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1-31-08

by @ Thursday, January 31st, 2008. Filed under Life

 

Comment-answering extravaganza tomorrow! Get ’em in while the gettin’ is hot!

 

I should have mentioned, perhaps, when I was posting pictures of my skeery crazy zombie eye that it doesn’t hurt at all. Both my eyes hurt Saturday, just an achy, strained feeling, but since then I’ve been feeling just fine. I’ll occasionally forget about the zombie eye and then get all surprised when I look in the mirror. Also, sometimes when I take my contacts out at night, I think “Wouldn’t it just suck if I popped my contact out of my crazy zombie eye and my cornea popped off with it?!” That would totally suck, dudes.

 

I adore the holy hell out of this site.

 

Did I mention that after we got home from turning the dog over to Meg (that’s the name of the vet tech who took him), I spent an hour or so cleaning? The bathroom, especially, because it smelled like dog (since that’s where he was eating and sleeping). I actually had to get down on my hands and knees with a scrub brush and hot water with a little bleach added, and scrub the floors to get the stains (from dog food and one unfortunate accident) out of the grout. It still smelled a little like dog, but in the days since, the smell has dissipated. I didn’t realize Spot was the one doing it, but for weeks there have been cat foot prints leading from the upstairs bathroom, down the hallway, and down the stairs. I’d clean them up, they’d reappear when I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t know why I didn’t know Spot was the one doing it, because I did know that he would practically swim in the water bowl when he was drinking from it, but somehow the light bulb didn’t go on over my head. No more kitty footprints from the bathroom to the bottom of the stairs, and I’m a little sad about that.

 

Not a whole lot going on, so… how about some pictures? Time to clear off the memory stick! Couple of weekends ago, a great huge flock of black birds landed in the back forty and pecked at the ground and squabbled with each other and pecked at the ground some more, and then flew off. I don’t know if they were grackles or some other kind of bird, but what I do know is that they were LOUD. The cats adore hanging out on the wall between the dining room and computer room – and the dining room and kitchen. I’m forever washing dirty cat prints off, only to have them dirtied up later that same day. I love the way Newt will sleep just about anywhere, secure in the knowledge that no one will hurt him, considering that it took us a long time to get him to trust us. I love the way, when he’s outside and sees me walking toward the house, he runs at me, skids to a stop and flops over on his back. I love his high-pitched, girly meow. He’s just the sweetest cat on earth. Note how close to Stinkerbelle Skittles is laying. Note that Stinkerbelle is NOT having a hissy fit. Will wonders never cease? Skittles is the only cat who can balance on the footboard like that. The other cats go sliding off. “Hellooooooo little ladies!” Couple of weeks ago, it snowed. The girlz were not impressed. I swear to you that that litter box was brand new and had never been used AND it had no litter in it at the time. I just hadn’t gotten around to putting it in the laundry room yet – it replaced the Litter Robot, which is sitting in the garage and STILL waiting for me to email the company and complain about the broken globe. Mister Boogers and Stinkerbelle cuddling (!). Stinkerbelle gets tired of the camera action, and moves across the bed, next to Skittles. Though this picture doesn’t show it, there was some licking action going on there. Mister Boogers, Elleh-Belleh, and Spanky keep sleeping. More sniffing. More licking. Skittles looks annoyed. Stinkerbelle decides that if she’s going to be licking anyone, it should be her own self, and proceeds to bathe vigorously. Skittles gets annoyed and stomps off.

 

Previously 2007: Spring, where art thou? 2006: No entry. 2005: Hey, can you eat raw kale? 2004: No entry. 2003: My whole life is a vicious circle, really. 2002: No entry. 2001: I mean, what the fuck did I do? 2000: Yeah, I know, woe is me.]]>

1-30-08

by @ Wednesday, January 30th, 2008. Filed under Life

He was a cute dog and all, but I’ve gotta say – every encounter I have with a dog just drives home the fact that I – we, really – are absolutely not dog people in any way, shape or form (no offense, dog people – I completely understand when people say they don’t like cats. Well, no I don’t, I just pretend to). All the having to let them outside to go to the bathroom, the slobbered dog food, the walks (although the walks weren’t bad. Probably because I didn’t do any of them. HA HA!), the following me around JUDGING ME (okay, it was pretty freakin’ cute that he kept laying down beside me and sleeping, all devoted-like). I’d absolutely do the same thing again, and I fully expect to have to deal with stray dogs finding our house again (since that’s one of the downsides of living in the country, people dump their animals off and believe they’ll live full and happy lives “in the wild”, grrrr) and I will make sure they’re fed and do my best to find them homes, but I’d rather have six more cats in this house than one dog any day. Visiting dogs = okay. Permanent dogs = not gonna happen. Y’all who thought we were going to keep the dog despite my protestations, well, SOMETIMES I MEAN WHAT I SAY! So there! And by the way, when Fred was telling the vet tech about how we’re totally cat people, he said “In fact, we have 10 cats in our house right now!” I opened my mouth to correct him, to remind him that we had 11 cats, DUH, when I remembered that we didn’t, and got all teary-eyed.

