11-20-07

Colin bellowed “My Ox is broken!”, I yell that every time someone’s having an issue with an animal on TAR.

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I went to the pet store yesterday and was disappointed to find that none of the KATG(2) litter had been adopted, damnit. They didn’t seem to traumatized, though, and ran around like their butts were afire for the time I was there. At least they’re not all in one cage – they’ve been split up so that the girls are in one cage and the boys are in another. I expect that adoptions will pick up after Thanksgiving and remain high right up until Christmas – at least that’s been my experience in the past few years. Fingers crossed that the kittens are adopted by next Monday!
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I got groceries yesterday, and ended up buying an extra turkey so that I can brine and roast one at a future point, maybe in December. I’m not planning on brining the turkey for Thursday because, well, I just don’t wanna. I need to get the damn thing thawed first, and I don’t want to have to do the cold-water method and then brine it and then fucking roast it, because a regular roasted turkey will be just fine, thanks. We’re going to have 6 people for dinner (Fred’s sister’s son and daughter and their significant others will stop by, but aren’t staying for dinner), and we have a ten-pound turkey and a pork roast. Other than that, we’re making the collard greens, squash casserole, and Fred’s going to make a carrot cake. Oh, and we’re making gravy. Oh, and don’t forget the cranberry sauce, he reminded me as I was driving from Target to Publix to see if there were any turkeys smaller than 15 pounds, and also because Target had no collard greens. I prefer collard greens to turnip greens, because they’re not as bitter. In case you were wondering, and I think we all know that you were. He also reminded me to pick up an extra box of confectioner’s sugar because he knew we had one box at home, but just in case. I bought a bag of confectioner’s sugar (cheaper than the box), then got home to find that way in the back, we already had a second box of the stuff. Ah well – we’ll use it up someday, right? I’ll be glad to have Thanksgiving over with so I can start (and finish, hopefully) the Christmas shopping. I want to get everything bought, wrapped, and sent by December 5th. I might be dreaming, though. I probably am. I’m going to gear up by getting my lists started tomorrow, so that when Friday dawns I can at least get a good half of everything I’ll need bought online. Maybe one year I’ll turn into one of those horrible people who gets their Christmas shopping done by Thanksgiving. Probably not, though. I can’t stand you super-prepared motherfuckers, you make all of us look bad.
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Someone asked me to pass along a message. Dear Bitchypoo readers: I can believe that, in the “Playing Favorites” poll, where you had to choose your favorite And3rson cat, the majority of you chose I could never choose just one favorite!, because you are wishy-washy, willy-nilly, noncommittal motherfuckers who can’t tell us apart and couldn’t possibly choose just one stupid cat to vote for. I can believe that Mister Boogers came in an easy second, because humans are stupid suckers for a pretty face, but super-stupid suckers for an angry, hateful, glaring face. The secret, stupidheads, is that while he’s all mean and glaring and “Ah hets yew” (fucking redneck), the truth is that Mister Boogers is actually a sweet, purring, loving cat. You kiss him on the head, he’s all “I LOVE YEW! I MEANT THAT I LOVES YEW! NO HET HERE!” You raise a paw to him, and rather than putting on his ass-kicking shoes, he rolls over onto his back and is all “Mercy, sir! I meant no insult! Please lick me on my head and be kind to me!” I can believe that Miss Momma (also known as Maxi, because That Stupid Human who doesn’t give me nearly enough snacks refuses to give in and just call her “Miss Momma” in her journal like she does in real life, I do not know WHY, it must be some stupid kind of stupid human logic) merited only five measly little votes. She doesn’t have her picture posted on the internets nearly as often as the rest of us. It’s only logical. What I cannot believe, however, is that I only got NINE GODDAMN VOTES. Nine votes?! Are you fucking KIDDING ME? How goddamn STUPID are you people? Can you not recognize the sweet, sly, subtle attractiveness of an older cat? Are you so swayed by the stupid, happy-go-lucky orange cats and the faux-angry glaring cat and the ugly eye-boogery bitchy cat that you can overlook me completely? Are you SHITTING ME? I thought you humans were stupid and evil and also kind of ugly, but I had no idea until now JUST how stupid you are. It stuns me. Whores, every goddamn last one of you. Ye shall know the wrath of my hatred, and ye shall beg forgiveness, but THERE IS NO FORGIVENESS FOR YOU IN MY COLD BLACK HEART, you fuckers. Respectfully, Spot J. And3rson.
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I sure do love this little goofball of a cat. I love the way Punki (left) is drinking out of the water bowl and Felicia is licking the water off the rim of the bowl. Such sweet girls. “What?” “Can’t a girl hide in a kitty condo without you flashing that thing at her all the time?!” Bath time! The sisters are fascinated by that little pig toy – the tail pulls out, and then when you release it, it goes back in, vibrating the entire time. ***************************** Stinkerbelle illustrates what a chortle looks like.
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Previously 2006: Meme-licious. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: “I JUST SAID THAT!” 2002: At least it knocked Johnny Poopoopants out of the loop. 2001: How the hell can you cheat on Survivor, for the love o’ god? 2000: Oh, you’re giving us the COT free of charge? Well, let me do a friggin’ happy dance for that!” 1999: No, I’m the same old awful, lazy, horrid person I always was]]>

11-19-07

Dust bath hole for the chickens, or outdoor litter box for the cats? Why not BOTH?!

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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: Questions answered. 2003: Pictures. 2002: Just another example of my weirdness. 2001: God in heaven, has the WORLD GONE NUTS? 2000: “Oh, you’re giving us the COT free of charge? Well, let me do a friggin’ happy dance for that!” 1999: “Lookit them buildings, Fray-uhd! They’s so TALL! And look! A homeless person. Give him money, Fred! Give him money!” ]]>

11-18-07

scoot on over to Donna’s site and help her Pay it Forward, won’t you?

