Month: January 2007

1/17/07

Mister Boogers did not react well when we brought That Dog into the house a few weeks ago. The day before we brought Jake home, Tommy and Mister Boogers could smell the doggy on Fred’s hand and found it FASCINATING. I think the daffodils don’t realize winter’s not over yet. The answer to my “What is this bush?” question of a few months ago: We have winter honeysuckle, one bush on each side of the porch, and it’s blooming. And it smells AWESOME, kind of lemony. I think those bushes will be staying. We had the water oak on the side of the house trimmed back. Fred was afraid it’d look funny, but I think it turned out pretty well. The pond, still full. Don’t you think that pond needs a few ducks? The sunset, from the front porch of the Smallville house. I’ve got a new purse, this one bought at a Liz Claiborne factory store in Pigeon Forge. I like it a lot, but I haven’t forsaken my beloved Healthy Back bags. I just need a bit of a break for a while before I realize how PERFECT the Healthy Back Bag is for me. Who wants Monkey Butt? NO ONE. I swear, she’s enjoying this. This would be the picture that convinced me it might be time to go down a size (to medium) in these pants. (Though I still haven’t done it yet!) If nothing else, looking at Debbie’s pictures from the trip to Pigeon Forge points up (to me, at least) the fact that I’m far more willing to have my picture taken than I was in the past. Hatin’ you. Tomorrow: Stuff I Didn’t Buy. (All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen here.)

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Self-portrait #8:
At the age of 39, for the first time in my life I have a regular morning skin routine I’ve stuck to for longer than two months. I’m currently using the Grassroots line in the morning and evening, but I’m about to finish out the containers I have, so tell me what you use on your face and really like.
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Previously 2006: I’m not germ-phobic or anything, but GAG ME. 2005: Stuff I Bought. 2004: No entry. 2003: Frequently asked questions. 2002: I love me some messing around with the camera. 2001: I was being subjected to porn without realizing it! 2000: Ben and me, we had sex in the back of a van.]]>

1/16/07

finished the front room over the weekend. Fred spent most of Sunday working on the wood shed, and I spent all of Sunday painting and painting and… oh yeah! Painting. Because I love it so much, you see. On the way home we stopped at the grocery store and I got my ass (or, strictly speaking, my GUT) insulted. Hmph. We’d intended to make Monday a short working-on-the-house day, but I informed Fred that I very much wanted to have the two downstairs bathrooms painted and crown-moldinged before the guy came to do the floors (which he’ll be starting next Monday, woohoo!). Fred pulled the toilet and sink out of the small half bath off the computer room and started painting it. And it’s such a small room that he actually finished painting it, and could even have gone so far as to put up the crown molding except we didn’t want to stand around and wait for the paint to dry, so we left around mid-afternoon. Before we went to the grocery store on Saturday and I was practically told point-blank that I was FAT, we went to a supply store and looked at fencing. Basically, it ended up that we could get a Fred-installed field fence around the back yard for a quarter of what it would cost to have a professional install a chain-link fence, so I told Fred it was okay with me. And then I suggested that since we were saving so much money, we should hire a professional to replace the linoleum in the laundry room, the upstairs bathroom, and to tile the area around the bathtub/ showers in the two full bathrooms. And Fred agreed, and not only did he agree, he actually called and set up an appointment to have someone come out and give us a quote. Things are really coming together out there in Smallville, and I’m getting really excited about moving out there in a few months. On a side note, I should send the fence guy a thank you note for not bothering to show up and mark the yard for the fence we were hiring to have him put in. It gave us enough time to consider alternatives, and save a buttload of money. I just don’t get these service people who make appointments to give quotes or provide a service, then simply don’t bother to show up or ever call again. Because in the future, if someone in the area says “Hey Robyn, who do you recommend to put in a fence?”, I’ll be saying “I can tell you who I do NOT recommend, that’s for sure!” When Fred was removing the toilet and sink from the back bathroom, we decided to put the sink by the road so that if anyone driving by wanted to take it, they could. Less than half an hour later, someone knocked on the door and asked if it was okay that they take the sink. Not only did they take the sink, they took the toilet, and left their name and number for later this week when Fred removes the sink and toilet from the front bathroom. Recycling at its finest.

