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Is it weird that I’m pleased for Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban? I’m just glad she found a way away from The Crazy
, and they appear to be very happy together.
I wish he’d cut his hair, though. His hair is too fine (not FOIN, but fine, texture-wise, YOU KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING) to hold that particular shaggy style well.
And speaking of hair, I’m glad she went a little darker/ reddish, because that platinum shade she was sporting was just washing her out.
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Saturday morning, Fred had gone hiking (more on why I didn’t go with him in a minute), and I was out in the back yard, cleaning out the bird bath. I glanced over toward the nearest tree, to see Miz Poo staring up into the tree in an agitated manner. I figured the squirrel was up there, teasing her, as he likes to do so often. I went closer to see if I could see the squirrel…
And it wasn’t a squirrel.
It took me FIFTEEN minutes to coax the little bastard out of the tree, and then all the cats gathered around the tree, staring upward, thinking “How the hell did he do that?”
“How did he….” ::lightbulb::
At first I thought he was jumping up and grabbing the lowest limb, and pulling himself up that way, so Fred went out and cut a bunch of limbs down. Then later, Fred was out back with the cats, and he watched Tommy shimmy up the trunk of the tree into the higher branches.
He’s NOT supposed to be able to do that, because he’s got the friggin’ SoftPaws caps on!
Fred went out and put fencing around the trunk of the tree, which appeared to only help Tommy shimmy up the tree trunk, so he resorted to cranking the electric fence up as high as it will go, which will keep Tommy and Sugarbutt and Mister Boogers away from the tree, or else they’ll get their asses zapped.
All I need is for one of the little fuckers to climb the tree, and drop down on the other side of the fence, and THEN not be able to get back over the fence, and then they’d be gone.
And I happen to like the little fuckers.
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So, the reason I didn’t go hiking with Fred on Saturday: I’ve stopped hiking for the time being. Not because of the hills and the fact that every time we went hiking I wanted to stab Fred in the eyeballs with a spork, but because, honestly, hiking is SO GODDAMN BORING. It’s getting hot out (the last couple of times we went, the temperature was over 100), and the animals are staying in their nice cool… places. Bunkers? And so, not only did we trudge and trudge and trudge along trails that all looked the same, we also weren’t seeing any chipmunks or squirrels or ANYTHING cute and furry, and I got so enraged at Fred last Wednesday when we went because we were on this trail that he SWORE was only about a mile long, but it felt like the fucking Bataan Death March, and then we had to go uphill at the end of the hike, WHICH I HATE, and I finally said “I love you, but GODDAMN DO I HATE HIKING.”
Thus, for the time being I will not be hiking with him. Maybe I’ll start again once the weather cools off – I really do need to get some training in before next summer, when we’re supposed to do Mt. Katahdin – but for now, I won’t.
And I couldn’t be happier!
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Something else that makes me want to kill Fred: he’s under the impression that if HE is hot, YOU must also be hot. Thus, when I walk into the living room wearing a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt and slippers, and immediately get under not one but TWO blankets when I sit down on the couch, he makes a face and says “Howwwwwwww can you POSSIBLY be COLD?”
And it makes me want to kill him.
Because losing over 100 pounds in 5 months, losing all that fat as insulation, and the fact that I was always cold BEFORE I started losing weight, that right there is a great big goddamn hint as to HOW I could POSSIBLY be COLD, motherfucker.
This is me, every night:
Yes, sometimes I need to pull my sweatshirt up over my nose, because my FACE gets cold.
The only time I’m not cold when I’m in this house is if I’m (a) doing housework, (b) in a hot bath, or (c) in bed, in my bedroom, where the air vents are closed tight, I no longer run the ceiling fan at night, and I have a quilt and a heavy comforter covering me. And it helps if I have a cat or two pressed up against me.
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: The Book of the Dead
, by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. Pretty good so far, but I haven’t spent much time reading in days and days, so it’s going slowly.
Finished recently: The Other Side
, by Marian Keyes. I do love her books, and this one was a good one, but not my favorite.
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Man on a mission.
Cranky, crotchety old man.
All of today’s uploaded pictures are here
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2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
: Miz Poo vs. The Intel Man.
: Fred tries to poison me.
: It occurs to me that that’s perhaps far more detailed than y’all need.]]>