Month: December 2007

here. The second is of Ellie-Belly… chattering at the chickens. What can I say? She did a lot of chattering! See the MPG here.

 

I am sadsadsad to report that Journeyman (which employs the two prettiest men on all of TV, Kevin McKidd and Reed Diamond) has been canceled, but someone’s trying to change that with a Rice A Roni campaign. We’ve really enjoyed Journeyman a lot; it’s one of the few new shows we kept watching, and I am so sad it’s been canceled. DAMNIT. Speaking of TV, we recently “discovered” Arrested Development and have been taping it every time it comes on TV (it comes on every day at 11:30, so we have new episodes to watch every night), and holy SHIT is that a funny show. Back when it was new, we tried watching an episode, but we got about halfway through one and were like “Eh. Not so funny.” and never tried again. Which is kind of good, because that means now we have shows to watch! We started taping 30 Rock too, and are enjoying it. Fred likes it more than I do, and the only reason he wanted to watch it was because he heard about the “It’s not a Lemon party without old dick!” line from last week’s episode (for those not in the know, the Lemon Party picture is one that involves naked old men; I’m sure you could find it with the help of Google if you really wanted. But you don’t, trust me.). Anyway. On to the comment-answering extravaganza!

 

How many cat beds do you have? Are they “assigned” or “first come, first serve?”. I had to go through the house and count them all. Included in this number are all the cat beds, baskets, and covered pyramids. NOT included are the cat trees and the non-cat-bed places they like to sleep (on the backs of the couches, for instance). We have 19 cat beds in the house. They’re all “first come, first serve”, though they each have their favorite beds. There are two cat beds on the bed in the guest bedroom, and 95% of the time Spot and Spanky use those, though occasionally Mister Boogers and Newt will hang out up there. The most popular beds are the two on my desk – someone’s always coming up and wandering across my desk to see if there’s any room at the inn, then getting mad and hissing and smacking at whoever’s in the favored bed.

 

So, I know you met Fred online on IRC. Were you at all concerned about telling him you were overweight? I know that he was too at the time but it seems to matter less for the mens. Well of course I was! The funny thing is that I assumed he was a tall, skinny, geeky guy (because someone said he was the quintessential geek, and the only real quintessential geek who came to mind was Bil Gates) and he thought I was some health food nut because I mentioned strawberry-flavored rice cakes a couple of times (hahahaha!), and it wasn’t until I mailed a picture of myself to him (and vice versa) that we knew we both liked food a little too much. Kismet! Match made in heaven! Fate!

 

What do you feed your cats? Just wondering, as I have 2 myself. In one bowl is Nutro Complete Care Senior, in one bowl is Blue Spa Select Salmon & Brown Rice, and in the third bowl is Timberwolf Serengeti Herbal Cat Food. I’m about to get rid of the Timberwolf, though, because they don’t care for it much, and it takes the better part of a week to empty the bowl. At their nightly snack time, they get either the Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys stuff, or the cheaper Fancy Feast Grilled stuff.

 

What did you think of the big smackdown this week on the real housewives of orange county? I think that “smackdown” was pretty lame and nothing that really “threatened” their friendship, just a momentary squabble that blew over pretty quickly. I think Jeana should totally not be doing business with Vicki and getting between Vicki and Frankie – that’s just trouble waiting to happen. What icked me out about this week’s show was those creepy OC Energy drink guys standing around making the “Angels” try on too-small bikinis and eyeballing them in a creepy way. Ugh. Also, the “kiss” between Tamra and Vicki – why not just scream “WE NEEDS ATTENTION LOOK AT US PLS!” and get it over with? LAME. What brand of cleaning products were you using before the Gaiam ones arrived? Which ones do you like better? The stuff I got from Gaiam is all Seventh Generation cleaning stuff and I haven’t tried it out yet, except for the toilet cleaner which I give two thumbs up. Before, I was using… uh. I don’t remember – some tub and tile cleaner I picked up at the store that smelled all chemical and environment-killing. I’ll let y’all know how the Seventh Generation stuff works out for me!

 

I’ll have to check out Gaiam products and see what I’m missing. I usually use Method products – I love the “Good for Wood” wood cleaner. It smells so yummy I want to lick the dusty cloth. I like the Method wipes that are biodegradable. The ones I bought this week smell like lavender, and I use them almost daily to wipe down the toilet seat (the cats like to drink from the toilet, thus my everyday cleaning of it).

 

So Robyn loves eggs. Has she ever seen the Egg Song? I had not!

 

And just FYI, I know joint pain can be a number of things. But it could possibly be gout, which is a buildup of uric acid. It can cause flareups of pain like that. It usually requires medication and avoidance of red meat and alcohol. And of course, we all know what a big drunk you can be 😉 I don’t like alcohol, but I sure like me some red meat! I would be so very sad to have to give it up, damnit. I’ve looked up the warning signs of gout, and though it doesn’t sound like me and my knee issues, if I’m still being troubled by my knee in the new year, I’ll take myself off to the doctor. Promise!

 

I want to know if you became a sexaholic. I did not. Y’ALL ARE AWFULLY INTERESTED IN MY SEX LIFE. Here’s all the information you’re going to get: it has neither increased nor decreased since I lost weight. I was a very flexible fat chick, and my husband is no more or less attracted to me now than he was when I was 362 pounds, believe it or not. Nosy bastards. Do you notice a difference in your cats meows? If you were blind folded and someone held a mewing cat in front of you would you know who it was? Most likely I would, though I sometimes get them mixed up. Miz Poo and Spanky, I can identify with no problem, Sugarbutt and Tommy rarely meow (usually only when they’re disturbed by something), Spot has a kind of hoarse, squeaky meow, Mister Boogers has his very own sound, Newt has a high-pitched meow, and tends to only meow when he’s alerting you that he’s moving toward the door and would like you to open it and let him out, pls. Also, when he follows us around the back forty he likes to chat to let us know he’s there. Maxi has a low meow, but she doesn’t meow all that much, either. Miss Stinky has a very bitchy meow and generally only meows when she’s demanding food or being picked up by Fred.

 

My old cat, Hocus, had terrible constipation problems. Our vet suggested mixing in pumpkin pie filling in with his wet food (he was also on medication). It looked and smelled horrible, but he would eat it and helped keep him “regular.” I am sorry to say this, but it’s Fred’s contention that every Weight Watchers’ recipe starts with a can of pumpkin and pudding with a little Cool Whip thrown in, so reading this makes me wonder if people who follow Weight Watchers are more regular than the average non-WW follower.

 

look at this that sounds like you and “not our cats” Indeed it does!

 

This is off-topic (although I like those boots, too), but I made your sweet potato casserole recipe for Thanksgiving and people REALLY liked it. My sister asked me for the recipe so she can make it for my BIL’s family Christmas dinner. Thanks! It’s my pleasure to share the good recipes with y’all! That sweet potato casserole is one of my favorite holiday dishes, and I look forward to it every year!

 

Robyn, I couldn’t help laughing at the number of cats mentioned in the blurb for your 2003 entry. [A tree with glass ornaments? In a house with five cats?] Hee! No kidding – the number’s almost doubled since then! I swear to you all that I am never going to say “No more cats!” ever again, because every time I do that, god laughs and makes a notation in his notebook, and by the time the next year rolls around, I’ve got six more cats under my care.