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I think it’s possible that Newt, who is Not Our Cat, might end up becoming an inside cat. Every time we go to Smallville and he’s hanging out on the front porch, he hauls ass for the front door. If we leave it open for longer than a few seconds, he moseys on in and wanders around the house, meowing in his high-pitched big-baby squeak. He’ll hang out with us for quite a while, usually until he gets on Fred’s nerves, and Fred tosses him back outside. Maxi likes to come in and wander around (Sunday, when Fred was working out back, he left the back door open, and the screen door doesn’t swing shut the way it should, so Maxi and Newt came right in, explored for a while, then went back outside. I suspect this behavior will not go over well with the ass-showing Mister Boogers. “I’m prettier than that cat on the bag, right? The bag of cheap cat food you only feed the cats you don’t love as much, right? MUCH PRETTIER! SAY IT! I’m the prettiest boy in the world!”
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Fred’s new obsession, now that we’ve done the dog thing, is chickens. Oh, how he wants chickens. He can’t WAIT to have chickens. Chickens and ducks. He has PLANZ for the chickens, people. He’s always talking about his mad planz for the chickens, how he’ll blah blah nesting boxes and blah blah fences and blah blah worried blah blah. The one idea he’s brought up and which I can 100 percent get behind is the idea of having the fenced area where the chickens will be right next to the fenced area where the cats will be. Not only will we have the entertainment of seeing the cats freaked out by the chickens (the cats will not be able to get out of the fenced area, don’t worry), but we can occasionally let the chickens into the back yard (when the cats have been locked into the house), where they can eat all the bugs their little hearts desire. Chickens I can live with easier than a dog, I think. Chickens won’t require all the time and attention dogs require, and as long as they’re fed, I can ignore them and not feel bad about it. (I don’t know who I think I’m kidding. I’ll probably end up like Haven Kimmel and her beloved pet chicken, with the damn thing riding around on my shoulder.)
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I think it only fair to tell y’all that I’m currently reading Marley and Me, by John Grogan, and though Marley sounded like a NIGHTMARE to live with, it’s making me want a dog in the worst way. It’ll go away eventually – probably right around the time I finish the book. But that John Grogan can tell one hell of a dog story, there’s no doubt about it. I keep cackling and reading bits aloud to Fred, also cackles.
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The foster babies are doing well, though I have no pictures for you today. Moonman and Moondance have been spending a little more time outside their room in the evenings, though Mister Boogers is so adamant about showing his ass that he scares them, and they tend to spend most of their outside-the-room time hiding from him. In answer to a comment someone left last week, I don’t know how long they’ll be with us. The shelter manager asked if they could come stay with us for a few weeks, because they’d been in the cage at the pet store for so long that they were getting on each others’ nerves. They’re no bother and they’re both pretty sweet, so we don’t mind having them around. Fantine and her babies are doing well. They’re over their upper respiratory infection, so it’s time to have them spayed and neutered, which will be happening on Friday.
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365 Self-Portrait Project; Portrait #7.
On particular days, I hold my hands before me and silently exalt their singular growth like they are the rigid-nylon of a yew’s bark, a thousand-years-old, here to witness my grandmother and her grandmother and her grandmother. I love the mini tree-rings of my fingertips, how I leave stump-marks everywhere I go like the imprints of galaxies, skimmings of the universe’s flesh and blood. I’ve lost 151 pounds, and though you’d think I’d spend time staring at myself in the mirror, looking at the places that once were fat and no longer are, the body part that has me most fascinated is my hands. I didn’t think I had chubby hands before, but I guess you don’t weigh more than 300 pounds and have slender fingers. My largest ring size was a 10; I’m now wearing a size 6. I’m not a graceful person, but there are times I look down at my fingers, and I see a flash of grace.
Saturday‘s self-portrait. Sunday’s. Monday’s.
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If Sugarbutt’s the happiest cat in the world, I think Newt runs a very close second.
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Previously 2006: Things you may not know about me. 2005: No entry. 2004: I put too much perfume on this morning and now I’m sitting here with the stank rays shooting off me in every direction. 2003: And on the way home, he recounted, word-for-word a conversation he, his doctor, and I had had, only he substituted the nurse for me, and had her saying what I’d said. 2002: Ever hear of “Shut up, Junior, that’s rude, and the next time you say it, you’re going to your room for the rest of the day”? 2001: I’m such a ditz sometimes 2000: I’ve turned into such an old lady.]]>

1/12/07

wind silence to announce that Fred And3rson is a great big liar. Well. Except that he isn’t. I don’t know what it is about Lowe’s that makes me so gassy. I suspect it’s a defense mechanism much like that of skunks. Next time we go to Lowe’s, I’ll announce to Fred that I’m feeling gassy and we’ll see how fast we get out of there. I should have tried that last night when we were in Lowe’s and he kept pointing out the god-awful ugliest curtains EVER to me. I wish I’d had my camera with me.