 

BOO! (pic) To me, it looks like it’s getting better (this is how it looked on Saturday), but when I ask Fred, he just shudders and says “It looks HORRIBLE.” It would be nice if it mostly went away before next Tuesday, when I have my two-year followup with my gastric bypass surgeon, so I don’t have to say “I dumped like nobody’s business, and every blood vessel in my body popped.” Speaking of my appointment next Tuesday, I had to have blood drawn so I could have all my levels checked and the surgeon would have my results before my appointment, and so I went to a lab in Madison. They didn’t have my doctor in their system, so I had to provide his name and number and all that. When I was back in the blood-drawing room, the phlebotomist casually said “What kind of doctor is he? An eye doctor?” and I said “No, I had gastric bypass two years ago blah blah follow up appointment.” It wasn’t until I was halfway home that I realized the reason she’d assume he was an eye doctor. Duh. I loathe going out in public with my eye all zombie-like, because I feel like people look at me and think “DAY-UM, someone got her a good one. PROBABLY HER HUSBAND, SHE’S AN ABUSED WIFE! SOMEONE CALL THE COPS LET’S SAVE THIS POOR LADY!” And the most ridiculous thing is that I feel GUILTY when they do a double-take. Guilty. What the fuck? “Please just ring up my groceries and stop looking at me, thx.” (flickr) Fred says (DISCLAIMER: JOKES ABOUT DOMESTIC ABUSE ARE NOT FUNNY AT ALL. UNLESS YOU MAKE IT ABOUT A MAN WHO CARRIES SPIDERS OUTSIDE INSTEAD OF SQUISHING THEM. THEN IT IS HILARIOUS.) I should look at them and say “He didn’t have to tell me twice!” (READ THE DISCLAIMER AGAIN. )

 

McLovin (in the front) got up on the fence because he likes to do that and crow proudly, and so Frick decided to join him. This disturbed McLovin a LOT, and finally he hopped down off the fence and chased a yellow chicken around. ___________________ Miz Poo thinks a rooster dinner would be TASTY. Miss Stank by the fire last weekend.

 

Previously 2007: How old are these guys, that you’ve got to tell them to flush the toilet, I’m wondering. 2006: Off to the hospital! 2005: No entry. 2004: Poor Bean. 2003: About the cats. 2002: When did Dick Gephardt die? 2001: The illness continues. 2000: I am officially the laziest chick in the world.]]>