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This month seems to somehow be simultaneously screaming by and plodding along. I hit the “fuck this” wall as far as exercising goes, and didn’t do the elliptical yesterday or today. I also hit the “fuck this” wall on cleaning the entire house every Saturday, but I did dust and vacuum yesterday, did a lot of rearranging and decluttering and laundry, so I’m considering the day not a total loss. Local reader J kindly offered us a bunch of boxes of canning jars that her father and his fiancee had cleared out of a deceased relative’s house, and we were thrilled to accept. Not only did she give us the jars for FREE, she and her fiance delivered them to us yesterday. I could get used to that kind of service! I haven’t gotten a final count on the number of jars we’ve got, but the first load of them is in the dishwasher being cleaned, and I imagine we’ll be running the dishwasher at least a couple more times. Thanks, J! Spanky actually made an appearance while we were standing in the front room talking yesterday. In fact, he appeared twice, went slinking around the room, stretching and showing off. Not the scaredy-cat he used to be – it’s only taken him 11 years to get used to the idea that strange humans aren’t necessarily going to snatch him up and torture him. The other cats evaporated, though, and weren’t to be seen. Since we didn’t have much taped on the DVR, we ran to the movie store yesterday afternoon, and last night we watched Evan Almighty and Catch and Release, both of which I really kind of liked. I didn’t expect to like Evan Almighty, given that I haven’t heard a single good thing about the movie, but I did. Steve Carell is usually pretty damn funny, and this remains one of my favorite movie moments – it always makes me laugh ’til I cry – and so if you’re looking for an entertaining, not terribly deep movie, you could do worse. I liked Catch and Release, too, because I like Jennifer Garner and I love Kevin Smith, but my god – the way Kevin Smith throws “sir” into every other goddamn sentence just gets all over my nerves. Also, Timothy Olyphant needs a good hard smack. Otherwise, good enough movie. A little predictable, but worth the watch. For tonight, we have Sicko and some crappy horror movie Fred chose, and of course there’s always The Amazing Race, woohoo! For now, I have jars to look through, laundry to fold and put away (my laundry didn’t dry on the line yesterday, despite hanging out there for ten hours, so I’m running it through the dryer this morning. SUCK.), litter boxes to clean out, and bathrooms to scrub. Fun!
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So, back at the end of September, we had foster kittens – five sisters – and we only had them for a few days. They passed through to Petsmart pretty quickly. Dulcinea got adopted fast, but the other four stayed at the pet store, and every week I’d go in on Mondays to clean, and I’d say “WHAT are you girls still doing here? Are people nuts? You’re so pretty and sweet and friendly!” I’d give them some extra love, put them back in their cage, and tell them to get adopted before next Monday. They didn’t, though. Last Monday when I was there, I came up with an idea, and when I got home I suggested to the shelter manager that I take the KATG2 bunch to the pet store, put them in the big cage where the four sisters were residing, then bring the sisters home for a few weeks of R&R. She was okay with that, so on Friday I did just that. The sisters are having a good time hanging out in the kitten room, racing around after each other, and doing lots of napping. Skittles is spending most of her time under the dresser – she’s interested in playing, but not so much in being petted – but I think that given a little time, she’ll come around. Punki (front) and Elle chill out. Felicia is such a sweet little goofball. Skittles hides under the dresser. “I vant to be alone.” Punki, ready to pounce. Felicia and the Crazy Eyes. Pretty Elle poses. Play time for Punki. *************************** Brudderly love. Tommy’s working on his “Booger hate” look. Bath time for brudders.
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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: Apparently I’ve got the Jaws of Doom. 2004: Reader questions. 2003: Of course, my immediate response is “Are you on drugs???” 2002: I think that everyone there had a little cartoon question mark over their head, ’cause I sure as shit did. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry. 1999: No entry.]]>

11-17-07

Christmas plates out of the garage where they’re stored, so we can eat off of them. I’ve been assured by several people that it’s not tacky to serve Thanksgiving dinner on Christmas plates, so y’all just shut up.

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Tufted Titmouse at the feeder. (flickr) Chickadees at the feeder. I sure do love chickadees. They’re so freakin’ CUTE. (flickr)
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Yesterday was a Newt-filled kinda day. I don’t know why, but Newt adores sleeping on that box. Keeping an eye on crazy little Spooky and the straw. Facing down Spooky. “STOP STARING AT ME, LITTLE KITTEH!” Eyeballing the food dish. Heading for the food dish, while Spooky darts in to take a sniff. Deuce’s turn to do some sniffin’. I don’t know what was going on on the other side of the cat carrier, but it sure made Newt bring out the Crazy Eyes.
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Previously 2006: Here’s Doctor Robyn’s list of diagnoses. 2005: Cat hair on the seat of your pants! It’s the Next Big Thing! 2004: Do you suppose that cats realize that when we kiss them, it’s a sign of affection? 2003: NAS-TAY. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Thanks, y’all, for your emails regarding hamster sex. 1999: So, I didn’t get the kitten. ]]>

11-16-07

scoot on over to Donna’s site and help her Pay it Forward, won’t you?