 

Will he do his rooster thing when the sun rises or can you train him to do it at like, 9am? DO NOT answer that question in your question extravaganza thing- it was rhetorical. I think. Unless you *can* train him; then I’d be curious to know the answer. A rooster cannot be trained – and he apparently doesn’t wait for the sun to come up. Fred hears him at various times in the morning, usually between 3:30 and 4:30. He also crows at various times during the day for reasons only known to him. I want to record him crowing and then play it back to see if he’ll recognize his own voice, or view it as a threat from another rooster!

 

Hmm…not to be an enabler, but if you go here they tell you how to get one of the newer models (i.e. much easier to clean than the last generation) for $212 out the door. Did I mention that Bridget is my favorite reader ever? Well, this week anyway!

 

You have probably seen this before but when I saw it I thought of you and wanted to pass it along. I hadn’t seen it – but I can’t get enough of holiday-song-singing-cats, that’s for sure! I also like this page (though it’s got no singing cats on it).

 

I like that you call your happy orange kitty Newtles but when you actually say it, it sounds like Noodles. I always thought Noodles would be a good kitty name. I like that I’ve already got Fred calling him Newtles, too. Every time I say “Newtles”, I see the word “Noodles” in my head, so maybe I’m already calling him Noodles! I want to get a cat and name it Chompers McGee, because that name just cracks me UP.

 

Maybe I’m missing something… BUT…. If you want a fertilized egg to develop, how do you know it is fertilized and how do you keep it separate from future eggs? I just can imagine how an “old” egg might get mixed up with the ones from the present morning and you accidentally crack open either a partially developed chick or an extremely stinky unfertilized older egg…. When the egg is a few days old and has been sat upon by a chicken, you can shine a light through the egg and see if anything’s developing (it’s called “candling“), and at that point I suppose we could mark the eggs that are fertile and remove the ones that aren’t. To be honest, this is going to be more Fred’s gig than mine.

 

Okay, I had to see what all the excitement was about in 2004. Laughed hysterically! Have you seen this? Not only have I seen it, I actually own some cat butt magnets! I don’t have a cat butt air freshener, though.

 

Back in the early 90’s my mom and dad bought some property in a more rural area. There was a rooster that lived next door. One day while my dad and I were hanging out on the back deck, I mentioned the tranquil sound of the country when the rooster next door cockadoodledoos. “Do you know why roosters crow?” asked my dad. “Why no …no I dont” I said after a ponderous moment. “Well roosters crow when they get some chicken lovin” said my dad matter-of-factly. Well that little bit information stayed with me and for the following 10 years, every time someone would visit the house and I happened to be there and the rooster happened to crow …I shared that little bit of learned rooster information. Sure I got a few odd looks but ..my dad told me after all …and he knows everything. Just before my dad passed away …I was sitting on his bed chatting with him. It was a warm August day and of course Rooster McRoosterson was cockadoodledooing – not sure if it was the same rooster but it was a rooster nonetheless. A lot of reflecting had been going on over the previous weeks and that day was no different. “That rooster next door is sure a busy boy today” I said. “Why do you say that?” said my Dad. “Well all the crowing is because he is gettin his chicken lovin” I said If my dad had not been on his death bed …he would have been on the floor dying of laughter. yeah …so dont always believe what your dad tells you. I adore this story. If someone told me that roosters crow to announce that they’ve gotten some chicken lovin’, I totally would have believed that!

 

Poor Tommy. Does he ever get a moment of peace to himself or is Miss Stank the eternal companion? Oh, he gets peace. She doesn’t follow him around 24 hours a day, and actually sometimes he follows her around (though that happens less often than the reverse). If she just won’t leave him alone and he wants a little alone time, he’ll go out back into the yard. She won’t go out there – the cat door and the chickens scare her – but she’ll hang around the door waiting for him to come back inside like a sailor’s wife waiting for her husband to return home.

 

you guys should TOTALLY get one of these Oh, I’m sure we’ll end up with more freaky-looking chickens than you can shake a stick at. Fred’s already planning to order some of those freaky chickens with the afros, I think.

 

I’m going to vote for a valance with a light blocking pull-down shade hiding underneath. I think the cats would love to “play” with floor length sheers too much. I always want to take pictures of different outfits while I’m in the dressing room but I’m always afraid people will hear the clicking of a camera and wonder what on earth I’m doing! Yeah, I think the cats would mess with floor-length curtains too much, and I’d have to kill them. As for taking pictures in the dressing room, I turned the flash off so no one would know I was taking pictures of myself, but they could probably still hear the camera turning on and off!

 

My god, I love Newtles and his sweet little face, and the way he so calmly and patiently watches the kittens run around like their asses are on fire, and puts up with them sniffing him and smacking at his tail, and is never anything but a complete and utter sweetheart. (flickr)

 

Previously 2006: I said to Fred, “I know you think we have too many cats, but -” 2005: I imagine that when all three of our phones are in the same vicinity, we’ll get them confused and hijinx will ensue. 2004: Reader questions, answered. 2003: “Um, no,” I told Fred when he asked. “And not only no, but HELL no, and I’ll be out of the house whenever they come to interview you and tape you exercising and all that goofy-ass shit.” 2002: No entry. 2001: I guess he defines “tension” as “getting drunk and pawing every female in sight.” 2000: I practically woke up screaming, I tell you. 1999: Suddenly, it occurs to me that nestled next to my underwear is not the best place to put a bag of very potent catnip.]]>

 

When this doesn’t even represent half the cats present in the house, you know you’ve got too damn many cats. (flickr) Thanks, all y’all, for your comments yesterday regarding the curtains. I think what I’ve decided is that I’m going to return the curtains (no, they don’t have the same curtains in purple). I should have mentioned that I do have blinds up in that room, they just don’t quite darken the room as much as I’d like. We’re going to go get the more expensive room-darkening blinds this weekend (hopefully) and then I’m going to get some simple valances to hang across the top. As for the sweaters, thanks for your comments about those, too. I’m not buying the dark red sweater, because to look decent in that, I had to suck my gut in so hard I was seeing stars. (On a side note, it cracks me up to find out that Target carries a lower-priced alternative to Spanx called Assets!) Maybe next year I’ll start shopping for my Christmas outfit early, and y’all can dress me like a Barbie doll. I’ll try on several different outfits, and you can vote! (Everyone vote for the appliquéd sweater to make Jane cry!) I’m not buying the blue sweater, either – I’m just finding something I already own to wear, and I’m going to call it good enough.

 