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We watched Jackass 2 the weekend I got back from Pigeon Forge, and let me announce that (1) I have no use for Jackass, because it’s an idiotic show/ movie, and I hate those guys and their stupid things they do, and watching their idiocy always manages to piss me off, and (2) I find Bam Margera oddly appealing. Not Johnny Knoxville (those crazy, twirling eyes betray a certain amount of mental and probably emotional damage) and not Wee Man (though he has a nice-guy face) and CERTAINLY not Steve-O (I would happily pay to appear in Jackass 3 if I could punch Steve-O in the face), but Bam Margera. I don’t know why. It’s a little disturbing, really. I’m going to go jump off a cliff now.
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Speaking of Pigeon Forge, I think I mentioned that we did a lot of shopping while we were there, and more than once I had to produce my driver’s license when I used my credit (debit) card. For the most part, the clerks would glance at the license, the name on my debit card to be sure they matched, and finish ringing up the sale. Because god knows if I’d stolen the credit card I couldn’t have easily stolen the driver’s license too, right? Anyway, a couple of times the clerk noticed that I looked vastly different now than I did on the card, and a couple of them asked how I’d lost the weight (or actually, one asked and the other just commented “Wow, you’ve lost a lot of weight”, to which the only possible response is “Yes I have.” Unless you’re my husband, who would surely have been compelled to tell the clerk how he’d lost the weight, how much he’d lost, and that he likes cheese. Just not on a salad.), but I noticed that neither of them even hesitated at accepting that the woman in the driver’s license picture was me. I guess I still resemble the “then” me enough to pass. I should totally replace the picture on my license with a picture of Miz Poo, and when they looked questioningly at me, I could say it was taken on a bad hair day.
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Someone explain to me, please, what exactly “misses” sizes entail. I’ve been shopping exclusively in the “women’s” section, but occasionally I’ll see something cute in the “misses” section, only I’m scared to go over there, because I think it might be meant for itty bitty size 0 girls who are too cool for skool and if I step foot in that section an alarm would go off (“Woop! Woop! Woop! Old lady alert! There’s nothing for you in this section, lady, move along!”) and security would come running and kick me out. So, enlighten me, wouldya?
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365 Self-Portrait Project #3.
In front of the computer, where I spend far too many hours. I call this one “Robyn and her wattle.” I’ve noticed recently that while I sit in front of my computer and stare with glazed eyes at whatever I’m reading, I always either chew the fingernails on my left hand, or pick at my face. Bad habits (the chewing and picking, that is. Well. The incessant surfing also). I’m not terribly motivated to stop either of them, though.
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Cosette is still at the vet’s (I’m sure the vet hasn’t had a chance to see her yet), and hopefully they’ll be able to figure out what’s going on with her so I can pick her up later this morning, or this afternoon. Last night Fred had had enough of Eponine’s scaredy-cat ways, and he chased her around the room until he caught her, and he picked her up and petted her until she calmed down, and then he put her down and petted her some more until she gave up the fight and threw herself onto her back for a belly rub. This morning, she ran a little less. I think, given enough time, we’ll turn her into a lovebug whether she likes it or not! Eponine, up close. I love this kitty and her tail-wagging ways. Wild boy Javert. It’s hard to play with Eponine when Javert’s around, ’cause if you start waving a toy at her, he runs right over and grabs it. He cracks me up. Cosette, before her trip to the vet. Moondance and Moonman are doing well. I think moving them into the guest bedroom was a good move – they LOVE to sit on the table by the window and look out at the neighborhood, sleep in the sun, play, and greet us when we go in to spend time with them. Last night we opened the door to their room so they could come out and explore. For the most part, Moonman was uinterested in exploring – he just wanted to hang out in his room. Moondance explored quite a bit, especially when Fred brought her downstairs, and of course Mister Boogers had to show his butt again. The good thing is that while Mister Boogers acts like a jerk, growls and hisses and goes into hysterics, he doesn’t attack the cat who’s freaking him out, so we don’t have to worry about the safety of our fosters. (Of course, I think Moondance could kick his butt, anyway, so I’m not too worried about her!) He loves to hang out under the spud’s desk. “What?”   “Dude. Seriously. You’re in my space.” * * * Previously 2006: Right now, Fred’s thanking his lucky stars that I don’t have this much Christmas stuff, because it would drive him NUTS. 2005: (YES, GODDAMNIT! I HAVE CONFIRMED THAT YOU CAN, IN FACT, BEGIN WRITING THE FUCKING CHECK BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY HEAR WHAT THE TOTAL IS, YOU IN-MY-WAY MOTHERFUCKER!) 2004: I need to go crack open a beer, watch the game, scratch my balls, and think about what this means. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: “Yeah, so you‘ll be the one with the big head blocking everyone else’s view.” 2000: No, I’m not on any drugs, why do you ask?]]>

1/11/07

* * * Did I mention that I got a Keith and the Girl hoodie from Fred for my birthday? I did! And Patrice wasn’t kidding when she called it the most comfortable, warmest hoodie on the face of the earth. It’s AWESOME.

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I am feeling oddly scattered today, so cannot solidify my thoughts into an entry (but if I could, it’d taste exactly like cinnamon!), so I’m going to post my 2nd self-portrait (only 363 more to go!), put up some cat pictures and call it good enough!
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Do you feel lucky, punk? Well, do you? (With staple gun (and fancy ear protectors) at the Smallville house.)
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After two days of Amoxicillin, Cosette is still spending way too much time in the litter box straining to pee, so I’m taking her to the vet this afternoon, where she’ll stay overnight and see the vet tomorrow morning. Hopefully they’ll be able to figure out what’s going on with her. Poor Cosette – she runs from us now because almost every time we go into the kitten room, we grab her up and shoot stuff down her throat. That Javert, what a pretty boy. I don’t know how it is that his sisters and mother all have the Goopy Eye and he doesn’t. Lucky boy. They adore standing at the window looking out. They’re our own personal security system! Now if we could only train them to bark when an intruder comes near… Eponine the scaredy cat. Cosette and Eponine. Javert’s not too old to hang out with his mama. Javert from above.  
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Previously 2006: Oh, how I love my books. 2005: I need a nap. 2004: Stuff I bought in Maine. 2003: No entry. 2002: Firsts. 2001: You rock, maaaaaaaan! 2000: I’m blue.]]>

1/10/07

reading list for 2006, I only read 129 books in 2006. In 2005 I read 191, and in 2004 I read 195. I read 62 books less in 2006 than the year before. What the hell have I been spending all my time doing? Ah well – 129 books in a year isn’t a bad total. I’d like to bring it up for 2007, maybe closer to 200, but considering that it’s January 10th and I haven’t finished the only book I started this month, it’s not looking good! No wonder my bookcase is stuffed so full of books. Well, less reading combined with the fact that I won’t stop buying the damn things, anyway. Maybe once we move into the new house and life settles down, I’ll get back to reading the way I used to. Maybe not, though – there’ll be chickens to feed and gardens to hoe!