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Not so much a question, but I think you should have a poll where we all vote for who our favorite kitty is. It’d be interesting to see who keeps the readers comin’ back! Your wish, my command!
Playing favorites.
Who’s your favorite And3rson kitteh?
Spot
Spanky
Miz Poo
Mister Boogers
Sugarbutt
Tom Cullen
Stinkerbelle
Maxi/ Momma Kitty
Newt
I could never choose just one favorite!
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Question for Friday, oh house cleaning queen: My husband exploded something in the microwave this weekend (chili?) and, of course, did not clean it up. There is now a disgusting dried gunk in my microwave. Any tips on cleaning (besided getting DH to do it, because that’ll never happen)? And thanks for reminding me to wash my Dyson filter. I was going to answer this, but I didn’t have to! Quick microwave cleaning tip: I put 1/2 a lemon in a big bowl of water and cook for 5 minutes. The steam will unstick all of the gunk and wipe right out. The lemon just gives it a fresh scent. I read this somewhere years ago. and Putting a bowl of vinegar in the microwave and heating it for a few minutes works wonders too for softening the gunk up enough to wipe it out. and Even just a cup or bowl filled with water in your microwave will work. Heat it long enough so that it boils and produces some steam. That will help moisten the dried up gunk so that it will come off with minimal work. and Shit, I just spray my microwave with whatever cleaner (usually Windex) I have in my hand and walk away for a few minutes. Come back and it wipes clean. Y’all actually get a bowl of water and turn the microwave on? Wow. Apparently I have y’all beat in the TOO LAZY to be bothered department. Hee! and Mr. Clean Erasers also work great for cleaning dried-on stuff. I usually just spray down the microwave with my favorite cleaning spray, wipe down counters and do dishes while it penetrates, then go back and wipe out the microwave. If it’s got a lot of dried-on crap, though, the microwaved bowl of water (I use water with a squirt of lemon juice) or vinegar does a really good job of softening it so it’s easy to wipe off. And speaking of the Mr. Clean Erasers, I actually used one to scrub the paint off my hands Tuesday, and it worked really well. I love me some Mr. Clean Erasers! (Except that some people react badly to Mr. Clean Erasers used on the skin! Don’t try this at home, kids.) (Thanks, Carrie!)
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Whew you had me worried. I am seriously thinking about a Dyson for my next vacuum and mostly because of your reviews. How does it do on hardwood/linoleum type floors? I am thinking of putting little carpet in my house pretty soon. It does a really good job – especially when the filter is clean! I was all grumpy because it just wasn’t picking up the little pieces of litter the cats track all over the damn place, but once I cleaned the filter, it worked like a charm. I LOVE MY DYSON.
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I would rather poke sharp things in my eyes than ever paint anything ever. My enthusiasm shows in my skill level. I will never be asked to participate in anything that requires painting again. I have made sure of that. I took a page from my childrens’ book and did such a crappy job that no one will ever ask again, and if they do, Pookie will simply show them my handiwork and they will backtrack quickly. Man, I hate painting. In case you couldn’t tell. Does anyone need some painting done? Because it appears that Contrary secretly very much enjoys painting and can’t wait to do some more!
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Robyn, I was just reading a few of your older entries and see that you read Winter Solstice by Rosamunde Pilcher. She is my favorite author and Coming Home is her best book IMHO. Anyway, have you read any of her son’s (Robin Pilcher) books? Also, have you read Jan Karon’s Mitford series? Jan has begun a new series and I couldn’t be happier! I read An Ocean Apart by Robin Pilcher and enjoyed it a lot (I don’t know why it isn’t listed on the reading page, I remember reading and enjoying it. Maybe I read it before I started the reading page?). I’ve seen Jan Karon’s books in the bookstores and Target, but haven’t tried reading any of them yet. I actually had one in my cart a few weeks ago, but I’m seriously trying to cut down on the amount of books I buy (at least until I make a serious dent in the ones I already have), so I ended up putting it back!
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I think you should have a picture of each cat (including the two who aren’t yours) under the Cast link. Sorry, I’m getting senile, I can’t always keep them straight! Besides, you have E’gar the car’s picture there; surely the cats are just as important. That picture over there in the left sidebar that says “Our cats” on it? If you click on it, it will take you to this page, where there are pictures of all the cats (except Maxi and Newt, but only because I haven’t gotten around to it yet), and if you mouse over any of the pictures, their names will show up. Or if you prefer, you could go to the cast list and click on the link that says “The kitties” and that will bring you to the same page. I’d note that you had to scroll past the “The kitties” link to get to the part of the cast page where there’s a picture of the car, but I’m too nice to point that out.
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Ummm.. I hate to point out the obvious, but when you can no longer tell the cats apart – you may have too many! I’m not arguing with that! I said to Fred the other night, “You know, I NEVER intended Maxi and Newt to be indoor cats!”, and he was all amazed and surprised and said “REALLY?” YES, really. Jesus christ – they have food and a warm house on the front porch and they made it through last winter JUST FINE without ever coming in the house – why does he suddenly feel the need to bring them into the house? I ASK YOU?!
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Are you still stitching? i haven’t heard you mention it in a while.. I don’t even remember the last time I cross-stitched. I think about it, and I’m sure I could get quite a bit of cross-stitching done in front of the TV, especially now that I’m not canning all the time, but I haven’t bothered to get anything out just yet. I will, eventually – my M.O. is to cross-stitch like mad for months, then not stitch a single cross for months, then go back to madly stitching. It’s only a matter of time.
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Would I be a whore too if I agreed he is the tiniest bit ratty looking? Hmmm. I can’t speak for Spot; I posed your question to him so that you could get the response right from the horse’s mouth. “I am NOT ‘ratty looking’ and YOU, M’dme, are a pure-d grade-a gutter slutting WHORE. Good day to you.” (flickr)
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I have a cat question. About two weeks ago I adopted a little 3.5 yo female. Some history-before going into the rescue group she had been kept outside even in very very cold weather (such as -25 C or colder). Shortly after being taken in she gave birth to ten! kittens, not her first litter. She is now spayed and the kittens have homes. She is very affectionate to me but is uncertain about the environment, which is a very nice condo. She is now an inside cat. If I turn on the radio or tv she spooks, likewise if I slide open a closet door or whatever. Also, she is on a different body clock than me. I am a day person, she is a nightowl. This is very extreme. She comes out from under the bed when I am going to bed. I’m not forcing anything but are there some things I could do to ease this transition? Thank you. Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything you can do – it’s just going to take time. It’s only been a couple of weeks, so I’m sure that as time goes by, she’ll relax a little. That’s my take on it – readers, have any suggestions?
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So I was thinking, since Dooce does her Chuck calendar, you should do a kitties one! Didn’t you used to have some things to buy that featured Spot? I would certainly buy a kitty calendar-I love the pictures you take of them. I had things to buy that featured Tubby, and I think there were some featuring this picture of Flossie, and I did actually sell a couple of And3rson Kitties calendars last year. I’m in the process of slogging through the last year’s worth of cat pictures I’ve taken, and hopefully right around Thanksgiving there’ll be two calendars available – one of just And3rson Kitties, and one of foster kitties. I’ll probably link them in the sidebar on the right until after the New Year.
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I am giving my cat some wet cat food, about half a can a day or I may start giving him half in the morning and half at night. Anyway he won’t eat the kind that comes in the really small, I suppose you might call them single serving, cans so I end up opening a larger can, scooping out half and putting the opened can in a plastic sandwich baggie into the fridge as the can says it should be refrigerated after opening. The thing is that I don’t think my cat is overly crazy about wet, cold cat food and I can’t say as I blame him. Can I just leave the can on the counter in the baggie during the day, as long as it isn’t in the sun or getting really hot will it be okay for several hours? I wouldn’t leave it overnight though if I’m not going to give him the rest later on the same day. OR should I put the cat food in the fridge and microwave it a little to get the chill out when I give it to him the next time? Does anyone do this? Doesn’t it sound gross to put cat food in the microwave??? (I also give my cat dry food, don’t think I am starving him on half a can of cat food a day. He seems to need more moisture in his diet because his bowel movements have been really dry and constipated.) I’ve warmed up wet food for cats before – most cats don’t like their food cold, because they’re all picky bastards. Nah, it’s not gross to microwave cat food, just don’t do it for too long – start with five minutes seconds and work up from there, if you need to. Check the food temperature with your finger before “serving” it – you don’t want your baby getting a burned tongue. I wouldn’t recommend leaving the food out, because you just never know what’ll start growing in just a few short hours. On the other hand, another reader posted just a while ago: Jen: I feed my kitty half a can in the a.m. and half a can in the p.m. but I leave it out on the counter and it’s fine. Also you might want to pick up one of those plastic canned cat food covers they have at PetSmart or Petco. They are cheap and work well! So, there you go.