I ran a few errands yesterday before my hair appointment, and next year when I’m bitching about the line at the post office, y’all feel free to remind me that I live so close to the Smallville post office that I can step out onto the front porch and see it, and a long line at that post office is maybe three people. I was going to check the PO Box in Madison and had two packages to mail, so was just going to mail it from there, only I stopped at the Smallville post office instead, and I was out of there in less than five minutes. I still went to the Madison post office to check the PO Box, and I was very glad to not have to stand in the thirty-person-long line there. From there, I went to Walgreen’s to pick up some pictures, and then I had just enough time to get to the hair-cuttin’ place for my 11:00 appointment. The last few times I’ve had my hair done, the hair chick asked when I was going to bring her some eggs. I’d been meaning to, but kept forgetting, and yesterday I finally remembered. She was quite impressed with the blue eggs – had never seen blue eggs before – and said she was going to use them to make her Christmas morning casserole. With my hair did, and styled in the fashion I refer to as “’60s Helmet ‘Do”, I stopped by the grocery store for dinner ingredients, and got home a few minutes before 2:00, just in time for lunch. I was unloading groceries from my car when Fed Ex showed up with a couple of boxes. He carried them to the side stoop for me (I tried to take them from him, but he was all “I’ve got it! They’re kind of heavy! Little lady!” (okay, not so much the “little lady” part)) and after I’d put the groceries away I brought the boxes inside (okay, they were a bit heavy. But not too heavy for me, because I = badass. Also, stronger than I look.) and opened them. Last week I ordered a bunch of “green” cleaning products from Gaiam. Here at Crooked Acres, we have a septic tank, and thus everything I clean with gets washed into the septic tank, and I would really hate it if all kind of chemicals messed with the septic tank. (Also, I loves me some environment and cares tons about the world I leave behind for my child and grandchildren blah blah blah.) So the boxes that came yesterday was all the cleaning stuff I’d ordered, and when I opened the boxes, what did I find? All that environmentally safe cleaning stuff packed in environment-killing styrofoam peanuts. I called Fred and told him of the horror. Then my mother called, and I told her of the horror. Then I emailed Jane to ask her if this was true irony or just Alanis Morrissette irony, and she emailed me back to say that it was true irony (and then she mentioned the environment-killing airline fuel and gas used to get that environmentally safe cleaning stuff to my house, which I hadn’t even thought of. Well, I had thought of it, but when I compared the cost to the environment versus the cost to my mental health caused by having to drive to the health food store and be around all those dirty hippies, I figured the environment could just suck it). So I was gearing up for a diatribe about the ridiculousness and how Gaiam doesn’t care all THAT much about the environment, and then I got to looking at the insert that came with the order, where I read These off-white “peanuts” are made from a starch mixture of potato and wheat. They are 100% biodegradable and water soluble and will not pollute groundwater. They can be disposed of in your garbage disposal, flushed down a toilet or drain, dissolved in the yard with a hose or in your composter. Well played, Gaiam. And since the peanuts are safe for the environment, I didn’t take the one Sugarbutt was playing with away from him, and after he chewed it for a little while, he walked away licking his lips, and there on the floor behind him was a pile of peanut goo. I flicked it out into the yard, secure in the knowledge that I am not killing the environment. Well. I AM killing the environment with my mere existence – global warming? TOTALLY my fault! – but not with that peanut!

 

“Tell me ONE MORE TIME how cute I am, lady, and I’ll come over there and rip your throat out with my teeth. And I will PURR while I’m doing it. Ah hets yew.” (flickr)

 

Previously 2006: I wonder how often dental patients go into a screaming rage and get violent with dental hygienists, because I certainly feel the impulse every time I have my teeth cleaned. 2005: Also, if Hollabackness is a desired state of being, how do I go about achieving it? 2004: Apparently she’s a princess now. 2003: Three things. 2002: My shit list. 2001: Emailing gets me all excited. 2000: I sure whine about the weather a lot, don’t I? 1999: Disaster averted!]]>

Baby’s got back. I was sucking it in so hard in this picture that today every muscle in my abdomen hurts. (pic) Hate the belt. Still sucking it in. I like my hair from this angle. Maybe I should walk around with my head turned and tilted all the time. (pic) Unflattering. Also, dorky look on my face. (pic) I am aware that I need to buy me some Spanx, but I don’t want to. It was bad enough that I was actually considering buying a $40 sweater to wear for ONE occasion, I didn’t want to purchase Spanx on top of it. What will really help the potbelly issue is when I pay a plastic surgeon thousands of dollars to cut the extra skin from my abdomen. Until then, I’ll dig through my closet and find something to wear Christmas morning, secure in the knowledge that no one in Fred’s family will really give much of a shit WHAT I’m wearing.

 

After months of talking about it, I finally ordered some curtains for my bedroom, and they came late last week, and last night Fred put up the curtain rod, and I hung the curtains, and I’m just not sure. I don’t love them, I know that, but I don’t even know if they go with the room. When I was ordering them, I asked for Fred’s input, and he said I should get them in navy, so I did and this is what they look like: (flickr) I’m aware that they need to be ironed, but other than that, what do you think? Do y’all have suggestions? I want something that will cover the windows at night (it was so nice and dark in my room last night I slept like a baby) but can be pulled to the side during the day. Any and all suggestions appreciated!

 

I don’t understand this position. I think he was laying on his stomach with his head turned up to face the ceiling, but I’m not quite sure. (flickr)

 

Previously 2006: I think my favorite part of the video is at the end when the boys are eating and Miz Poo is so intent on getting a snootful of Booger ass that she is uninterested in Snack Time. 2005: I’m sure that if Rachel McAdams knew that pictures of her nipples were going to be splashed all over the internet she would have yanked out the hairs just to spare the Dork Brigade the sheer horror of having to be aware of the fact that she’s a living, breathing human and exists for purposes beyond serving as an image for them to jerk off to. 2004: I’d swear to never use Amazon again, but it’s so FREAKING convenient I just can’t help myself. 2003: Clearly we were in the presence of REALLY important people. 2002: Because I’m just that good. 2001: That’s right, damnit, I’m a chick magnet! 2000: We’re standing strong in the face of those two snowflakes. 1999: Though I guess “substance” would be a matter of opinion.]]>

Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, I’m at a slightly higher risk of developing liver cancer than those of you with ordinary, boring livers, so along with testing my blood for cancer markers every six months, I have to have it ultrasounded every so often just in case. So I have had nothing by mouth since midnight last night (well, actually nothing since about 12:30, when I woke up and slurped down some water because my mouth was dry, but shhh! Don’t tell the ultrasound tech!) and I am hungry and thirsty, and I hope the ultrasound goes quickly. I have errands to run (Sam’s, TJ Maxx, Michael’s), and I imagine that being hungry is going to make running those errands TOTALLY fun.

 

(flickr) (flickr) Nowadays, Punki and Felicia are spending all day out running around the house, and we just put them in the foster kitten room because I don’t want to hear the hissing and growling and racing around that would result in letting them stay out all night long, too. They go willingly enough into the foster room at night (actually, anytime you go upstairs, they’ll follow you up and run into the foster room) and will meow loudly a few times before they settle down for the night. Fred lets them out when he gets up at 4:whatever, and sometimes Felicia wakes me up with a questioning “Mrow?”, and sometimes she doesn’t, but she usually just checks in on me and then goes off elsewhere in the house. They sure are cute. Wonder if I could convince Fred that we should adopt them. (I KID.)

 

Tommy loves to roll around in the leaves on a sunny afternoon. And then he loves to come inside and leave leaves all over the house. That Roomba cannot get here soon enough to suit me. (flickr)

 

