Freddie Krueger movies hold a place in my heart, too – at least the first 25 or so of them… 2. What is your favorite Halloween treat? I like it all – the more the merrier! 3. Do you dress up for Halloween? If so, describe your best Halloween costume. No, I haven’t since I was 18 or so. My best Halloween costume would probably be this one: 4. Do you enjoy going to haunted houses or other spooky events? Sometimes. Actually, that’s a lie. I’m a big wimp about the haunted houses where people come flying out at you. I think we’re going to a cornfield maze this weekend, though, which should be sufficiently spooky. 5. Will you dress up for Halloween this year? Nope. I’m a party pooper, I guess.]]>


here. For the record Olivia (the bobtail), Sassy (with the cool fur) and Magnolia (the little scaredy cat) have all been adopted since Monday, and Apple – who is male, but has the most demanding, feminine meow I’ve heard, second only to that of the Fancypants – is spoken for. Cicely, who not only resembles Miz Poo, but also kicks ass like she does, absolutely cracks me up, because she’s in the same cage as Mimosa, and she spends all her time kicking his ass. When I pick her up, though, she’s not feisty at all, and instead snuggles up to me and lays there calmly purring. And you think Birch looks like Fancypants? When I walked into the cat room this morning, I thought I was looking at Fancypants – there’s another cat who’s a dead ringer for him, and he’s about Fancypants’ size, though perhaps a little heavier. His eyes are more of a green than Fancypants’, but he has the exact same high-pitched meow. Unreal. * * * Today was a very VERY good mail day (except for the fact that I forgot to take the camera with me, and thus couldn’t get a picture of the empty field next to the post office, which is covered with morning glories of all sizes and colors, and looks incredibly cool) for me. I received the following: From Miz Joley, a bar of citrus-scented smiley-face soap! As I said via email to Jolene, “I don’t understand. Smiley faces make you think of me…?” Hee! From reader Leslie in California, a smiley-face postcard! And the smiley face is a sticker I can take off and stick somewhere! Very cute. From Teresa, How to Shit in the Woods. Teresa read this entry, and thought I could use this book. Which I certainly can! And from reader Marisa, Bitch, which I am very much looking forward to reading. * * * We watched The Exorcist last night, because Fred was in a mood to watch it. I’ve never seen it before – though I’ve seen parts, and also read the book – and since it’s been digitally remastered and all, Fred wanted to be sure I saw it. It wasn’t a bad movie, although the lovey-dovey Mom/ Regan parts at the beginning put me into sugar shock, and there were parts of the movie that seemed kind of disjointed to us. The only part that creeped me out was when Regan came skittering down the stairs backwards and upside-down. DAMN creepy. Once Fred went to bed last night, I watched The Bachelor – which I’d taped – and I would swear upon all that is holy that when Aaron and Heather were in the pool, and he got that spacey, blissful look on his face, that there was a little SOMETHING going on that we weren’t seeing. If you know what I mean. Because Aaron said “I think Heather wanted to get more intimate and romantic than I did”, and I think that we all know that Creepy Bachelors say “Intimate and romantic” when what they really mean is “She was giving me a handjob under the water, and I didn’t stop her, even though I’m not attracted to her, BECAUSE I AM ONLY HUMAN.” Gah. I really liked Heather, so it was hard to see her talking about how she was falling for him, and they had a definite connection one second, and then in the next second, he was talking about how he didn’t feel the chemistry, underwater handjob aside. (No, he didn’t say anything about there being a handjob. That was my version of the story.) What I want to know is how the hell these women are falling so hard, so fast for Aaron the Creepy Kiss-Everyone Bachelor. I mean it’s been, what? Three weeks, if that? And only a few of them have been on one-on-one dates with him, so altogether they’ve each spent MAYBE several hours in his presence, if you count the time he spent whisking them off one-by-one to stick his tongue down their throats? How can you even think about falling that hard for someone you’ve spent such a small amount of time with? I’m predicting that it comes down to Gwen and Helene. Sorry, non-The Bachelor-watchers. I didn’t mean to yammer on about the show for so long. Tonight, Survivor! Whoo! I hope like hell that Robb gets his ass kicked off. A girl can dream, can’t she? The cocked head of curiosity. The bitchy meow. (I have no idea why he appears to be slightly blue in these pictures)]]>