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I was catching up on some of my blog/ journal reading over the weekend, and I stumbled across the fact that Mac is doing a 365 self-portraits project, and I looked at her pictures, and I thought to myself “Self, wouldn’t it be kind of neat to do the same sort of thing to chronicle my 40th year?” And my Self said “Wow, that sounds like a pain in the ass.” And I said “Yes it does, and I know I can never take a picture nearly as good as this one that Mac took for I have not the Mad Skillz, but it would still be neat to look back upon when I am one hundred years old.” (For the record, this is my favorite Mac self-portrait.) And my Self said “WhatEVERRRRR. God. You’re such a pain in the ass.” And I said “Shut up.” So I was using the self-timer to take a picture of myself when my parents called to wish me a happy birthday, and I kept taking pictures of myself, and I think I got a very “me” picture.
(I wasn’t rolling my eyes; I was talking and in the process of moving my gaze from the camera to something off to the side, and that’s when the camera snapped the picture OF COURSE.) This should be an interesting project, no? I’m thinking I’ll get about 10 days in when y’all will say “GODDAMN woman, enough with the self-portraits!”
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Thanks for all your birthday wishes yesterday. I had a very nice, very relaxing day wherein I did not much at all, just sat on my ass in front of the computer, ran a few errands, and then went out to dinner at Outback with Fred and the spud. Rather than order a cake from the good bakery in Huntsville, we had the spud go to the grocery store and pick up some cupcakes and ice cream and called it good enough. Well, except that the cupcakes were completely tasteless. The ice cream wasn’t bad, though! I’m thinking for my 40th, I should do something a little more exciting, like spend a week traveling around New Zealand. Hey. We should all do it! Who’s up for the Bitchypoo tour of New Zealand??
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At someone’s request, I created a 2007 calendar (pay no attention to the fact that we’re practically halfway through the first month of 2007, ‘k?). I included pictures of all our cats (except Maxi, because I couldn’t find a picture I liked well enough to put in the calendar)(also, Maxi is not our cat), a couple of Maddy pictures, and some foster kitten pics. Anyway, you can get it here, if you’re interested, and I’ll leave the link up in the sidebar until the end of the month. Or until I remember to take it down, whichever happens first.
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Over the weekend, Fred and I were watching TV when the phone rang. He checked the caller ID and handed the phone to me. It was the shelter manager, calling to see how Moonman and Moondance were doing, and then to ask me if I could take a mother cat and her three kittens. They all had crusty eyes and upper respiratory infections, so she was keeping them in the bathroom to keep them away from the other cats. I had the option of picking them up that day (Saturday) or waiting until Monday ’til they’d been tested at the vet’s. I covered the phone, told Fred what was going on, and told the manager I’d pick them up Monday afternoon. We originally planned to move Moondance and Moonman to the other house, but we’re not out there every day, and I preferred to keep them here, where I could go up and hang out with them several times a day, rather than having to drive twenty minutes to get to them. Sunday, Fred and I moved the bed out of the guest bedroom and moved Moondance and Moonman into the guest bedroom. They’re very sweet, well-behaved cats and I knew that the spud wouldn’t have any problems with them (her computer is in there; I imagine when we move to Smallville and she gets to have her computer in her own room, it’ll be like Christmas for her). Monday, in a kind of convoluted way home (we stopped in Smallville to check out a leak in the ceiling of the computer room and (the real reason we stopped) leave a snack for Maxi and Newt, who hadn’t been around on Sunday, so hadn’t gotten a snack and THEY MIGHT STARVE) then drove to the shelter, then from the shelter home) we stopped by the shelter and picked up the mom and her kittens. The kittens are about three months old and slated to be spayed and neutered on Friday. They all have upper respiratory infections (though they already sound better than they did the first night) and all but one have crusty eyes, requiring the application of an ointment to their eyes three days a week. In addition, I’m pretty sure one has – or had – a urinary tract infection, because she’d get in the litter box and squat there for several minutes, eventually producing only a tiny bit of pee (I started her on amoxicillin yesterday and she seems already like she might be getting better). My hands are practically raw from all the hand-washing I’ve done since we got them (we’re hoping not to spread the upper respiratory infection to our cats). The mom is very, very sweet. A little feisty, too, but mostly sweet, and very friendly. Like all the momma cats we’ve had, she’s taken to Fred and seems to regard him as her property. Oh, and the best thing – she has a little three-inch stump of a tail that she wags, just like Mister Boogers. There are two female kittens and one male. The females are very skittish; the male is less so. He’s a bit of a Chatty Cathy and loves to walk around the room making little peeping noises for no apparent reason. I laid down on the floor for a few minutes this morning, and he curled up against me and went to sleep. He doesn’t like to be picked up, but he’ll tolerate it for a minute or two. Because I named the last batch of kittens (the Christmas kittens), Fred was given free reign to name this bunch. I actually kind of like the names he came up with. Fantine, the mom. Fantine again. She’s a tiny thing. Javert. Cosette (left) and Eponine. Cosette (standing), Eponine (brown tabby), and Javert. Yesterday afternoon I emailed Fred and said That Javert, he’s a talker. He emailed me back with “Valjean! At last, we see each other plain. M’sieur LeMeow, you’ll wear a doggie chaaaaaaaaaaaain!” Make sure you keep him away from water. Ha! (Those names are from Les Miserables, for those of you in the dark.) All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.    
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Previously 2006: “I had a double serving of beans last night/ and I’ve got some hard gas going on/ Pull my finger, baby.” 2005: Back from Maine! 2004: My parents’ Christmas decorations. 2003: And yet, show me a zit and I’m on it in two seconds flat. 2002: “IF YOU WERE THAT FUCKING INTERESTED IN HOW MUCH EVERYTHING COST, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION WHEN SHE WAS RINGING IT ALL UP!” 2001: My body gave me two birthday presents yesterday – my period (a day early) AND a mild return case of conjunctivitis. 2000: In his narcotic cough syrup-induced haze, he nodded sympathetically and hacked a big green chunk of lung onto his plate.]]>