Previously 2006: I think that we all know that it’s more likely that Sugarbutt will whisk Miz Poo into a perky waltz about the living room before I actually get off my dead ass and sand down the trim so that I don’t have to look at the drippy bits. 2005: No entry. 2004: He yawned his ears right off his head. 2003: “Well,” he said, all smug and certain of his facts. “If you didn’t have DIARRHEA, then it was NOT the flu! It’s just a cold!” 2002: But is Christmas shopping ever really done? 2001: The usual excitement 2000: Grandma’s other concerns were whether the fire was going out (it wasn’t) and how much Fred and Becky were eating. 1999: When did Toronto become part of the United States, again?]]>

a fertilized egg, once laid, is in a state of suspended animation until it’s incubated. If you collect the egg right away and refrigerate it, the embryo will never develop, and I’ll bet you’d never notice the difference between that egg and an unfertilized one. See what a fertilized vs. unfertilized egg looks like, here. Sometimes you come across a grocery store egg that contains a blood spot. I was told, as a child, that a blood spot indicated a fertilized egg. But that’s not so, according to the American Egg Board. Instead, ” Contrary to popular opinion, these tiny [blood] spots do not indicate a fertilized egg. Rather, they are caused by the rupture of a blood vessel on the yolk surface during formation of the egg or by a similar accident in the wall of the oviduct. Less than 1% of all eggs produced have blood spots. Mass candling methods reveal most eggs with blood spots and those eggs are removed but, even with electronic spotters, it is impossible to catch all of them. As an egg ages, the yolk takes up water from the albumen to dilute the blood spot so, in actuality, a blood spot indicates that the egg is fresh. Both chemically and nutritionally, these eggs are fit to eat. The spot can be removed with the tip of a knife, if you wish.” More than you ever wanted to know about hens, roosters, and eggs (fertilized and not) here. Also, those of you who warned me about the rooster crowing: yeah, he crows. But when he crows in the early morning, he’s in the coop – so that muffles him a little – and he’s on the other end of the house from my bedroom, and I sleep with ear plugs in. So when he went off at 4-something this morning (reported by Fred), I didn’t hear a single thing, and I don’t expect I will. Fred said that he could hear him, but he wasn’t too terribly loud, that the trains that run by a few miles down the road are far louder. I haven’t been woken up by a train in months, so I don’t think the rooster’s going to be an issue for me. Of course, if that changes, you KNOW you’ll be hearing about it.

 

FYI: Roomba has been ordered, thanks to enabling reader Bridget, who provided me the link to this page. I said “I’m going to order that Roomba.” And then I ordered that Roomba, and then Fred said “How much was the Roomba?” and I said “$212, shaddup.” and he said “The rooster was only ten dollars!” and I said “Your point?” and he said nothing and I said “I’ll get far more pleasure from the Roomba than the rooster.” and he said nothing.

 

The rooster, I must admit, is kind of entertaining to watch. I was under the impression that roosters are assholes who do nothing but try to get some lovin’, but so far McLovin (we changed his name from Cluck Gable to McLovin, because McLovin makes us giggle) pretty much behaves himself. I mean, there’s been some hanky panky, but for the most part he seems to walk around and stare off into the distance, and dig for food and every once in a while he’ll do a halfhearted mating dance. He really is a pretty chicken, and I look forward to seeing what his babies look like.

 

So, last week someone asked: Over the years that you’ve been sending cards to blog readers, what is your sent to received ratio? Has it fluctuated from year to year, or steadily increased/decreased? I’ve been keeping track since 2001, and the stats are as follows:

Year	Sent	Received	% of return
2001	195	63	32.3%
2002	331	159	48%
2003	269	130	48.3%
2004	327	170	51.98%
2005	260	137	52.69%
2006	320	153	47.8%

So, it kind of fluctuates, but has stayed fairly close to 50% since 2002. And by the way – I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: I honestly don’t keep track of who sends me a card and who doesn’t. I love the cards I get from you guys, and I love sending them out to you, but I’ve never once said “Hmph. I sent a card to So-and-So, and they didn’t send one back. Bastard!” Creating and sending out cards every year is a big part of what gets me in the Christmas spirit!

 

I covered for the Sunday morning volunteer at the pet store yesterday morning (which is why I was up and posting so early), and I have to say that driving into Huntsville from Smallville on a Sunday morning is WAY better than making the same drive on a Monday morning. I’d driven 20 minutes before I even saw another car! To my dismay, except for Jessikat, all the kittens who were at the pet store last Monday were still there yesterday, including Ellie-Belly and Skittles. Adoptions have been absolutely abysmal lately, damnit, and I hope they pick up! Skittles followed me around and howled to be picked up and loved, so I did plenty of that. When I left the pet store, I went over to Target to do some grocery shopping and pick up a few Christmas items, then stopped at Publix on the way home to buy things I can’t get at Target (Western Bagels and Publix Diet Cola for Fred). When I got home, I thought briefly about driving to Closeville to walk on the walking path, but it was so freakin’ cold (with the windchill, in the 20s) and when I walked on Friday I reinjured my not-completely-healed knee, so I gave myself a Get out of Jail Free card, and spent the day (most of it, except when I had to run to the office supply store, and then stand outside in the freezing-ass cold helping Fred with the chicken coop) inside. Laundry’s done, packages ready to be mailed, house more or less straightened out. And I’m out of here, off to the pet store to do my usual Monday morning thing.

 

Oh, and before I forget: Miss Stank has recovered from the Stank Virus; over the weekend, Miss Momma had a bout of it, and now I think Spot’s down for the count. We’re treating them with powdered Slippery Elm Bark to help with the nausea and (in Spot’s case) diarrhea, and all we can do is wait it out. Poor kitties.

 

Newtles sleeps the sleep of the innocent, unaware of the depravity going on just a few feet away. (flickr) (flickr)

 

Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: Fred leaned down and SNIFFED MEESTER BOOGERS’ ASS AGAIN. 2003: And then we got to stand around while the woman, clearly not the sort who can walk and chew gum at the same time, fumbled with her credit card, NEVER ONCE PAUSING IN HER INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT CONVERSATION. 2002: Tell me, for I am clueless when it comes to these things. 2001: Like I said, if you’re going to mix lights, go all the way, people. 2000: No entry.]]>

Let’s get a rooster. Let’s get a rooster. We need a rooster. Let’s get a rooster. Know what would be cool? A rooster! And instead of listening to reason, wherein I explain to him that we should wait until the new coop is done, and the chickens are ready to move to the new coop, and they’ll be away from the back yard and a rooster wouldn’t be able to attack and kill a cat, and then he agrees that that is a fabulous idea, he instead agrees that that is a well-reasoned, fabulous idea, and then on he goes. Rooster. Rooster. Rooster. Rooster. Want. Want. Want. Want. I say, “I think 2008 should be the year we start saying NO to ourselves,” and he says “Then we need to get a rooster pretty quick! Haw haw! Also, some goats!” Rooster. Rooster. Goats. Rooster. Rooster. Goats. Goats. Goats. Dog. Rooster. Rooster. Pig. Goats. Rooster. Rooster. Let’s go get a rooster. Let’s go get a goat. Oh, BESSIE. I wouldn’t bring a goat home until I had the back forty fenced in. I know what I’m doing! I’m so reasonable! Rooster. Rooster. Rooster. Goats. Rooster. Rooster. This rooster. That rooster. The other rooster. Roosterroosterroosterroosterroosterrooster. I don’t want a rooster. At the very least, I don’t want a rooster until the chickens are moved over to the new chicken coop and I don’t have to worry about Mister Boogers getting his eyes pecked out (though if he doesn’t stop jumping the goddamn fence, I’ll scoop his eyeballs out with a spoon myself). Don’t want a rooster. Don’t want one. And also? Don’t want one. DO NOT WANT. Rooster. Rooster. Laying on the floor kicking and screaming about a rooster. Agrees that we’ll wait to get a rooster until the new coop is done and fenced in. Rooster. Rooster. Rooster. Rooster. Rooster. “Hey, Bessie! Let’s go to Lacon Trade Days and get a rooster!” Because he will not shut the fucking fuck up until he gets his new goddamn toy, off we go to Lacon. And we get a goddamn rooster. And then he has the NERVE to bitch about the fact that I didn’t take “an active role” in picking the rooster. I wonder why I wouldn’t want to take “an active role” in picking the rooster, given that I wanted it SO VERY MUCH. At least he’s pretty. (flickr) Fred’s c0ck. Let him show you it.