* * * I taped Boomtown Sunday night, and watched it yesterday during the day while I worked on a cross-stitch for Fred. I’ve been telling Fred for ages that I would cross-stitch this for him to frame and hang in his office. It took me only a few hours to do (because I messed up a few letters and had to yank them out and redo them), so I don’t know why I put it off for so long. Now all I have to do is get a frame. And yes, I know that the bottom isn’t centered completely, but it’s close enough for government work. I liked it so much (the show, not the cross-stitch – though I like the way that came out, too) that I made Fred watch it with me last night. He liked it, but also doesn’t care whether he sees another episode of the show, the bastard. I, on the other hand, will be making it one of my regular shows. We went through our movies over the weekend, and came up with a bunch to get rid of (which is not surprising to y’all, since Fred’s selling a bunch on eBay), and there were several that I’ve had for a while, but never got around to watching. I had Fred put them in a separate pile so I could watch them and decide whether to keep them or not. One of them was The Amy Fisher Story, starring Drew Barrymore. I don’t remember buying that movie, but I’m sure I bought it because it was very very cheap (less than $5), and also because I kinda like Drew Barrymore. Sunday morning, I sat down and watched it. MAN did it suck. Very bad, stiff acting. I watched ’til the end, god knows why. It’s not like I didn’t know how it ended! * * * ]]>


When I got up at 3:07 to pee, I was almost knocked over by the stampede of cats accompanying me into the bathroom. When I didn’t feed them and, instead, sat to pee, they milled around in confusion, sniffing at the spot where the food bowl usually sits and sniffing each other, then hissing and flouncing off to pout. The funny thing is that our skinniest cat – Spot – is also the one who is most worried when food isn’t readily available. It’s not that he wants to eat all the time, it’s that he wants to be able to eat all the time, if he so desires. When I went into the bathroom this morning, I was blinded by the sight of Tubby’s ass sticking up out of the toilet bowl as he desperately slurped up water. Standing in line for their turns at the watering hole were Spanky and Spot. This made me break into song, including the Antonio-inspired accent: At the watering holes of the well-to-do I detect a re-zis-tahnce to (precisely!) our heroine’s staaaaahle… The kitties did not care for the tune, the unappreciative bastards. Anyway, once Fred had Miz Poo boxed up, I put the food and water back where it belonged (Spot all but did a swan dive into the bowl), got dressed, and took Miz Poo to the vet. On a side note, I swear that when I’m a trazillionaire, I’m going to hire someone to come pick up the cats and take them to the vet when need be, because the sad little meows they let out in the car on the way always breaks my heart. After signing a paper stating that I was turning down pre-anethesia testing and microchipping (because I knew that Fred would give me hell if I agreed to it – and if Miz Poo dies because she didn’t have the pre-anesthesia testing, I’ll be blaming Fred, you better believe it), I petted Miz Poo through the holes of the box and went on my way. Later, I was on the phone with Fred, when his cellphone rang. “Oh, it’s the vet!” he said, checking the caller id. I waited while he answered the phone. After a minute, I heard him say “Can you hold?”, and he said to me “I’m going to call you back. Love you. Bye!” And he hung up. You can imagine what went through my mind while I waited forEVER for Fred to call back. Miz Poo was maimed. Miz Poo had died because I hadn’t opted for the pre-surgery screening. Miz Poo had run away. I don’t mind telling you that I was pretty damn scared. Y’all KNOW how much I love that cat. Finally, Fred called back to tell me that the vet had had questions about Miz Poo’s wheezing. For a year or so, ever since Miz Poo had her eyelid cauterized so that her weird, wiry hair wouldn’t grow inside her eyelid and scratch her eye, she’s had a wheeze. The vet (not the one we have now, but the previous one) said that it would eventually go away. It hasn’t, but it also hasn’t bothered her all that much, either. She wheezes for a little while, then coughs and the wheezing is gone. She does tend to do it more when she’s upset, which explains why she was doing it at the vet’s office. Fred was impressed because that’s the first time an actual vet has called in person to ask a question. The house seems empty without Miz Poo shoving her portly butt between me and the keyboard, laying under the desk across my feet, or howling to be picked up and loved on. Every time I go upstairs, Spot runs into the bathroom to make sure I haven’t taken the food away. ]]>