1-29-08

by @ Tuesday, January 29th, 2008. Filed under Life

Spot J. Anders0n, 1993(ish) – January 28, 2008. Yesterday Fred and the vet determined that it was Spot’s time to go, and he was gently and peacefully let go. This is my entry in honor of him. Sadly, we don’t have any pictures of Spot from when he was little. This was back before digital cameras existed – if you can imagine – and I don’t think Fred even owned a camera before I moved down here. Spot belonged to Fred before I moved down here, so when we moved in with Fred, we were moving in on Spot’s territory. Spot was always a gentleman, though, and instead of responding territorially like some cats might, he mostly responded by hiding. One day Fred was at work and the spud was at school, and I was sitting in the living room petting Danielle’s cat (who later passed on), and Spot peeked out from his hiding place under the couch. He watched me petting the other cat, and he looked to me like he wanted to be petted but was too scared to come out and ask for it. I got down on the floor and he moved as far under the couch as he could get, and watched me. Much as I sweet-talked him, he wouldn’t come any closer. It took months before Spot would come out of hiding to hang out with us, but even that made him nervous, and he never stayed out for long. Several months after we moved in with Fred, we compounded the insult by bringing home a kitten. Spanky was a very little, very needy kitten, and when he saw Spot he saw a big cat who would take care of him. Spot would lay on the chair in Fred’s bedroom, and Spanky would climb up and snuggle up next to him. Spot would move from the chair to the bed, and Spanky would follow him and snuggle up close. Spot put up with Spanky’s needy snuggling, though it didn’t take very long before he’d get overwhelmed and run off to hide in a place where Spanky couldn’t find him. Moving from the apartment to our first house was a big deal for Spot, and the night after we’d moved in, we were unpacking when Spot started howling at the top of his lungs. Tired and annoyed, I snapped “I hope he’s not going to do THAT all night!” Turned out, the washer hose hadn’t been attached correctly, and water was spraying everywhere. He was just doing his part to let us know. Spot got a new experience when we moved into the new house, and that was being let outside. Our back yard was tiny, but he didn’t mind spending hours upon hours walking around the tiny lawn, sniffing every blade of grass and watching every bug fly by. He wasn’t really close to the other cats – he was a solitary creature, Spot was – but he didn’t mind so much when Tubby hung around him. Spot and Tubby, aside from having matching colors, were the same kind of cat. Neither would go out of their way to growl and strut around and proclaim how scary they were, but when it came right down to it, you’d want one of them guarding you, because they were quiet and they were quick and you knew that when the rubber hit the road – and a strange neighborhood cat came wandering through the yard – they’d totally kick butt. In his later years, Spot started to come out more often. Most nights, he’d settle on the back of the couch with us while we watched TV, and he staked claim to one of the cat beds on my desk where he could be found most days. If I ate lunch at my desk, he’d glare at me judgmentally until I shared a little of it with him. Every so often I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find Spot standing on the bed next to my pillow, staring down at me. Once he realized I saw him there, he’d curl up. He’d always be gone when I woke up in the morning. The older he’d get, the more easily he accepted change. At first, when we started fostering kittens, he’d hide for a couple of days before slinking out and sniffing around. As time went on, he’d look at the new arrivals as if to say “More? Whatever. They better not mess with me.” When we moved into this house, he took it in stride. “Another move? Just show me where the food and the litter box are. And keep the food bowl filled!” He was our oldest cat and we knew that one day we might have to face the idea of having him put to sleep. When Fred said that we should have Spot on the front of our Christmas card “Because we don’t know how much longer he’ll be around”, he was joking. We both thought for sure we’d have at least a few more good years. Spot seemed happy, he was eating fine, and he was glad that we put a bed in the guest bedroom just for him. He’d spend his mornings in the guest bedroom, in the sun, his afternoons alternating between sleeping on my desk and exploring the back yard, and his evenings in the living room with us as we watched TV. It was because of his quiet ways that it took us so long to realize he wasn’t feeling well, that he’d gotten so thin and wasn’t hanging out with us as much. Fred took him to the vet when we realized how thin he’d gotten, and Spot seemed to rally – it wasn’t until he started acting like his old self again that we realized how much he hadn’t been acting like himself. But in the last week, he stopped eating almost completely and we’d offer him several of his favorite foods before he’d eat a little, probably just to get us off his back. Sunday night he settled in the cat bed on my desk and stayed there all night. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable, moving every few minutes, and at times tipping over because he’d gotten so weak. Yesterday morning before I left for Petsmart, I scratched Spot behind the ears and kissed him on top of the head twice, just in case. I hoped that the vet would take one look at him and say “Oh, he just needs (whatever)” and when I got home, he’d be bright-eyed and ready for a brushing. But in the days before Tubby died, he got a certain look in his eyes – one that I didn’t understand at the time, but now I think it’s the look of a cat who’s ready to go. He was a sweet and gentle cat and sometimes it was easy to overlook him. You wouldn’t think his absence in the house would be so noticeable, but the void where he was is huge. Good boy, Spot. Good buddy.

 

Previously 2007: Obviously he just doesn’t love Joe Bob enough. 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: Okay, I promise that’s the last weepy I-miss-my-kitty entry. 2003: Bleach is the shit. 2002: Just for the record, Mike Tyson is the biggest fucking idiot in the entire world. 2001: How the hell am I going to get my ass on Survivor 3 if they’re looking for model types?? 2000: I was quite excited, as I recall. ]]>