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What, if anything, did you do for comfort/consolation after Tubby died and Fancypants disappeared? Our beloved kitty died this week, and I could use some ideas. Awww, I’m so sorry for your loss! I can’t think of anything specific that we did after Tubby died, although the entry I wrote about him was pretty cathartic. We talked about him a lot, looked at pictures of him, and I know I cried a lot – I actually went to the grocery store to do some shopping later the day he died, and while hiding in the frozen foods section had to call Fred to help me stop from bursting into tears. Everything I did for the first few days seemed like a milestone – the first time Tubby wasn’t sitting at the back door bitching to go out, the first time Mister Boogers had no one to snuggle with, the last bit of Tubby hair I vacuumed up from under the dresser in the bedroom, where he liked to hang out. The only thing that healed the loss of him was time.
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1.) Have you ever broken any bones? If so, what and when? I never have – and I kind of hope I never do! 2.) Our cat Daisy seems to be not eating as much and when she does eat, she barfs it back up. She has a vet appointment for later today but do you know of any reason why this could be occurring? I know you’re not a vet but you have had enough experience with cats that you might have had this happen before. I have no idea. The few times we’ve had to deal with that behavior, the reason ran the gamut from an internal blockage (Miz Poo) to absolutely nothing wrong at all (Spanky). It really could be anything – I hope Daisy turns out to be okay!
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Hi Robyn! I have a question about WLS. I am considering getting the lap-band & I would love to know your opinion. When you were deciding about your surgery did you have the option of the lap-band? Why did you choose gastric bypass over lap-band? I am leaning towards the band for 2 reasons: 1) cost, I am self-pay & it will cost approx. $12,000 which is much less than gastric bypass surgery and 2)it can be adjusted if I ever want to have another child. I am sure you did extensive research on all the WLS options and I would love to hear your thoughts on the lap-band. Thanks! Honestly, if my insurance company had been willing to pay for it, I would have had the lapband. Not only is it safer, but I’ve also read that at the two-year (maybe three-year?) mark, lapband and RNY statistics are just about the same for weight loss – in fact, I think lapbanders go on to keep losing, whereas RNY’ers tend to stop at that point. So yeah, the only reason I went with RNY was because my insurance covered it. Had they opted not to cover RNY either, chances are good that I would have gone on to pay for lapband surgery privately.
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Ok, here’s a question, have you written your giving-birth-experience on here? I’m due in 8 days and would love to read about it. It was super easy right? And not painful at all right? And just generally wonderful right? That river in Egypt is where I’m living right now. It was so super easy I went dancing the next night! Okay, maybe not. I don’t have a fun going-into-labor story, sadly. I went in for an appointment with my obstetrician three days after my due date. He had an ultrasound machine – not a common thing 19 years ago – and the nurse practitioner did an ultrasound and then measured to see how big the spud had gotten. When it was decided that she was going to weigh in the area of 10 pounds, 4 ounces, the nurse practitioner called the obstetrician, and he got on the phone with me, said “Looks like you’re pregnant with a moose. We’d like to do a c-section.” I agreed, they scheduled it, and the spud’s father and I went home and frantically cleaned, rearranged, and packed. I opted for general anesthesia – if I had to do it over again, I think I’d opt to stay awake for the procedure – and it went quickly and there were no problems. The problems didn’t come ’til later. First, I reacted to the general anesthesia by vomiting my brains out. Then I developed a high fever, and they couldn’t figure out why. I ended up staying in the hospital for a week after the spud was born. She was ready to go home after a couple of days, but since I stayed there, they kept her there as well. Thankyajesus for health insurance, that’s all I have to say. You will be FINE. You just have to get through a few not-very-fun hours, and as soon as you’re through them, you’ll have a BAYBEE! You’re going to name your baby after me, right? Uh… right? 🙂
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OK, you totally sold me on vistaprints! I am getting my xmas cards there too. How long do they take to receive? You can choose from different speeds of shipping. I think I opted to get mine in about a week, and I didn’t consider the shipping charges to be too exorbitant, personally.
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Is the Miss Spud going to come home for Christmas? No, she won’t be visiting Alabama for Christmas. Her boyfriend will have just gotten home from Basic Training, and I expect she’ll be spending lots of time with him, along with working as much as she can.
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I haven’t googled yet, but I want to know how you tell the difference between a vole and a mouse. Because if I found one of those, I’d say, “Oh! A mouse!” The snout looks a little short and the body looks a little stocky, but other than that, it looks like a field mouse to me. I always thought voles were bigger, like rat sized. The only reason I knew that that was a vole and not a mouse is because Fred told me so. I have NO idea how he knows that’s a vole – it looks exactly like an adorable little field mouse to me, too!
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Ok, it is Kitty Survivor. You have to vote one cat off Crooked Acres. Which will it be? And why? I do not believe I care for this game, and this will piss Fred off, but if I absolutely had to vote one of them off, it would be Maxi. She’s a bitey little bitch and I just didn’t bond with her as much as the other cats, I guess. To tell the truth, she scares me a little, like she might take it into her mind to go NUTS and chew my face off in my sleep. If Fred got to vote one of the cats off Crooked Acres, he’d vote for either Spot or Miz Poo, because he’s a horrible, hateful man.
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I’ve got it! I know that you’ve mentioned that Fred sort of acts like he wants to get some goats. Have you heard of the fainting goats? This if for real! Check out Wikipedia and the Fainting Goats Society. You HAVE to get some of these and then show us videos. Check out YouTube for videos, as well. They’re hilarious! Oh, Fred does NOT “sort of act” like he wants goats. Fred is harassing the motherfucking shit out of me because he SO DESPERATELY wants goats. I DO NOT WANT GOATS. DO NOT. Do I want goats? Why, no. No I do not. I’m okay with a cow or two, or maybe a couple of pigs, but goats? No. I don’t want them. Fred desperately wanted a cow or two until I said “We should get a cow or two”, and now? He doesn’t want any cows. He wants goats. Desperately. And he can get as many goddamn goats as he wants, and he can SHOVE THEM UP HIS ASS because I DO NOT WANT GOATS. And I can guarantee you that WHEN he goes and gets himself some goats, and it DOES NOT WORK OUT because goats are cute, but they’re a pain in the ass, I will say “I NEVER WANTED ANY GODDAMN GOATS” and he will say “You never said that!” and then I will KILL HIM. And when we first talked about the idea of having goats, last Fall, I said “We should get some fainting goats!”, and he was all appalled and indignant and said “We’re not going to get fainting goats just so you can run at them and watch them fall over!”, and what did he say to me not TWO DAYS AGO? He said “We should get some fainting goats!” AS IF HE’D NEVER HEARD THE IDEA OFFERED AT ANY POINT IN THE PAST. As if it were an idea that sprang directly from his own brow. I need to go lay down.
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Do farm raised eggs, where the chickens are fed fresh veggies and strawberry pie, have less cholesterol than store bought eggs? Mother Earth News says that eggs from free range chickens have 1/3 less cholesterol. Alls I know is that they taste REALLY DAMN GOOD.
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How would I go about getting on the christmas card list? I just love getting something in the mail that isn’t junk or a bill. I would also be happy to reciprocate if you are interested. I’ll put something up at the top of each entry, starting the day after Thanksgiving (I refuse to start any earlier than that!), and y’all can send your names and addresses at that point. I plan to start sending cards out on December 1st, and as always, I’ll happily send cards to all countries, not just the US.
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what did you think of Eat, Pray, Love? I read the Eat part, just skimmed the Pray part and haven’t read further. Found it just too tiresome. I liked it, though there were certainly parts that dragged a lot. I didn’t LOVE it the way so many people do, but I thought it was worth a read. And now I want to visit Bali!
* * *
I know you’ve answered this question before to some degree, but in your experience, what is the best way to introduce a new cat to the household, particularly if the new cat is a a male and the current resident cat is a skittish female? Do your female cats get squicked out if the male cats use the same litter boxes that they do? Do the male cats gobble all the food? We’ve always just thrown the new cat into the situation and let them all work it out. Well, when we got Miz Poo she was pretty small, so I kept her around me as much as possible, but she was off exploring on her own pretty quickly, and was able to hold her own with the other cats. I do know that it’s widely recommended that you keep the new cat sequestered for a while and let the cats sniff at each other under the doorway for a few days before “introducing” them, but like I said, we’ve never done that. The female cats don’t seem to care about what the males do in the litter boxes – we have three litter boxes, and they all use them with no issues. It’s funny that you ask if the male cats gobble all the food, because the truth is that the females (especially Stinkerbelle) are the big pigs around here. No one goes hungry, of course, but if Princess Stinkerbelle thinks it’s time for her to eat, the boys better just get their asses away from the food bowls. Same with Miz Poo.
* * *
Say goodbye to the KATG2 kittens. They’re off to the pet store this afternoon. But fear not – I’ll be returning from the pet store with some girls you’ve seen before. More about them (and pictures!) tomorrow. Jesikat. Rhian. Peyton. The concerned “What is SHE doing?!” look on Deuce’s face is cracking me up. Malley. Such a pretty boy! Rhian. I love this girl! Spooky. Dancin’ Deuce, with Malley looking on. Jesikat is rather fond of straws. Spooky, also fond of straws! “So long, farewell, Auf wiedersehen, good night!” Happy travels, KATG2-ers. Get adopted quickly, please.
* * *
Previously 2006: He’s such a know-it-all motherfucker. 2005: Elizabeth Wurtzel strikes me as spectacularly self-absorbed (pot! kettle! black!) 2004: Stuff I’ve bought. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: “Hey!” I said, shaking the cage. “Stop that!” 1999: No entry.]]>