here, I anagrammed “My Fat Ass” and came up with “Fay Masts”, which is the name I’m going to use if I ever have to travel incognito. Like I’d ever really have to travel incognito. * * * I’ve seen this several times before, but it always manages to get me teary-eyed. Thanks to reader Sandy for the link. * * * Fred’s day to feed and poop-scoop at the pet store is Monday mornings, and more often than not, I go along to help him. (The fact that I get out of bed an hour and a half earlier than usual should tell you how much I love these cats!) I help out mostly by filling the food and water bowls, snuggling with the kitties and trying to stay out of the way. Thus far, there’s always been an empty cage, which is where we put the cats while we clean and straighten their cages, but today was a full house, with a few new cats. One of them, in a cage with a couple of other kittens, was an absolute dead ringer for Fancypants. It was stunning, this kitten looked EXACTLY like Fancypants, from the fluffy, swishy tail to the green eyes. I brought the camera with me, but Fred has claimed the pictures for an entry of his own. When that’s up, I’ll link to it. I’m a little surprised that they’ve got black cats – three of them that I can think of – up for adoption so close to Halloween. I’ve always heard that shelters won’t adopt out black cats during the second half of October. I’d hate to see anything happen to my little snugglepuss, Austin. Man, what an adorable little kitten he is. * * * We went to Fred’s mother and stepfather’s house on Saturday. They’ve sold their house and are buying a house near us (they’re not buying the house because it’s near us, but because of the general location. I think.), and since they’re moving into a smaller house, they need to get rid of some stuff. They offered us a secretary that (I think) belonged to Fred’s grandmother, and also a table that Fred’s grandfather built. We took the table with us on Saturday and put it in the guest bedroom. It’s a pretty nice table, and we had talked about putting it by the front door, but Tubby likes to lay on the table that’s already there, and this table is a tad rickety, so we put it where Tubby couldn’t get to it. We’re going to go back and get the secretary some other time – though soon, I guess, because they’re closing on the house November 15th. While we were there, I think Fred’s mother offered us about everything in the house. They gave us some skewers, which rocked, because we’d been talking about buying some so we could grill shrimp. Fred’s mother offered us a chair that belonged to his grandmother, and I was tempted to take it, because we’re selling the wardrobe in the corner of the computer room, and I’d like to have a chair there where I could sit and read. The thing that I dislike about the downstairs of our house is that if you want to sit and read, you have to sit in the living room because there’s nowhere else to sit. And if someone wants to watch the television in there, it can get a tad distracting. I’d like to have a chair in the computer room to retreat to when need be. In the end, we didn’t take Fred’s grandmother’s chair, because the fabric is cream-colored, and I’m afraid that the cats would mess it up pretty quickly. But don’t think I wasn’t tempted! * * * Speaking of cats, I glanced at the cat door earlier to see a mostly black cat with splotches of white sniffing around the cat door. I had to stare for a moment to be sure he wasn’t one of ours, and when I’d determined that he wasn’t, I walked over to scare him away. I’m thinking that one of the things I don’t need is a strange cat running around the house while I’m off running errands. As I walked toward him, he looked curiously up at me, in a friendly matter. “Go on, kitty. You don’t live here!” I said. As if he was going to say to himself “By god, she’s RIGHT! I do not, in fact, reside here. What on earth was I thinking?” and run off. He did not. Finally, I bent down and smacked at the plastic flap of the cat door. He ran a short distance away and then turned to see what I was going to do next. Fred (I’d been talking to him on the phone when I spotted the cat) suggested I use the can of air to scare him off. The can of air always works when one of our kitties gets out of line or we need to break up a fight. I stepped outside and shot the can of air in his direction. He ran to the fence, and climbed to the top, then sat there and stared at me. “Kitty, go! Go!” I said, spraying more air at him. Finally, when I took a couple of steps toward him, he took off. Cats just seem to be drawn to our house. * * * I bought some fake flowers when I was at Michael’s earlier. Aren’t they adorable? I don’t know how long they’ll last in this house, because we’re on a getting-rid-of-stuff spree, but for now just seeing them makes me smile. Whether Fred thinks fake flowers are cheesy or not. So there. * * * Look kind of guilty, don’t they?]]>