1/9/07

Happy birthday to me! What you see above is one of the few candid pictures of me that exists (Debbie took it when we were in Pigeon Forge). Probably because I’ve been fat my entire life, I have an uncanny awareness of who’s got a camera and when it’s pointed in my direction, so I can pose or make a funny face, or hide my bulk behind a pillow. I don’t know if I was laughing or talking, but I was definitely having a good time! I don’t know that it’s a particularly flattering picture – Fred says he thinks it’s pretty good – but I like it. (And on the other end of the spectrum, Nance used a picture of me in her shout-out that made me laugh so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Hee!)

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Thanks for your nice comments about Jake. Jake is, no doubt about it, a good boy, and I’m sure he’ll be very happy in his new home. It took us four hours to get to Meridian, Mississippi yesterday to meet the guy who was taking Jake. We only had to stop four times, but most of those times were because I had to pee, rather than Jake. But here’s what dumbasses we are: about an hour into the trip, Jake sat up in the back of Fred’s car and did a little whining. “Maybe he’s car sick,” one of us suggested. “Or scared. He’s never been in a car going this fast.” “Maybe he’s hungry.” It wasn’t until about five minutes later that a light popped on over my head. “Maybe he has to pee.” Yep, he sure did! Duh. I was a little concerned about the guy who was taking Jake, because I don’t hang out on the message board Fred hangs out on (I don’t hang out on any message board these days, really.) and so I didn’t know the guy. “Does he seem like a good guy?” I asked. “Yeah, as far as I can tell,” he said. “His posts are pretty level-headed and he seems pretty sensible.” “Well, we’ve seen pictures of his dogs, and they look happy,” I said. “Yeah.” We pulled up to the gas station where the guy was waiting for us, and Fred tentatively waved at him to make sure he was the guy. He was. He was one of those guys who’s very soft-spoken and doesn’t have much to say, but I watched him watching Jake (who was wildly sniffing at every blade of grass on the area next to the gas station) and I watched him talk to Fred, and I noticed that every time he looked at Jake, he smiled. And not in a “You’ll taste mighty fine with a side of grits” way, either. No, this guy was definitely a dog person, and he liked Jake right away. Fred’s traded a few private messages with him since we got home, and it appears that Jake is adjusting pretty well. He’s timid and submissive and feeling his way around. I suspect that in a few days when he relaxes into his new home and gets to really know his new siblings (why do I suspect there’s a lot of butt-sniffing going on right about now?), he’ll be thrilled. By the way, Spot is fine. He was favoring his leg a bit yesterday, but today he seems completely back to normal. We didn’t take him to the vet (we decided to keep an eye on him instead to see how he did), but I’m still keeping an eye on him (and he looks at me like “WHY YOU KEEP LOOKING AT ME, LADY?”) just in case. He’s also getting lots of love, lots of petting, and lots of brushing (have you ever noticed that the more you brush a cat, the more fur they produce? It’s like they don’t actually have any organs or blood and guts on their insides, just more cat hair). I hadn’t noticed it while Jake was here, but last night I realized that except for Spot and Tommy, the cats had been hanging out exclusively upstairs. Last night they started coming back down, and in fact I think at one point we had all six of the cats in the living room with us, which doesn’t happen all that often. So life is going back to normal, Jake’s in a good home. It’s all good.
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While the whole thing with Jake was going on, someone I will refer to as That Jackass who posts on the board Fred hangs out on (yeah, I’m not providing a link) private messaged him, tried to get Fred to call him, and basically tried to pressure him into keeping the dog. When Fred told him that he’d found someone to adopt Jake, the guy was unhappy to hear that (!) and sent a patronizing private message asking how long we’d been married, and lecturing him that “Marriages are give and take, not one person rules.” Good god, what an asshole. “Oh! And did he tell you that if I were A GOOD WIFE, I’d submit to your will?” I bellowed, after he’d read the private message to me (you’d think the man would know better). “WHAT A JACKASS.” I love that That Jackass doesn’t know me except through what Fred has mentioned in passing, and has decided he knows that the problem is that I don’t understand that I need to shut up with all that stupid “I should have a say in this” bullshit and just submit. SUBMIT, BITCH! Yesterday morning when I woke up, I thought of That Jackass and what he’d said, and when Fred was about to step into the shower, I went into the bathroom. “Please private message That Jackass and thank him. Tell him that your wife is so incredibly grateful that she’s married to YOU and not HIM that she promised you an extra special (sexual favor)*, and it’s the best (sexual favor) you’ve ever gotten in your life.” Yesterday afternoon when we got home and were sitting in front of our respective computers and I went on the message board to read what people were saying, because I am a sucker for punishment, and That Jackass had a big old diatribe wherein he compared dogs to children and said something along the lines of “What if you brought a child home and it didn’t go well? Would you then turn around and take the child back?” Good christ. What a fucking idiot. You’d think we’d taken the dog out back and tortured him before shooting him in the head instead of finding a really good home for him. IDIOT. And now I’m going to stop thinking about That Jackass because it’s my birthday and jackasses have no place in My Special Day. *You don’t need details. Hey, my KID reads this!
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I should point out that though I refer to myself as “Not a dog person”, I love reading stories about dogs, looking at pictures of them, petting and hugging them when I see them. I just don’t necessarily want one living in my house, you know?
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Last night we let the foster kitties out of their room for a few minutes. We’d like to be able to let them out to run around the house in the evenings, because as much time as I spend in there loving on them, I don’t feel like it’s enough time and I’d like them to be able to come hang out with us while we’re watching TV. Moondance and Moonman are the first foster cats we’ve had who didn’t start rushing the door after a few days. They’re curious about what’s on the other side, but perfectly happy looking out the window and being loved and petted several times a day. I opened the door to their room, and sat down on the floor outside their room, waiting to see what they’d do. Fred encouraged them to come out and do some looking around, and after a few moments, they did. Naturally, Mister Boogers heard us talking to them, and came up to be a jerk. He growled and hissed at them, and scared them enough that they decided they wanted to just hang out in their room, thanks. We’ll give it another try tonight and see how it goes. They sure are good kitties. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither.    
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All six cats on one bed. That NEVER happens!
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Previously 2006: Happy birthday to me! 2005: No entry. 2004: Happy birthday to me! 2003: Happy birthday to me! 2002: Happy birthday to me! 2001: Happy birthday to me! 2000: Happy birthday to me!]]>