1-28-08

by @ Monday, January 28th, 2008. Filed under Life

Edited to add (11:35 am): Spot is gone. My entry about him will be up tomorrow. “You s’pose they’re ever going to take this hideous bandanna off me?” Dog update: We have a line on a local dog rescue that can, hopefully, take Buddy. I’ll keep you updated – and if anyone within a couple hours’ drive wants him, please let me know. Otherwise, it would be kinder to turn him over to the rescue so he doesn’t have to deal with the stress of traveling a long distance. We tried contacting a board member of the Beagle Rescue Foundation of America who lives in Alabama at the suggestion of a commenter (thanks, Eliza!), and did get an email back from her but she was… well, Fred said “That’s the least helpful email I’ve ever gotten in my life!” and that’s the truth. Heh. We let him stay out of the bathroom all day yesterday, and he alternated between wandering around the house, following us (especially if we had food in our hands!), and finding various places to nap (at one point he was napping on the carpet in the foster cat room, with Tommy nearby. We call Tommy The Ambassador for good reason!) When I was walking around dusting, he kept following me, and I said to Fred “He is JUDGING ME!” Seriously, he looked at me like “You’re going to leave that there, then? You think that looks okay right there? Okay, then. If you must. That’s not what I would do, but I don’t guess it’s my house. Up to you!” He is absolutely house trained – he knew to lead me to the back door when he needed to go out, and he had no problem getting back in through the cat door. He does like to try to eat cat food (a problem I solved by moving the cat food to the dining room table. It’s not like WE ever use it!) and he tried to get in the garbage after I tossed a piece of paper towel that smelled like turkey bacon in it, so I had to move the garbage can to the counter. Yes, he is a good dog. No, we’re still not keeping him.

 

What are the specifics of the medicine you’re giving spot? Do you give it to him once a day or twice? And how’s he doing, poor guy? Twice a day he gets Az0dyl (for his kidneys) and Vi0kase (for his pancreas), and once a day he gets medicine for his thyroid. For a while, Spot seemed to rally – he’s been out more, hanging around us, he’s back to sleeping on my desk all day long. But now he’s not eating, not even his favorite foods aside from some tuna juice, and Fred weighed him yesterday morning to find that he’s lost more than a pound in the last two weeks. He didn’t even react to the dog, which is unlike him. We’re going to get him to the vet, hopefully today, but it isn’t looking good. And I should add that Fred did tell me that the vet wasn’t very encouraging when he took Spot there two weeks ago, but I heard “Might recover” and my hopeful brain turned it into “Should make a full recovery”. Read more about Spot in Fred’s entry.

 

What did you name the dog (c’mon, we know you did!)? At first I said “He looks like a Buster!”, but we’ve been calling him Buddy. I bet there are millions upon millions of male dogs named Buddy in this country.

 

How many shots did it take to get the perfect pose on those cat photos? I always take 15 or more and then pick out the best ones to keep. The pictures of Miz Poo and Mister Boogers, I think I actually posted all but about three of the ones I took; I’m just lucky my camera was within reach! Most of the time I take about 10 pictures for each picture I post, though it really depends.

 

Question, awhile back you posted a link to a website that had free ring tones to download…. do you remember what it was called? That would be Myxer Tones. I LOVE that site!

 

The Real Housewives, where was Vicki’s assistant? They did almost a whole show on her and we haven’t seen her since. How about Tamara’s $40,000 watch? What does her husband do for a living? And, did we have to see her getting her boobs readjusted at the surgeon? I cannot pull myself away from that show!!! I could go on and on and on. Good question! They like to focus on people during one show and then they never show up again! Maybe they needed filler for that show, so focused on Vicki’s assistant. Or maybe they’re setting up for a spinoff – “I Work for a Control Freak!” Tamra’s husband is a car salesman, I believe – salesman or manager of the salesmen? Or maybe owns his own dealership? One of those, anyway! I’m a recent Real Housewives convert. I like to watch it while working out at the gym. Keeps me motivated. I didn’t watch it when Jo was on it. Who is she exactly? I missed the episode last night, but I’ll catch it on a Saturday morning. Their houses/cars/weddings/barbecues are always so over the top. I can’t imagine dressing like they do for an outside barbecue. But, alas, I am addicted. I wonder if the new one about New York Housewives will be as interesting???? Are you going to watch that one? Jo was engaged to a guy named Slade Smil3y and she moved in with him in his big-ass house in Coto de Caza. They fought a lot and broke up a lot (they actually broke up at the end of Season 1, and he went off and dated Lauri for a while, then they were back together at the beginning of Season 2) and she wasn’t the type to stay home and clean house and that’s clearly what he wanted (or said he did, anyway), and eventually they broke up and she moved to LA to live with her friend. She apparently has a burgeoning singing career. She was fun to watch, but she liked to party a little too much, and Slade didn’t care for that. Also, Jo was good friends with Jeana’s son Shane, and the show tried to hint that there was more than friendship going on there, but never backed up those hints with anything real. I am absolutely going to watch Real Housewives of NYC (or whatever they’re calling it) – the DVR’s set up to tape! I hope it’s as entertaining as the OC Housewives are.