 

Given that as much as I didn’t want a rooster, you can multiply that by sixty-three thousand, that is how much I don’t want a goat, so I estimate that he’ll be bringing one home round about next Thursday. GAH. However, with the idea that turnabout’s fair play, I’m going to use his own trick on him. I want a Roomba. I want a Roomba. Roomba. Roomba. Know what would be cool? A Roomba. If we had a Roomba, the floor would be clean right now. Let’s go get a Roomba. Roomba. Roomba. RoombaRoombaRoombaRoombaRoombaRoombaRoomba.

 

An Afternoon in the Life of Sugarbutt. Hangin’ out on the air conditioning unit. Hangin’ with the bros. Going for a run. Doing yoga (balancing on front left foot). Trying to decide whether to go inside or stay out (when he stands like this, he looks like a little old potbellied man). Repeat ad infinitum.

 

Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: You know what I really fucking hate? 2004: I guess it really does pay to be in the right place at the right time, eh? 2003: No one cries alone when I’m around, I always say. 2002: Next week will be a lovely roller coaster ride of stressed-out PMS hormones gone wild. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry. 1999: Have I mentioned that I sleep in the nude?]]>

new logo! This was created by talented reader Christine. The lightbulb over Mister Boogers’ head is cracking me UP. Thanks, Christine!!

 

I like the Girlz and they’re very entertaining to watch, but MY GOD I’m ready for them to be in their new chicken yard instead of dropping chicken poop all over my patio furniture (and the entire back yard). (pic) (pic) (pic) When one has to peck the ground for bugs and worms, one gets mud on one’s beak.(pic) Frick, up close. Such a pretty boy girl. (pic) Frick is dead certain that the eyes on my boots are food meant for her and her alone. She just can’t figure out how to eat it. (pic) This strikes me as very Sopranos-esque. (pic)

 

Previously 2006: So that’s the story of my search for the perfect bra, and how I found it. 2005: I probably have a brain tumor. 2004: I swear, my Grinchly heart grew three sizes right then and there. 2003: A tree with glass ornaments? In a house with five cats? 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: I told Fred we should hire her out to the local police agencies and she could tell them when someone looks like a “drug person.” 1999: Fred and I came to an agreement last night. The end of March, I’m going off the birth control, and we’re going to start trying to get pregnant. (HahahahahahaHAHA! My, how times have changed!)]]>

If you can view MPGs, you can see the movie (the picture’s a lot better) here. (That’ll be up for the next week, then I’m going to take it down and upload another one!)

 

Why does Fred hate us so? He hasn’t posted a thing since December 1st. We miss you Fred. Your wife has posted everyday for a month and a half. Please, Robyn, make Fred post more often. I’d ask Fred why he hasn’t posted since the 1st, except I already know he’d say “I have nothing to write about!” He’s been working on the new chicken coop, and it’s keeping him pretty busy, and then he was sick. He thinks that things have to “happen” before he can write an entry, and I think I’ve proven perfectly well that you can write entire entries about NOTHING. It’s nothing personal. He doesn’t hate YOU, he’s just a hater in general. And I think we all know that I can’t make that man do anything he doesn’t want to do unless I bitch and whine a lot, and I just don’t have the energy. Hang in there, he’ll post again eventually!

 

Did you see Oprah’s Favorite Things show? I watched that off the DVR today. That was like ten grand worth of stuff! I know that personally, I will never feel truly fulfilled until I have a refrigerator with a built-in HDTV and dvd hookup. I started to watch Oprah’s Favorite Things show because I always find something interesting even though she won’t come and give me all that shit for free (bitch), but the hysterical screaming from the audience pissed me off so much that I deleted it. I cannot stand the goddamn screaming, it makes me want to hunt down every audience member and bitch slap them.

 

Did you see the previews for next week’s RHWOC and apparently Vicki and Jeana get in a bitchy fight? Bring it on!!! I can’t WAIT. I just wish Tamra would get between them, and they’d break her in half and she’d end up with her jaw wired shut and unable to speak. I bet she knows how to simper “I’m the hottest housewife in Orange County!” in sign language already, though. RE: RHWoOC – I always thought Lauri must be really good in bed b/c why else would George want her? Sure she’s decent looking in a completely fake way, but he’s so filthy rich I can’t imagine he’d have any problem getting a much younger version of her with newer fake boobies. But lately I’ve been obsessed with how over-Botoxed Lauri is and her upper lip does.not.move. Hmmm, I think the lack of lip mobility throws my “good in bed” theory out the door. & seriously, if George was not a gazillionaire, Lauri would not want him. He is in no way cute or charming. Yuk. & doesn’t the nearly incestuous relationship with the new one (Tamra) and her oldest son sort of creep you out? Someone on a message board somewhere said they really wanted to see a picture of Lauri before the plastic surgery, but all you’ve gotta do is look at her oldest daughter to see what she’d look like if her face could MOVE. She wasn’t that bad in the very beginning, was she? Because I remember thinking she was kind of pretty in Season 1, but now I just can’t even look directly at her because it hurts too much. Also, I have serious doubts about her “relationship” with George. I have one word: Beard. Tamra and her son ABSOLUTELY creep me out. That boy has the dead, flat eyes of a serial killer, and the way they hang out together in a bar with the son and husband getting all competitive is just ICK.

 

What’s up with your knee? I am asking because just about a week ago I woke up one morning and out of the blue, my left knee was hurting so badly I could hardly walk. No swelling or redness, and I couldn’t imagine why it was hurting so badly. I normally work out for an hour every morning and walk four miles in the afternoon – the day before I had actually only walked two miles, so it doesn’t seem to have been overuse. Anyway, it got progressively worse and worse, to the point where I could hardly bear weight on it, couldn’t bend it much, and it was keeping me awake at night. I totally planned on seeing the doctor first thing Monday morning … but when I got up the pain was gone. Completely gone, no problems, nada. And it’s been fine now for three days … I am completely back to working out and walking. What the hell? Do you or anyone have a clue as to what it could’ve been? A virus? All in my head? A curse? I did a graceful stumble-klutz on my way to the car the day before it started hurting, so I think I pulled something. It never hurt too much to walk around normally, just was uncomfortable and I didn’t want to stress it by exercising (does that sound like an excuse? Shaddup.). Today it hurts just the tiniest bit, but I’m going to be headed out here for walkin’ in a little while. As for your knee – well, sometimes our bodies go to drastic measures to get us to relax a little. Maybe your knee was sending up the “Time off, pls. Thx.” flare, and it certainly got its way, didn’t it? Stupid body parts. Obviously, if it comes back you’ll go to the doctor, right? Right. Okay, I’m done being your mother. Drink your milk and eat an apple with lunch, COMB YOUR HAIR, GOD, loveyoubye!

 

What does “fleein’ the interview” mean? It’s a line from the movie… hello. What the fuck. Why can I not think of the name of that goddamn movie? Waiting… waiting…. FARGO! It’s a line from the movie Fargo (god, I thought I was going to have to go google Steve Buscemi, because his is the only name I could think of. AM OLD.). In the movie (in case you haven’t seen it), Francis McDormand plays the Chief of Police, and she’s interviewing William H. Macy, whose character is responsible for hiring a couple of idiots to kidnap his wife because he’s in financial straits and needs the money her father will pony up for ransom, only of course it all goes awry. Anyway, she’s got a few questions for William H. Macy, and she’s sitting in his office at a car dealership waiting for him to bring back some information, and as she looks out the window, he goes driving by in a car and she says “He’s fleein’ the interview!”, and it’s a line we quote often here at Casa And3rson. But in the case of yesterday’s entry (everything in his body was fleein’ the interview), what I meant was that everything in his body that could find an exit was doing so. In other words, he was one with the toilet for a few hours. Lucky man.