1/8/07

Jake has found a new home. I feel bad, because he is a good dog and I think he’ll make a really good pet. I’m simply unwilling to take the chance that he could do serious damage to one of the cats, and even before the incident with Spot, I wasn’t feeling a great amount of love for Jake. When you read that a dog’s life expectancy is 10 years and after spending a few days with the dog in question you think to yourself He’s a year old, which means he’ll live for another 9 years. That’s not so long. I can handle that… right?, that might be a sign that you’re not heading in the right direction. I’m not a dog person; I’m really not. It’s possible that the dog exists out there who will change that. But it’s not Jake. I understand that many of you will be disappointed, maybe angry at me, maybe in the mood to leave angry, hateful comments. It’s okay, I completely understand how you feel. But I won’t have Spot living in fear in his own home. I just won’t. And in his new home he’ll have two dogs to play with – two dogs that are big, like him – and his new daddy is an affirmed “dog person.” I think he’s better off.

* * *
I’ve made Fred promise to wait, at the very least, six months before he does the “Can we get a dog, huh, can we can we can we?!” song and dance. ::sigh::
* * *
And for those of you who asked, yes. We did adopt a dog in 2001 and ended up taking her back (to a no-kill shelter). Here’s where we got her, and here’s an explanation for why we took her back.
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At the groomer’s, bonding with a tomcat (who looks a lot like Sugarbutt from this angle). Hanging out in the doorway between the computer room and dining room. Tommy, not a fan. Still, not so much a fan.
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Moonman has seriously come out of his shell. When you go into the room, he comes right to you for a hug and pat.   “Yowza!”    
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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday. 2003: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday. 2002: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday. 2001: One more day ’til my birthday! Whoo! 2000: No entry.]]>

1/5/07

Sunday Fred: We could get a lab! Awww, look at this black lab. Isn’t he gorgeous? Oh, except labs are way too friendly… Me: Yeah, they’d be all “Come on in! Let me show you where the china is!” And we don’t need a dog. WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG. Monday Fred: Rottweilers would be good. You wouldn’t want a rottweiler coming at you, barking and growling, that’s for sure. Me: Rottweilers are pretty. WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG. Tuesday Fred: I’m reading up on the Belgian Malinois. They’re cool dogs. (Insert a bunch of stuff about the breed I didn’t listen to) Me: Moto’s a Belgian Malinois. He’s a bit of a spaz. WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG. Wednesday Fred: Maybe we don’t need a big dog. Maybe we just need one to act as kind of a burglar alarm. We could get a minpin! One of those would probably yap and yap and yap if a stranger came to the door. Me: Minpins are cute. WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG. Thursday Fred: Let’s just go to the pound and look at the dogs. Please, can we, please? Please? PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE? Me: GodDAMN, shut UP, okay! We can go look at the dogs BUT WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG. Do you understand me? NOT. We do not need a dog, I do not want a dog, NO DOG. Fred: We’ll just look! Meet Jake.

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Needless to say, I am feeling very long-suffering and put-upon today. I’m have no doubt I’ll grow to love Jake, but damn. I AM NOT A DOG PERSON. (He’s a Great Pyrenees and you can read more about him over on Fred’s site.)
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Previously 2006: Home again, home again. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: How we met. 2000: And that’s all I have to say ’bout that.]]>