11-15-07

* * * I would tell y’all that it makes me very, very sad that so many of you didn’t know that the Dyson filter needs to be cleaned regularly, except that I think I had mine for about a year and a half before I realized it. There’s a decent little movie here on how to take your filter out, and even how to check for clogs. The guy doesn’t actually show you how to clean the filter, but you just take it out of the hard case and rinse it until the water runs clear. He mentions soap and water, but I don’t believe I’ve ever used soap, just very warm water. I think there are actually written instructions on the hard case on how to clean the filter and case. Just be very careful that everything is completely dry before you put it back together and vacuum. You don’t want a wet or even slightly damp filter in your Dyson, because I imagine that would cause some serious issues. Happy vacuuming!

* * *
Yesterday I turned on the TV and the DVR to watch those crazy Real Housewives bitches, and after I watched that (and I’ll admit I did feel sorry for Lauri because Josh moving in with George’s ex-wife clearly has her all torn up, but that kid is fucking BRILLIANT. He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d taken away all her plastic surgery money.) I decided to go delete Nip/Tuck from the recording schedule, which is when I realized that another episode had recorded, so I went to delete that, and the summary of the show had me wondering “Huh. Who the fuck is Eden, aside from a Bad Girl, because I think that if you name your child Eden, you are clearly sentencing her to a life of slutty hussyhood.”, and so I had to watch the episode to see what the fuck was going on. All this is to ask you – why the HELL would a plastic surgeon do examination after examination of an 18 year-old’s sensitive areas without a NURSE present? I’ve never been to a plastic surgeon, but I plan to visit one in the next few months, and given that I am a female who will be mostly nekkid and the surgeon will be squeezing my flab, I expect that there will be a nurse present. Because it’s just GOOD BUSINESS PRACTICE. JESUS. And back to the Real Housewives, when I heard that Vicki and her husband are downsizing from a 5,000 square foot home to a 4,000 square foot home, my heart broke for her. They’ll be all bumping into each other all the time. How can they stand to have such a TINY house? And spending $250,000 dollars (JANE) on the pool area, what the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK? That is some crazy-ass shit. Lastly, Jeana can just shut up with her “I don’t dare to leave Colton alone because he’ll get into trouble!” one second, then the next “We’re off to Berkley! Buh-bye!” and leaving Colton home all alone the next. Please.
* * *
Over the weekend, I – with much help from Fred – put together this year’s Christmas card and uploaded it to VistaPrint (they have, far and away, the best price on photo cards. I hope like hell that they’re good quality card.). After dithering about it for a few more days, I decided to go ahead and order them last night. I looked to see how many cards I sent out last year (330), and decided to order 350. But unfortunately, that’s not one of the quantities VistaPrint offers. You can buy 250, but the next higher quantity is 500. I decided to buy 250 and then 100, and though I tried my best, I couldn’t figure out how to have both in my virtual shopping cart, so I decided to place the orders separately. I had placed the order for 250, and I was about to go back to the front page, when I noticed that VistaPrint was offering me – if I ordered them in the next ten minutes – a 10% discount on another 250 cards. I didn’t need that many but I thought that clicking on the “Order them now!” button would at least take me to a “Finalize your order” page, and then I could change the quantity to 100 without having to go through the whole process again. Hey. Guess what clicking on the “Order them now!” button does? Why, oddly enough, it orders them now. Without you having to go through the process of finalizing anything else. You click the button, they’re ordered. Ta daaaa! Hooray. Now, I get a few more card requests every year, but not anything like 170 more. I explained the issue to Fred, and he said “Just save the extras and send them out next year!” “I can’t do that. That’s tacky! I’m not sending the same damn card out two years in a row!” “You could cross-reference the Christmas card lists, and whoever doesn’t request a card this year but does next, you could send them this year’s card next year!” “Oh, right! That sounds like something GUARANTEED to put me into the Christmas spirit!” I went to the VistaPrint page and started looking for a way to contact customer service. After a few minutes of looking, I was horrified to find that the only way to contact customer service was to CALL them. I think I might have mentioned that I do not enjoy talking on the phone, especially to strangers, and ESPECIALLY especially to strangers who would surely be located in another country and who would surely speak with an accent, and I would feel like an idiot asking them to repeat themselves. (Last time I had to talk to someone in another country on the phone, it was a woman in India who had to make changes to my Expedia itinerary before I went to Maine in August, and when I asked her to repeat herself for the third time in our five-minute conversation, bitch GAVE ME ATTITUDE. It gripes me that you have to fucking call and talk to a person to accept changes in your itinerary. How ’bout you just give me the option of clicking a “Yeah, whatever, just GIVE ME MY GODDAMN TICKETS” button, Expedia? How about that?) I begged Fred to call them for me, and groaning and moaning and bitching (but mostly kidding), Fred called them for me. He was on the phone for about ten minutes, and first they tried to convince him that the 500 cards was an AMAZING price, and I’m sure it is, but it’s also 150 more cards than we need, and what the fuck do you do with 150 extra cards? Once he repeated three times that he was positive he didn’t want 500 cards, they tried to tell him that they couldn’t change the order, and when he asked if he could just cancel the order and place it again, there was some bullshit like they couldn’t hear him. Finally – surprisingly – they were able to cancel the first order, then he had to go through some automated system to place the correct order, and now we’re all set. Or maybe we’re not. I wouldn’t be too terribly surprised to find 850 cards on the front doorstep in a few days.
* * *
“Hey you GUYS, it’s snackin’ time!” **************************** “You come here, and I will bite your head off. OFF! RIGHT OFF YOUR BODY!” “Okay, no, wait. You have a little shmutz right here. Let me take care of that…” “Halp! I am being eaten alive by a fearsome, cruel monster!” “HALP, I SAY!”
* * *
Previously 2006: When I thought of how crappy the doors would look, he gave me a long-suffering look and said in his “Look how patient and long-suffering I am” voice, “I’ll paint them.” 2005: “Fascinating.” 2004: All your frog are belong to us. 2003: No entry. 2002: I am freezing to death. 2001: I think I need to get a life… 2000: In other words, Robyn is a total spaz about her eyes, comprende? 1999: On the way into work, and the whole time I worked today, I reconsidered that reconsideration.]]>