 

What are you going to do with your OFB site? And if you know Fred with his OPM site? Seems like you guys don’t need them anymore and sure are too busy to update them frequently. I had planned to keep on ignoring OneFatBitchypoo, actually. Ha! No, I don’t know. I occasionally think about updating, but I don’t wanna. And then I think about taking it down, then I get an email from someone who’s read every single entry and found it educational or entertaining and I think I’ll just leave it up at least for the time being. Probably what I’ll do is ignore it until I hit the two-years-from-surgery point (end of January), update it with an entry and pictures, update it a few more times during the plastic surgery process (sometime before Spring, I’m hoping), and then just update it a time or two every year. I think Fred’s just planning to keep on ignoring OnePhatMan, though.

 

Robyn, have you seen that Haven Kimmel (of a Girl Named Zippy) has a new novel out? I’ve just picked it up from the library – it’s called The Used World. I did not know that! I’m a little leery, though. I tried reading The Solace of Leaving Early and then Something Rising (Light and Swift), but didn’t care for either of those at ALL. I adored Zippy – it’s one of my favorite books, ever – and I liked She Got Up Off the Couch, so I don’t know why I can’t get into her novels. Let me know how this one is, maybe third try will be the charm!

 

Some information for those of you who feed your cats Purina Cat Food: I thought I would share this bit of information about Purina Cat Food that I know I wasn’t aware of. I had to rush my one year old neutered male cat to the animal hospital yesterday morning for emergency surgery due to a complete urinary blockage. I am sure you have all heard of that..the crystals that develop in the bladder, and if one moves into the urethra as the cat tries to urinate, it blocks it and the toxins back up into the bladder, the cat can’t pee and is in horrible pain. It is a life threatening situation and scared the heck out of me to see my little guy in so much pain. Now, about the Purina. My veterinary office staff told me that 90% of neutered male “blocked” cats (and I guess the neutered male is most likely to become blocked) are on Purina cat food. I know Gusgus was. I was told that the fibre and vegetable content, which sounds like a good thing, often leads to these crystals being formed. Apparently (and I am only quoting what I was told at the vet’s..I haven’t Googled it) Purina is the sole brand of cat food with those ingredients. They suggest Iams. Anyway, Gusgus had his intravenous and catheter removed this morning and I am to leave him there until this evening to make sure he is peeing on his own. He is probably very scared and I am sick about all this. He is an indoor cat, very spoiled and never been alone at night. Poor baby. And as a side note? $800.00 to fix it. yikes. He started out on Kitten Chow, then to the Cat Chow , and more recently he was eating Fancy Feast Gourmet Gold (dry). He doesn’t like human food of any sort so the only other treats he got were Whiskas Temptations. I really don’t want to alarm anyone but just felt it was worth passing along. I am going to be nervous for a very long time yet since the problem doesn’t go away with a switch in food from what I understand. It should stop new ones from forming though. He likely still has crystals in his bladder and its not uncommon for another to work its way down. Hopefully it won’t get to this point ever again though! And then someone added: “They suggest Iams.” My guy was exclusively on Iams and developed a partial urinary crystalization blockage. My vet switched him to Royal Canin Urinary SO – this food has a higher sodium content that makes cats drink more, to help flush out the crystals, plus it’s formulated to help prevent or minimize several kinds of crystals from forming in the first place. It’s expensive, and where I am, only available through vets. But it has helped my guy get better. I just wanted to add this info as a cautionary tale about Iams. It’s not necessarily the best alternative (although I know cats who have never had a problem on it too). YMMV! Thanks for sharing, y’all! I don’t feed our cats Purina, but I’m sure lots of people out there do, and appreciate the information.

 

Nosy question for Friday’s Q&A…… Fred has a boss? I could’ve sworn that he and 2 other guys owned their company, but maybe I’m thinking of somebody else. Heh – no less than six of you asked this same question! Yes, Fred owns his own company along with two other men, but they do contract work for a government agency, so as contract workers, they have to answer to (and mostly avoid pissing off) higher-ups. So “boss” maybe wasn’t the correct word to use there – “customer” would be more appropriate.

 

I saw on Oprah today how people who’ve had weight loss surgery divert their eating addiction over into a different addiction like sex or booze. I was wondering…do you think you’ve become an eggaholic? My name is Robyn, and I am a lifelong eggaholic. It started with scrambled eggs, moved on to omelets, and now I can be found in front of the refrigerator at all hours, nibbling hard-boiled eggs, deviled eggs, and egg salad! I love eggs, but it’s nothing new. I always have! And eggs? They are not only incredible, but edible. Better an addiction to eggs than booze or pot, I always say. (Well, I don’t “always” say it. In fact, that would be the first time I’ve ever said it. But I’ll say it more in the future!) Too much egg salad won’t lead to me waking up in an alley with vomit down the front of me. Or I hope it won’t!

 

I know this sounds goofy and maybe you already tried it, but why don’t you put the baggies in the muffin pans, put the egg in and then freeze them? Because that is an obvious solution and thusly (of course) never occurred to me. I’ll be doing it in the future, though. Thanks for the suggestion!

 

How cold is it getting out there in the country? Will the Chickens make it through the winter as-is or will Fred be heating their coop? I know your “not-ours” cats have a heated house, what about Frick and the girls? Also… do you have a “must-have” item on your Christmas List? Family is asking me for a list and I can’t come up with anything practical. It’s been pretty warm for the last several days, actually – it got up very close to 80 at one point! It’s cooled off a lot (it’s 45F outside right now), and I expect our surprise touch of summer is over. Don’t quote me on this, but I believe the overnight temperature will be regularly going down into the 30s and 40s, with an occasional dip into the 20s. Fred did put a heat lamp in the chicken coop when it got cold last month, but after some discussion with the people he talks to regularly on a forum he frequents, it was decided that was unnecessary (and the heat lamp was spooking the chickens, too), as chickens get along pretty well in the cold. And the not-ours cats don’t even need that damn heated house; they’re spending every night inside, now. Last night, Newt opted for a middle of the night game of “Who’s gonna bite The Momma’s toes?” (Answer: He is!) I don’t have any “must-have” items on my Christmas list, no. Anyone who asks gets directed to my Amazon wish list, which is four pages long. Yeah, it’s not particularly fun to shop for someone off their wish list, but hey – at least you know they’re getting something they wanted! (However, if cost was not an issue, I’d be asking for a Roomba!)

 

Over the years that you’ve been sending cards to blog readers, what is your sent to received ratio? Has it fluctuated from year to year, or steadily increased/decreased? I’ll need to do some research on this one, and will answer it in Monday’s entry!