1/4/07

here. Date I started addressing cards: I can’t guarantee it, but I think it was somewhere around December 3rd. Date I finished: The day after I stopped taking addresses, so December 22nd. Total cards sent out (not including family): 320. States receiving 10 or more cards: California (21), Illinois (10), Maine (11), Michigan (14), North Carolina (16), Ohio (16), Pennsylvania (11), Texas (17), Virginia (16), Washington state (12). States who don’t love me and didn’t want a card: Hawaii, Nevada, North Dakota, Rhode Island, Vermont, West Virginia, Wyoming, Washington DC. Other countries receiving cards: Canada (16), New Zealand (2), Australia (9), United Kingdom (2), Sweden (2), Netherlands (1), Portugal (1), Germany (1), Finland (1), Scotland (3), Switzerland (1), France (1) and Israel (1). Number of cards kicked back as undeliverable: Just one, because I’m a dumbass who forgot to put the stamp on the card. I put a stamp on the card and mailed it right back out; hopefully it got there before Christmas! Percentage of probability that I accidentally sent out more than one card to at least one person: 96.837. Was I terribly organized about my card sending this year?: Not terribly organized, not terribly disorganized. I’d like to say I was more organized than I expected to be, with the whole house thing going on and distracting me. Did I have a lot of fun shopping for funny cards?: I did not. What I did have a lot of fun doing was creating a personalized card this year that was AWESOME. I don’t know how on earth I’m ever going to top that card, I really don’t. For those of you who hate me and didn’t request a card, this is what it looked like:

(Inside: But he loves Santa. Happy freakin’ holidays.)
I actually ran out of cards, and about 40 of you ended up with handmade cards wherein I taped that picture to the front of a blank card and hand-wrote the message inside. Thank god for Walgreen’s and their willingness to print out 40 pictures in the space of a couple of hours. What I’ll do differently next year: Order more cards, probably. Number of cards I’ve received: As of today, 153. I had them taped to the back of the front door, the door between the hallway and kitchen, and the door to the garage. Next year I’ll have to come up with a better way of displaying them, methinks. Thanks, you guys, for the awesome cards you sent. They always make me smile! It’s amazing how many names I recognize when I’m opening cards. I took a picture of the cards I’ve received, and they’re here. I left the picture cards in the pictures I took, but blurred out all names. If your card is on that page and you don’t want it there, just say the word and I’ll blur the whole thing out, I promise.
* * *
When we were in Pigeon Forge, I think I mentioned that we did a lot of shopping. One of the things we did was to hit some of the factory outlets, and one of the factory outlets we hit was Harry & David. They had lot of stuff marked down to 50% off, and I saw some Christmas dishes I absolutely loved. I didn’t want to make an impulse purchase, though, so I decided to sleep on it. When I woke up the next day, I decided I really wanted those damn plates. I mean, we’re planning on having Christmas (at least the morning part of Christmas) at our house next year, so we really needed Christmas plates, right? I ended up getting not only the regular-sized plates I loved so much, but also appetizer plates that I fell in love with as well. And I ended up not having to pay anything for them, because my sister bought them for me, for my birthday! My sister ROCKS.
The appetizer plates. The dinner plates.
When we were in the Smoky Mountain Cat House, my mother saw some dessert plates she really liked, and she bought them. I don’t know if she bought them intending to give them to me next Christmas, or bought them for herself and decided it’d be too much of a pain in the ass to get them home unbroken or what, but she ended up giving them to me for my birthday (along with a Lowe’s gift card, which my parents decided would be funny to give me, ’cause I told them we got so many for Christmas that we would probably be able to finish out one bathroom with no cost to us!)
All in all, it was a very good birthday. And my birthday’s not ’til next Tuesday!
* * *
Tuesday night Fred and I were watching TV when the phone rang. He picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and handed it to me. It was the shelter manager, and I hoped she was calling to tell me she had some kittens for me. Instead, she asked if I was willing to take Moondance and Moonman – a couple of adult cats who’d been at the pet store for several weeks – for a couple of weeks. They’ve been in a cage together (they’re siblings), and it appears that they’re starting to get on each others’ nerves – something I noticed when I was at the pet store on Monday. Of course I was willing to take them in for a couple of weeks, so yesterday morning I went to the pet store and got them. The boy – Moonman – was perfectly willing to get into the cat carrier, but the girl – Moondance – did NOT want to get into the carrier, and I had to chase her down and wrestle her into the carrier. She’s got a very loud meow when she’s scared, and she howled all the way through the store, across the parking lot, and halfway home before she settled down. At home, I let Mister Boogers and Sugarbutt sniff at them through the carrier doors (and Mister Boogers hissed and growled at them), then shooed them out of the room, set up the litter box and food and water bowls, and opened the doors to their carriers and left the room. (I like to let the cats get a little acclimated to their surroundings before I get all up in their faces.) About an hour and a half later, I went into the cat room, and Moonman was hiding in one of the hiding places (I don’t know what to call that thing. A pyramid?) and Moondance was sniffing around, and when I walked into the room, she froze. Now, they were always perfectly friendly at the pet store, so I expected them to come over and be petted, but instead they just stared at me and looked scared. Moondance stood, frozen, in the middle of the room and stared at me. Now, here’s the thing about cats that I never really noticed before yesterday: when they want to look at something to the left of them, they move their whole heads, rather than just their eyes. Moondance, frozen in place, looked to the left of me by moving just her eyes instead of moving her whole head, and it was really kind of odd to see that happen. I eventually sweet-talked her into coming over to be petted, and now she’s relaxed enough that if you go into the room she’ll freak out a little at first, then the lightbulb goes on over her head – “Oh, they pet me, and I likes to be petted!” – and she comes over for some lovin’. He, on the other hand, is a shy little monkey, and hides in his pyramid until he decides it’s safe to come out, whereupon he walks across the room, stretching, ends up in front of the food dish and casually says “Oh, look. It’s food! Why, I suppose I could have a bite to eat…” He’s only let me pet him a few times. Maybe it’ll take a couple of days for him to relax enough to come over and demand love the way she does. Anyway, pictures! Moondance (the girl). Moonman (the boy, obviously). I’ll try to get better pictures of them. The pictures don’t convey just how pretty they are!    
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Miz Poo has claimed the basket by the computer room window as her own. She’s spent the bulk of the last two days curled up in the basket. Tommy likes to sleep in the basket upstairs in my bedroom. I think the baskets are a hit!
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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: Links. 2001: What sad, sad lives y’all must have led, to never experience the delight of whoopie pies. 2000: I’m feeling like total crap.]]>