11-14-07

Eat, Pray, Love. I finished a little after 7 and did my usual morning stuff – writing and posting an entry, scooping litter boxes, sweeping the laundry room, making sure the food bowls were filled, cleaning the kitchen – before heading out to the garage. I think I mentioned last week that I was planning to start lifting weights again. After I did my 35 minutes on the elliptical, I did just that, doing three sets of two exercises that targeted my chest, two that targeted my back, and two that targeted my abs. I got back into the house a few minutes after 9:00, and after a little cooling down and web surfing, I changed into an old t-shirt and pants, and headed out to the shed that Fred finished building over the weekend. I told him several times during the building of the shed that if he wanted, I’d paint it for him, and he decided to take me up on that offer. In fact, he was even helpful enough to make sure everything I needed was waiting for me in the shed. I started painting around 9:30, and except for a short break around 11:00 for breakfast, I kept on painting until almost 2:00. In retrospect, I’m not sure that a day in which I was planning on spending hours painting a shed was the best day to start lifting weights but, y’know, whatEVER. My back is really sore today – not unable-to-move sore, but it’s definitely letting me know that the muscles back there did some work yesterday. I got the entire shed rough painted and even got a second coat of paint put on one end before I got to the bottom of the second can of paint and decided it was time to stop painting for the day. I got inside, took my shower, went and spent some time with the kittens, and just as I sat down to eat lunch, I heard thunder. A little while later, it started pouring. I’m hoping the shed was dry enough by the time it started raining, but I haven’t been out to look because I really just don’t even want to know.

* * *
Lately, my Dyson hasn’t really been All That, and I’ve been wondering what the hell was going on. The last time I had an issue with it was last Spring when I was vacuuming with it and accidentally sucked up a couple of nails, which created a tear in the hose and impeded the Incredible Dyson Sucking Power. I ordered a replacement hose and Fred put it on, and all was pretty well. Lately, though, it just wasn’t picking stuff up the way it used to, and I worried that maybe the whole “Never loses suction!” promise was bullshit and perhaps the Dyson needed to be put out to pasture. And then it occurred to me that it had been a little while since I’d cleaned the filter (which you’re supposed to do every six months), and so I took the filter out of the Dyson and took it into the kitchen to clean it, and it was just horrifying. It was caked with (shocking!) cat hair and when I rinsed it under warm water, the crap that rinsed out looked like mud. It took quite a while of rinsing to get it completely clean, and then I let it sit a few days to dry. Yesterday I put the filter back in the Dyson and vacuumed the downstairs, and the difference was just amazing. That Dyson Suction was back and kicking ass. Amazing what a little maintenance will do, ain’t it?
* * *
CRRRRRRRRRRAZY eyes! SLEEEEEEEEPY eyes! ****************************** Buffy’s all “Hey, guys! Whatcha doin’? Can I play too?” and Tommy and Sugs are all “What do YOU want? Go away. You have COOTIES.”
* * *
Previously 2006: “I CUT THROUGH THE GODDAMN EXTENSION CORD AND THEN I MADE THE CHAIN COME OFF THE CHAINSAW!” 2005: Senator Stanley J. Boogerton. 2004: No entry. 2003: So I’m not reporting that. At all. Never happened! 2002: Riley’s response? “Nuh uh!” 2001: Dr. Phil looked at me judgmentally, and I began to babble. 2000: And I don’t even like cherry Poptarts! 1999: Fred has agreed to let me adopt the kitten! ]]>