 

So Stinkerbelle seemed okay yesterday morning, then she vomited a few times (but no blood, thank god) and then we realized that she was hungry and eating, but every time she got something in her stomach, she vomited it back up within a few minutes. I called the vet and asked if there was any over-the-counter stuff we could give her, and they said there was really nothing they could recommend. It was 4:30 by the time I called, and so I asked if I could make an appointment to bring her in, assuming they’d tell me to bring her in this morning, but they said I could bring her in right then, and so I told Fred to box her up and we’d go, and he was all “But the CHICKENS! The chickens can’t be out after DARK!” and I got mad and took the cat (HIS CAT) to the vet my own self and the vet looked her over carefully, did a thorough exam, said The Stank wasn’t acting like a cat who had a blockage and she tended to agree with the emergency vet’s opinion that it was a virus, gave her subcutaneous fluids with anti-nausea medicine added, and some oral medication to take home with me. The Stank ate at snack time and kept it down (THANK GOD) and we shot her with some anti-nausea medication this morning just in case (and she fought like the hellion she is), and so far she’s acting fine. I’ll be keeping an eye on her, but hopefully she’s about over this. Last night Spanky and Sugarbutt both barfed. This morning, Spanky barfed again. We hit him with the anti-nausea medicine. I think that’s all we can do for the next few days. I suspect it’s going to go through the cats like wildfire and I’m gearing up my barf-wiping arm as the Stank Virus takes down the And3rson kitties one by one. All we can do is get them through it – there’s nothing we can do to prevent it. Ugh. Hey! Know what would be the BEST thing EVER in the week and a half before Christams? If I got a really bad cold AND the cats made it a 24-hour barf-o-rama around here. That would be FABULOUS. Happy holidays! We can barf if we want to We can leave your friends behind Cause your friends don’t barf And if they don’t barf Well they’re no friends of mine

 

Previously 2006: “MY BABY IS IN PAIN, MAKE IT STOP!” 2005: I’m impressed with myself, if you couldn’t tell. 2004: It is in the 20s here today, IS IT OKAY FOR ME TO BE COLD NOW? 2003: (”Thanks, me! I’m so thoughtful!”) 2002: No entry. 2001: Trust me, it was far more horrifying-looking in person. 2000: Babbling. 1999: No entry.

]]>

 

From: Robyn To: Fred Date: December 12, 2007. Subject: ::drool:: Come home and make some of these for me, would you? My knee hurts and it’s drizzling outside, so I’m going to go back to bed and read for a while, and then I think I’m just going to go ahead and become a bed person. Alert Richard Simmons, thx.

 

My Bed Person plans met a pretty quick end when (1) Fred wouldn’t come home and make me up a bunch of biscuit sandwiches and (2) I got bored reading and had to roll my ass out of bed. It was fun for all of those 24 minutes, though. I love my life as a non-working slacker slug, but there are days when there are so many things that need to be done, and none of them are things that I WANT to do and really none of them are that URGENT, that I just kind of lay there and my mind screams my list of stuff to do at me, and I’m paralyzed by the “I don’t wanna do THAT”s. When that happens, I let the reasonable part of my brain (a very small part of my brain, I’ll hasten to point out before you haters think it to yourselves) take over and make me a list. Yesterday morning at 8:22 my list was: 1. Get out of bed. 2. Check my email. 3. Take a shower. 4. Spend some time with Punki and Felicia. 5. Finish cleaning out the garage. Usually I have to say the list out loud to myself, since that makes it more official to me. What would make it super-duper official to me would be writing it down. Oh! Or making a fancy list in Word complete with graphics and boxes for checking off each when it’s been accomplished. That would be WAY official. But I think for the time being I’ll stick with the spoken-aloud list, and if that fails to continue feeling official enough, I’ll move on to the written word. So I did the first four things on my list, and when I was done hanging out with Punki and Felicia (my hanging-out time with them is pretty much brought to an end when they decide they’ve had about all the petting they can stand, and they go over and start eating in a dismissive “You may go.” fashion), I got my iPod and went out to the garage to finish what I’d started Tuesday afternoon. Fred’s been saying that it was time for another trip to the dump, so I decided before he did that, I needed to get the garage straightened out, and all the trash piled up so we could get rid of all the trash in one trip. Tuesday afternoon I took care of the downstairs of the garage, coming up with a nice big pile of trash, and another (smaller) pile of stuff to donate to a local charity. Yesterday morning, once I got going, I straightened and cleaned out the upstairs part of the garage. It didn’t take long – maybe an hour – and when I was done I had a bunch more trash to add to the pile and a few more things to add to the donation pile, but at least it was done. I think what we really need in the upstairs part of the garage are either a few shelf units, or maybe just some shelves hung from the wall, but really how organized does it need to be? There’s the Danielle’s-storage section, the Christmas-stuff storage section, the luggage-storage section, and the other-crap storage section, and there’s actually not a whole lot of stuff up there. Plenty of room for more! That accomplished, I went back into the house, ate breakfast, watched The Real Housewives (HATE Tamra, and could Vicki have been more of a jealous bitch when she found out that Quinn was dating a 26 year-old? How is it her concern, again? Could Tamra be more of a plastic, hateful, insecure bitch?), a few minutes of Oprah, some other assorted random stuff, and then spent more time with Punki and Felicia. Read magazines. Checked for eggs. Did some vacuuming. Thought about rearranging the computer room (but since I’ll need help with that, I put it off). Puttered around online. Went through some pictures and uploaded them to be printed out. Talked to Fred on the phone. Took a 10-minute nap. Kissed Newt on top of his fuzzy head. And Yesterday, in the course of a few hours, Fred came home sick from work (everything in his body was fleein’ the interview), I started getting a sore throat and feeling fuzzy-headed, and once we were both feeling poorly, Stinkerbelle began vomiting blood. She’d vomited several times during the day (though we didn’t know it was her because all we were finding were the puddles of vomit with no cat around) and then she wouldn’t eat at snacktime (a rarity, because she’s the biggest pig of them all) and then Fred found her in the process of vomiting, and there was a LOT of blood. We took her to the emergency vet, because we always (I always, really) tend toward the OMIGOD SHE’S DYING! hysteria when it comes to the cats. After an examination and hearing about the foster kitties doing the same thing, the vet said he thought it was most likely a virus. They could have done the x-ray and blood tests, but he seemed pretty confident that it was a virus (the blood was bright red, which meant it was from irritation of her esophagus; if there’d been blood in her stomach, it would have been darker and would have looked like coffee grounds) and offered up something to coat her throat and soothe the irritation, and an antibiotic just in case, so we went that route. (A side note on Stinkerbelle: (1) She is SO SMART. Almost every time she vomited yesterday, it was near the litter box. All the other cats just barf wherever they happen to be, but our smart girl knew that you’re supposed to vomit in (near) the toilet! (2) I was sure there was going to be a real issue with a strange person touching her – I thought she’d probably growl and hiss and fight like crazy, but she was an ANGEL. (3) The vet tech said that Stinkerbelle was a beautiful cat, and I could see Fred’s ego swell to twice its size.) This morning, Stinkerbelle is acting like her old self (though she did vomit a little after eating), Fred is feeling a thousand times better, and my sore throat is mostly gone. Yesterday didn’t include exercise, because my left knee hurts and it was drizzling out. No exercise today, either. I’ve already showered, and I have a doctor’s appointment (a regular appointment with my gastroenterologist wherein he will feel up my liver, send me for bloodwork and tell me to come back in six months. Probably, he’ll also mention once more that the Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis isn’t a definite diagnosis, just that they’ve ruled out everything else so that’s probably what it is, and he’s never had a woman with it before, though he recently diagnosed a 30 year-old male with it. I’m a freak of nature! Or, as I remind him, the exception that proves the rule.) in a little while. Once I’ve showered, I don’t exercise. It’s the LAW. After that, I’m coming home, picking up the stuff I’m donating, and hauling it off to be donated. After that, who knows? Maybe I’ll get crazy and do some grocery shopping.

 

Spanky’s got the Lady-whatchoo-doin-out-there… …get-your-butt-in-here-so-I-can-keep-a-proper-eye-on-you… …bluuuuuuuuuuues.