1/3/07

* * * I spent my personal Day of Mourning wearing black and drinking a toast to the late President Gerald Ford. (A toast of low-carb cocoa, that is. I don’t think Betty would appreciate an alcoholic drink on this occasion. Or maybe Betty doesn’t give a shit what I drink. I don’t know; Betty and me, we were never all that close. She always was a cold fish.) Good ol’ Jerry Ford. Remember when he… pardoned Nixon? Yep, them were the days. Oh! And remember when he… pardoned Nixon? Yeah, that was a good one. And then he… pardoned Nixon. Can’t forget that one! Hey, give me a break. I was six when it happened. All I know is that I wanted Carter to win the presidency (and he DID, setting into motion my life-long belief that what I wants, I gets) because I wanted something new. That’s another life-long thing, always rooting for the new guy ’cause I’m bored with the old guy. I wanted Reagan ’cause I was bored with Carter (I vividly remember sitting in a history class next to my friend Patty. She was rooting for Carter, and was so incensed that I was rooting for Reagan that she wrote me an angry note consisting of “REAGAN WILL BRING US TO WAR!”, and then wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.). Is it wrong that I just went and read the Wikipedia entry on Reagan and got all nostalgic for Iran-Contra? Oh Fawn Hall, where’d ya go? Anyway. Ol’ Gerald Ford, we’ll miss you. You were so young! You died too soon! ::sob!:: Can we get another National Day of Mourning? I feel one day just isn’t enough to remember how he… Uh. Pardoned Nixon!

* * *
I spent most of the day out at the house yesterday. Fred went to the house early in the morning to let the electricians in, but while he was there waiting, the head electrician (?) called and told him that he’d been double-booked and yadda yadda yadda “You’re not as important as this other guy, so it’s going to be a few weeks before we can get to you, mm’kay?” It ended up being okay that they couldn’t come out though, because Fred rethought what he wanted the electrician to do, and we’re going to end up paying about half of what we were going to pay the other guy (though we’re also having a little less work done, too). The cool thing is that Fred told him how we’re going to finish out the top floor of the garage to use as a foster room, and the guy’s putting outlets and light receptacles up there FOR FREE because he has two cats he adopted from the shelter. Anyway, I had to be at the house by 10:30 to let the chimney guy in. He was a little late – I figured he would be, because that’s the way we roll, us country folk – and he was also a Chatty Cathy, god help me. I did my best to listen to everything he had to say (the fireplace in the dining room is well-constructed, but too deep to give out heat the way it should, for one) while pulling up coves and quarter-round from the front room. He and his helper (coworker? assistant chimney sweep?) took about an hour and a half to inspect both chimneys, clean the one in the front room (the one in the dining room didn’t need cleaning), install caps on both chimneys, and remove the woodstove and take it away. It ended up costing about $100 less than I was expecting to pay. After he left, I finished pulling up the coves and quarter-round in the front room, painted the current door I’m working on* and ate lunch. Fred showed up at the house around 3 and the electrician showed up a while later (see above re: the country and how we roll), and then the electrician was there FOREVER because he was also afflicted with Cathy Chattyism, apparently more common amongst the men of the south than you’d expect (I myself suffer from Shut-Up-And-Go-Away-itis). I replaced plugs and switches (from the ugly off-white to the pretty blinding white we prefer) until it got too dark to do so, and then I walked around picking up trash and throwing it away. After that, it was a matter of eating dinner, painting the door again, pulling nails from the quarter-round and coves I’d pulled up while Fred puttied the front room, and then we left. I think it’s safe to say that I did far more work on the house yesterday than Fred did, and he’s a big SLACKER. *It’s funny that I’m spending so much time on these doors, because once we’re living in the house, I fully intend to take down each and every door (one at a time), strip them down to the wood and paint them so they look decent. Maybe I’ll get to that in the Spring or the Fall.** **Please. Like THAT little project will ever get past the talking-about-it stage. * * * This is from one of the lights Fred took down in the front room. Do you see what happened here? Someone PAINTED the globe. With wall paint. Good lord. The ditch running alongside (but doesn’t drain into) the pond. We had a bit of rain the other day. The pond, which is as full as I’ve seen it yet. We’ll see if it stays this high. * * * Miz Poo in one of the baskets I brought home from Pigeon Forge. We visited the Smoky Mountain Cat House not once, but twice. I love the hell out of that store. I bought a ton of stuff, including this basket, and a bigger one. The cats are sniffing around it cautiously and haven’t quite decided whether they like it or not, but Miz Poo appeared to be enjoying it, at least for a few minutes.
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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: My God, I love Sam’s, have I mentioned? 2002: Why, that’s almost as exciting as the fact that my birthday’s in less than a week! 2001: Fred, being the man, is legally required to deal with all car-related crap and I, being the woman, am legally required to bitch at him until he does so. 2000: So we apparently had a 2.8 earthquake today about which I knew nothing. ]]>