11-13-07

(Fred wrote this section.) Robyn leaned in and kissed me goodbye. She was off to the pet store to do her volunteer thing with the kitties, and I was parked in front of the computer to check the day’s news until it was late enough for me to go outside and work on my shed without worrying about disturbing the neighbors. I’ve been looking forward to today, because the day off for the holiday gives me an extra day to work around the property. Early in the morning on a day off is one of my favorite times. I spend two or three hours surfing, plopped in my chair in my undies and a t-shirt with my big bubba mug of coffee in hand. It’s a great way to start the day relaxed, which I usually need because once I start working on things I tend to get stressed over the number of things that go wrong. It’s annoying when something that should take an hour, like changing plugs on a truck, ends up taking three. Or changing transmission fluid takes half the day because the auto parts store gave you the wrong part. Twice. I was getting up to refill my coffee when I heard it: a loud crash from the laundry room, as if one of the cats had run into the door at full speed. When you have a houseful of cats, one of them is always doing something attention-worthy. As I walked through the kitchen, Miss Stinkerbelle came racing out of the laundry room with her tail tucked between her legs. She looked guiltily up at me as she raced by. There was apparently a committee meeting going on between the screen door and the inside door. When I got into the laundry room I saw no less than three cat hind ends sticking out from that small space. I figured one of them was the cause of the loud sound, and the other two were there to investigate, like the Hardy boys. I pulled the inner door open wide to see what was up. There was a tiny squirrel cowering on the threshold, his dark eyes wide with fear. Though he’d been frozen in fear, when he saw me he squealed in fright, which caused all three cats to pounce. In an instant, I was standing in a cartoonish whirlwind of cat and squirrel, still kind of dumbfounded by the whole situation. I did what I thought was best: I pushed the screen door open for him to go outside. The squirrel raced down the back steps, closely followed by the cats. They took turns swatting him and biting at him, and the whole caravan worked its way along the house, over the air conditioners, and to the lone tree in the fenced part of our property. Which the poor squirrel couldn’t climb because I wrapped flashing around it several months ago to keep the cats from climbing it. He would race up the tree to the flashing, try to climb it, then fall back into the waiting crowd of cats. I felt so bad for the poor thing. He was going to die if I didn’t do something, and do it quickly. I frantically searched the top of the washer and dryer for some dirty clothes, something I could wear, but I couldn’t find anything. So I stepped into some sneakers and raced out the door in my underwear and a t-shirt, yelling at the cats. The squirrel saw me coming and made a mad dash across the yard, closely followed by the cats, and more distantly by me. Around the patio, under the clothesline, past the chicken yard, and finally back to the tree. This time, he ran up to the bottom of the flashing and stopped. I got there just as the cats did and used my hands to keep them from jumping up at him. At the same time, I talked soothingly to the squirrel to try and calm him. While he didn’t look calm, he stopped darting around and clung to the tree. The cats circled warily, their tails whipping from side to side. Outside the fence, Miss Mama and Newt slunk back and forth, staring in at us intently. My mind raced. What to do? If I left to find something to catch him in, the cats would get him. If I didn’t do anything, the cats would get him because there was no escape. Left and right I ruled out options in a flash, until there was only one viable solution. I reached out and touched the squirrel, talking softly to him. He let me stroke him, then gently pluck him off the tree. He squealed a couple of times, and wriggled at first, but then he stopped. His eyes started to close, and he went limp. Oh my God, I thought. He’s going to die in my hands, just like all the birds I’ve rescued. His eyes opened wide again, and he looked alert. Then slowly they closed. Open. Closed. He’s going through his death throes. Then they opened, and stayed open. I guessed he was just suffering from the aftershocks of all the adrenalin. When it looked like he was going to live, I realized I had a problem: I was standing in the backyard in my underwear holding a squirrel, surrounded by cats both inside the yard and out, with nothing to put the squirrel in to transport him to safety. And if I was going to get close enough to a squirrel to hold it, I was by God going to get some pictures. We all have our priorities, you know. I walked around, looking desperately for something, anything, to contain the squirrel. I debated shutting him in the chicken coop until I could go find a box, but then I caught a flash of what it would be like trying to crawl around in the chicken poop trying to catch him again and discarded that. What about the grill? I could shut him in the grill, then— No, scratch that. I looked at the back door. I could carry him into the house, find a box, and put him in that. Then I imagined the phone call I’d inevitably have to make to Robyn. “Hey,” I’d say. “I, um, lost a squirrel in the house.” That would be even worse than the time I lost a snake in my car, I think. Then I caught sight of the laundry hanging on the line. Linens. Including the pillowcases off Robyn’s bed. Perfect. I walked over to the clothesline and undid the two clothespins holding one of the pillowcases with my free hand. It dropped to the ground, and I picked it up and shook it open. The squirrel wriggled in my hand when I did, and I quickly thrust him into the pillowcase. He immediately raced onto the hand holding the pillowcase, leapt, and hit the ground running. The cats were right on his tail, and chased him straight to the tree. I ran over and grabbed at him again, only this time he wasn’t all tired out and panicked. He was feeling froggy. As I pulled him off the tree, he turned his head and chomped my finger with his little squirrel teeth, causing me to drop him. He made a mad dash to get away from the cats, climbing the nearest thing that towered above him like a tree. And that’s how I came to be dancing around the backyard in my underwear this morning, clutching a lavendar pillowcase in one flailing hand, with a herd of cats milling around my feet and a squirrel clinging to my thigh. I brushed the squirrel off my leg and he immediately jumped at me again. And that’s how I came to be running around the backyard in my underwear this morning, chased by a squirrel and a herd of cats. He gave up trying to climb me after a few tries, and went back for the tree. I was able to use the pillowcase to catch him this time. As I did, I noticed my finger was bleeding where he bit me. I carried the pillowcase into the house and called Robyn. “I don’t really know any way to even lead into this, so I’ll just tell you,” I said. “I’ve been bitten by a squirrel.” “Oh, Jesus Christ,” she said. “How the hell did you manage that?” I told her the story and she decided to come back home to go to the emergency room with me if I needed to go. When we hung up, I called the vet’s office to see what their suggestion was. I don’t really think of squirrels when I think of rabies, but better safe than sorry. “Go to the emergency room,” I was told. “They may want to give you shot, because it’s not like you can catch the squirrel and bring it in.” “Nope,” I said, and pulled the pillowcase behind my back in case she could see through the phone. I didn’t want the little guy to have to die because of my actions. When Robyn got home, we let the squirrel go, and I decided to go to the emergency room on my own. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to go to the emergency room over a tiny little scratch on one finger? I asked to talk to a nurse before doing anything, because I didn’t really think my squirrel bite was an emergency. I just wanted to know if I needed a shot or not. As it turns out, squirrels almost never have rabies, and the nurse said I should just keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected. And that, boys and girls, is how I’ve spent my Veterans Day holiday so far. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Yesterday afternoon I was watching TV when the phone rang. It was Fred, calling from his cell phone. I knew he’d been out working on the shed, so I figured he was calling to tell me to come admire his handiwork. “Come to the side door and bring the camera,” he said. “Newt’s been hunting.” I did, and found Fred holding a small vole by the tail. “Is it dead?” I asked. “No, it’s still alive.” “Is it kicking-and-screaming alive, or just barely?” “It’s perfectly fine. I think Newt had just found it when I walked by.” I snapped a few pictures. “If you hold on a minute, I’ll get my glove on, and you can shoot a few pictures of it in my hand.” I waited, and told Newt what a big, bad hunter he was. (But he already knew that.) Fred came out, the rodent in his gloved hand, and held his hand up so I could shoot a few pictures. The vole squirted out between his thumb and forefinger, and hit the ground running. Newt leapt upon him and grabbed him up. The vole squealed and kicked. I did a little squealing myself. Fred grabbed at the vole, Newt dropped it, it ran a few feet, and Newt snatched it up again. Fred made sounds of exasperation at Newt, grabbed at the vole, the whole scene repeated itself, but just before Newt could grab the vole again, Fred got hold of it. Miz Poo sat by the fence gate, looking at us with great interest and puzzlement. I snapped a picture, and out squirted the vole again. Newt jumped at it, the vole squealed and ran through the fence into the back yard by Miz Poo, who stared at it with disapproval, like “Oh, are they bringing more animals into the back yard? Shocking.” Fred opened the gate, Newt went running through the gate at the vole, Fred grabbed it up, and said “I give up. I’m going to go set it free in the back forty.” I shut the gate – Newt still in the back yard – and Fred said “Now Newt’s probably so disgruntled he’ll kill and eat a chicken when we’re not looking.” He didn’t, though. He’s a mighty hunter, but he’s no dummy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Last night I was sitting in front of my computer, digesting dinner, when Fred frantically yelled “We have an escapee!” I got up from my chair and headed for the hallway. I wasn’t sure where he’d yelled from, and the most recent escapees we’d had to deal with were from the foster kitten room, so I thought perhaps he’d gone upstairs to spend some time with the kittens, opened the door, and one of them had shot out. Spooky, especially, is a little escape artist, waiting at the door until you open it, then he shoots out the door, down the hall, under the guest bed, and into the guest bedroom closet. Same path, every time. “What’s going on?” I yelled up the stairwell, and waited for a response. No response. “Hey!” Still no response. I glanced over at the front room and realized that the front door wasn’t quite completely shut. I went and opened it, to see Fred kneeling on the porch looking over the side. “Tommy escaped!” he said. I looked over his shoulder to see Tommy running joyously around under the bushes beside the porch. I called him, he ignored me, and I decided to go back inside, through the house, put on some shoes, and go out to try to catch him. Tommy ran from the side yard, across the front of the yard, and along the other side yard, ending up in the bush that sits directly outside my bedroom window. It was dark so I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him rustling around. Fred went inside, ran the length of the house, grabbed some shoes, and came at Tommy from the back yard. Tommy ran from the bush by my bedroom window to the bush alongside the porch, and finally ventured close enough so that Fred could grab him. “Bad boy, Tommy. BAD,” Fred said grimly as Tommy fought for freedom. We went inside, and Fred scolded him again before releasing him. Tommy grumped and ran off down the hall. “He disguised himself as Maxi!” Fred said. Apparently Newt was sitting by the front door, asking to be let out, and Tommy – who has clearly learned how things work around these parts – was sitting next to him. It wasn’t until Fred had let them both out and turned around to see Maxi regarding him from the back of the couch that he realized he’d been had. The entire time we were chasing Tommy around the yard, Newt was running around, chirruping and pouncing, as if he was thrilled to have a new outside friend. The mighty, mighty hunter.