 

Previously 2006: I think we’re making progress. 2005: It’s hard to resist a chunky little orange kitty. 2004: (I’m not that much of an asshole. But it sure is fun to imagine!) 2003: Yet another meme. 2002: But I’ll say this – if your kitten is suffering from anal leakage, y’all, TAKE IT TO THE VET. 2001: No entry. 2000: “Why does it smell lemony fresh down here?” 1999: Martha Stewart would take one look at my tree and sob loudly, I’m sure.]]>

VistaPrint, and I recommend them.

 

The Daily Gus. Too cute!

 

In honor of tonight’s season finale of Kid Nation, I present to you the kids of Kid Nation as we see them. Alex, the 9 year-old from Nevada. He seems like a good kid, and a smart one as well. However, we cannot get past one certain physical feature, and thusly we refer to him, without fail, as “The Tooth.” Jared, the 11 year-old from Georgia. Another one that seems to be a good kid, and quite smart (his discussion of Quantum Physics on last week’s show went over Fred’s head – and mine as well, it should go without saying). However, we cannot get out of our heads the time, during one of the first episodes, when there was a strong wind storm going on, and Jared ran through the center of town screaming “IT’S A TWISTAAAAAAR!” I call him “Twistar Boy.” I’m sure he’s a wonder to behold and all, but my god he gets all over my nerves. Olivia, the 12 year-old from Indiana. I do not possess the words to describe to you all just how very much I loathe this child. Every time they show her, she’s got a smug smirk on her face, and I itch to slap it off. She disapproves of, well, just about everything. She did a horrific “comic” performance on Talent Night. GOD PLEASE HELP ME STOP HATING THIS CHILD. I cannot tell you what I call her, but you can probably imagine. HATE. Taylor, the 10 year-old from Georgia. Doesn’t do anything she doesn’t wanna do. Her team is supposed to be cleaning? Well, that’s too goddamn bad. Taylor don’t wanna. She’s a beauty queen! GOD! Beauty queens don’t CLEAN! One week she refused to do any work, so they wouldn’t let her take part in the reward (a game room). She responded by doing some work, and they acted like she had singlehandedly saved the world, and carted her through town like she was the Princess of Everything. We call her “The Princess”, and every week we talk about her resemblance to Stinkerbelle. Those two are pretty, but they always look really pouty. Mike, the 11 year-old from Washington. We call him “Twitchy.” That boy cannot sit still. He twitches. And twitches. And twitches some more. I don’t know if he’s uncomfortable or has ADD or just plain has ants in his pants, but I don’t recall one word the boy has ever said, because just watching him makes me twitchy. Greg, the 15 year-old from Nevada. Sometimes he’s an ass, sometimes he’s a sweetheart. Actually, his kneejerk reaction to just about anything is to be an ass, but once he steps back and thinks about it, he can be pretty reasonable. He’s very good with the little kids. I like Greg; he’s got a good heart. Sophia, the 14 year-old from Florida. She’s 14 going on 44. This kid is WAY too wise for her years. She annoys me sometimes, but overall I kind of like her. And I don’t think this is the last we’ll be seeing from Sophia – girlfriend has herself a future political career, I can just feel it. When they made her the sheriff of Bonanza, there was definitely the potential for an abuse of power, but she surprised us with her even-handed, diplomatic approach. Laurel, the 12 year-old from Massachusetts. She’s my favorite. I LOVE HER. She can do ANYTHING. Just about every kid on this show has a good heart (EXCEPT FOR OLIVIA OMG I HATE HER), and I think they did a pretty good job casting the show. It was probably necessary to have such a large cast to keep the town running, but even now at the end of the series, we’ll say “Who the hell is THAT?” when some kid’s face flashes across the screen. Also, 3/4 of the boys on this show needs a damn HAIR CUT. GET THE HAIR OUT OF YOUR FACE, GAHHHHH! I don’t know if they’re ever going to be able to do this show again, what with all the brouhaha and the shooting restrictions, but the second season in any reality series is never as good as the first anyway, as Survivor and Amazing Race have shown us. I’m sure if Kid Nation comes around again, we’ll be watching it. We can’t get enough of mocking children, obviously.

 

The other day I read the first Danielle Steel book I’ve read in many a year. I used to read all her books, and then they kind of got to be all the same overblown super-romantic crap (no offense, Danielle Steel lovers), so I stopped reading them. But then I saw His Bright Light, the story of her 19 year-old manic-depressive (do they call it “bipolar” now? I can’t keep up.) son who had committed suicide, and I bought it. I must have read a positive review of it somewhere. Here’s the thing – the book was published in 1998. I had it in hardcover, which means I bought it before it came out in paperback, which means I must have bought it sometime in 1998 or 1999. Which means that it’s been sitting on my bookcase for 8 or 9 years. I’m telling you, the book-buying thing. It’s an illness! Anyway, when I picked up the book, I was positive that I’d read 10 pages, decide it was treacly crap, and toss it on the pile of books I’m sending my sister. I actually got interested in the story and read the whole thing. I mean, it was still over-the-top (he was the most brilliant, talented, good-looking, charming child in the entire world, apparently. And everyone who ever came into contact with him adored him immediately and still do. Apparently.) and treacly and needed to be skimmed in a few (MANY) places, but the overall story of 19 years of living and dealing with a manic-depressive (bipolar…ist?) was… well, it was kind of depressing, actually. He took up so much of her time and energy, you’ve got to wonder how she found the time and energy to devote to her writing and her other children. Worth a read, I think. Don’t go out and buy it (and let it sit on your bookcase for 8 or 9 years), but worth a read if you see it on the discount rack or in the library or a friend wants to lend it to you. Next up: The Shell Seekers, because several of you said I should move it up in the queue. You better be right, people.

 

Speaking of Danielle Steel, after the spud was born my father asked if I’d named her after Danielle Steel. And I said “NO. If I’d named her after Danielle Steel, I would have named her Danielle Steel, not Danielle Leigh.” Like, DUH. Up until a few weeks before she was born, she was going to be Jessica. Now I can’t imagine her as a Jessica.

 

Ellie-Belly didn’t want to go to the pet store yesterday. She tried hiding in a box. She tried charming me by falling asleep with her tongue sticking out of her mouth. All to no avail. I went upstairs to hang with Punki and Felicia (I let Elle hang out in the house Monday and yesterday morning), and as always, when she heard me approach the foster room, Elle came running. I sat and snuggled with her, and let her eat, and then I kissed her behind the ear, apologized, and stuffed her in the cat carrier. She kept quiet most of the way to the pet store, occasionally letting me know she was not happy about this development. Once we were in the cat room, I let her out of the carrier, and she didn’t act scared at all. Skittles, on the other hand, was hiding in the kitty condo in their cage, and wouldn’t come out. Poor monkey. Keep your fingers crossed that she gets adopted this weekend, y’all. I’m only so strong. ****************************** Miss Stinky likes to hang out on the wall between the kitchen and dining room to keep an eye on things.

 

Previously 2006: I did a lot of nothing yesterday 2005: (If you must know, it’s the “Tinferl” that really hit my funny bone. I don’t know. Don’t look at me like that. Shaddup.) 2004: Those two just make me shudder. And not in a good way. 2003: “Hey!” he thought to himself. “I think that might be the same bird and the same feeder!” 2002: “That’s okay, Bessie. I hate you sometimes, too,” he said. 2001: No entry. 2000: A blue spark leapt from my tender, sensitive pinky finger to the door of the Jeep in the Wal-Mart parking lot, and I all but screamed. 1999: But if I end up MIA, y’all know where to tell the cops to look…

]]>