* * *
Previously 2006: In lieu of an entry today, you get a plea. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: I’m not holding much love for Tubby at the moment, believe you me. 2002: And also, I have short and stubby legs. 2001: I think that our dog thinks she’s a Mexican jumping bean. 2000: In fact, my new motto is going to be “Bitch, whine, moan. Lather, rinse, repeat.” 1999: I would name her Molly.]]>

11-12-07

* * * “You want what? To snuggle? HA. Good luck with THAT!” “Bleh.” Sweet Deuce. Keeping an eye on his siblings. A boy and his toy. *************************** I think Sugarbutt looks totally creepy in this picture, like he’s possessed or something. Fred says it’s like in a movie when the evil demonbeast catches sight of you while he’s doing something else. (flickr) Clearly they needed a referee.

* * *
Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: NOTHING gets by him. NOTHING. 2003: Yep. When you have a crush on a fictional character and whine about how no one in a NOVEL is telling you anything, it’s about time to get a life, say true. 2002: Obviously she’d never taken Customer Service 101, wherein the “‘Thanks!’ = go away” equation is covered thoroughly. 2001: Poor Sadie. Those damn mean cats just refuse to play with her… 2000: No entry. 1999: No entry.]]>

11-11-07

* * * I totally flaked out on cleaning the house yesterday. I just did not WANT to clean the house, and so guess what? Didn’t do it. And no one will do a damn thing about it, and I can turn a blind eye to the dust for as long as I like, and I love being able to slack when I want. I did do my 35 minutes on the elliptical, though, does that count? I bought a $35 DVD player at Target on Friday, and it works just fine. $35 for a DVD player. Remember when they were several hundred bucks? Lord. And then, after I didn’t clean the house (but after I did vacuum the upstairs and spend some extra time with the kittens), Fred and I took a drive to Amish country in Tennessee. Getting away from the house for several hours was just what the doctor ordered. Fred bought all kinds of man toys (does that sound dirty?) and I bought… pretty much nothing, but that’s okay, I just wanted to get away. And we did! We stopped at a Goodwill store in Lawrenceburg (home of Senator Fred Thompson!) because I wanted to look around, and Fred ended up with two complete outfits to wear while working outside, AND a Promise Keepers t-shirt, which made both of us laugh ’til we snorted. I looked at the women’s clothes, but didn’t find anything I liked. I think later today I’m going to go to the store and buy a couple of pots of Mums for the front porch. The gerbera daisies and impatiens I had finally died due to the cold, so I need to put something else out there; the porch is looking pretty bare. The other day I was sitting at my computer when the front doorbell rang. The cats freaked out and evaporated, and I ran to the side window to see if someone was parked in the driveway. There was a bluish Mercedes or BMW sitting there, one I didn’t recognize, so I didn’t answer the door. Why should I answer the door if I’m not expecting anyone, I ask you? After the person at the door knocked a few times, he gave up and I watched him walk to his car. He resembled Fred’s father a lot, but I know the car his parents drive, and that wasn’t it. The guy backed out of the driveway, drove down the road a little, and pulled into another driveway, and went inside. So he was apparently a neighbor, and for the rest of the afternoon I wondered what he wanted. Did he want to buy some eggs? Did he have a complaint about the loudness of the TV in the garage when I worked out? Was he coming to tell me that he’d hit Newt or Maxi on the road? Something else entirely? I didn’t have to wait long to find out – later, after Fred made a trip to Lowe’s, he was standing in the driveway gathering the stuff he’d bought, and the man pulled in and asked if we had any eggs to sell. I don’t mind selling eggs to strangers, but I don’t know that I want them knocking on the door looking for eggs when there’s NO sign out there, damnit.

* * *
Sugarbutt stops to smell the weeds. “What the -?” “Incoming!” “Hey, Suggie, there are some misbehavin’ chickens, and you need to go lay down the law!” “Okay, when I say ‘go’, you go kick some chicken tail!” “That’s right, keep going. Flappy McGee is flappin’ and squawkin’, and you need to go tell her how it is!” “Ha, suckerrrrrrrrrr! Now he’s running from Flappy McGee, and I get the weeds all to MYSELF!”
* * *
Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: That girl has some serious lung power. 2003: Not holding my breath – but a girl can dream! 2002: Let me tell you about the saga of the box. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry. 1999: No entry.]]>