 

I almost peed my pants when Quinn showed up as Roxie!!!!! Is Roxie the new Christian Hooker? Hilarious! I thought the finale was a bit ho-hum disappointing really. I can’t believe Jo is going on “tour”. Yeah, right How on EARTH did I forget the horror show of Quinn dressing up as “Roxie”?! I had a really hard time watching that, because good GOD was it embarrassing to watch! And she and Billy are just so freakin’ AWKWARD together, I don’t get why she dated him for as long as she did.

 

You know, you should train those cats to come when called, and then when you get cold, you could summon them all to lay down all over you while you watch TV… Yeah, and I could see it now – someone would get too close to Miz Poo, she’d growl and hiss and then smack them, and then there’d be a fight on me, and I’d have to throw them all off me! It would certainly be entertaining, though!

 

Since you mentioned Stephen King …. Dumas Key is quite good so far! I have another 100 pages to make sure the ending doesn’t suck, but so far I’m having trouble putting it down long enough to do chores. I haven’t gotten it yet – it’s on the way – but I’m definitely looking forward to it!

 

Robyn – you can still surprise me. I thought you LOVED Dr. Phil! BTW, I totally agree w/you that Dr. Shill made a complete horse’s ass of himself in the Britney situation. Oprah needs to smack him, big time. Back when Dr. Phil was on Oprah and then first got his own show, I like him a lot, because he was a refreshing change of pace. But after a while, his shtick gets old. I haven’t watched an episode of Dr. Phil in at least a year, maybe longer. I’m just not feeling the Dr. Phil love anymore.

 

Thought you might get a kick out of this video. Love it!

 

OK, kind of random suggestion but the comment about torturing the cats with the Fur Real toy made me think about it: Take scotch tape (or a similar, light adhesive tape) and place a long strip from the base of your cat’s neck to the base of their tail and let the fun begin. They think they’re under something and slink around low and freaked out and it is sooo entertaining. I think Fred will love it! I have got to give this one a try. I can just imagine them slinking around, all low. And I’ll make sure I have the video camera all set to go!

 

If you have a New England BitchyCon, can we do a Southern one too? I’ll toss a snowball your way tomorrow (so says the weather person on TV, but I’ll believe it when I see it!) Hell, why not? I could do an area of the country each season. It would be the Great Bitchypoo Tour of ’08! 🙂

 

By the way, the hairless cat you mentioned reminded me of the “Friends” episode when Rachel gets one. Was it Joey who asked if the cat was inside-out? Bwah! Mrs. Whiskerson! I always, always think of that episode when I think of hairless cats.

 

We really enjoyed Harold and Kumar, especially the NPH parts. And can’t wait for the sequel to come out, mainly for the NPH parts. Hubby is wondering if since he’s playing himself and he’s come out in public if they’ll have something that relates to that. Either way, I can’t wait. I wondered that exact same thing – will the character of Neil Patrick Harris remain the same as in the original movie, or will “real life” come into it? Maybe he’ll disappoint Harold & Kumar by being in a happy, monogamous relationship. Or maybe he’ll be a man whore, still, only batting for the other team this time around. You KNOW I’ll be renting that movie as soon as it comes out on DVD! I adore Neil Patrick Harris, and anyone who’s a NPH fan should check out How I Met Your Mother; he’s hilarious!

 

Were you just cold because you’re a cold person or was it related to being sick? I was (am) cold just because of the weather and our old house doesn’t keep out of the cold all that well. But as long as I have the heater next to me in the computer room and the electric blanket on me in the living room, I’m fine. As long as the outside temperature is above 50, I’m usually okay; once it gets lower, I start to complain.

 

Have you looked at the litter box cleaning info on http://www.catinfo.org/litterbox.htm ? It seems like it would take forever, but it keeps my boxes fresher than before and is really not a pain at all. I don’t know why on earth it never occurred to me to clean the places where the litter balls stuck to the side of the litter box each time I clean the litter box. It seems obvious, and that it would help keep the litter and litterbox cleaner for longer, but as usual the obvious things go right over my head and I never think of them. Thanks for that link – I found that page very interesting.

 

A quickie fix for a heated water source is a fish tank heater. Plug it in and drop it into any water bowl and voila! Cheap and easy. The woman working at the pet store we visited on Sunday actually suggested that very thing, but when we read the back of the package, it said that it shouldn’t be stuck to the bottom of a bowl and it wasn’t meant to be used outside, so we didn’t dare to try it.

 

I hope you get your pellet stove — but THIS is why you should have goats! Sugarbutt certainly deserves one of his own….forget Fred. Oh man, that is TOO cute!

 

What the hell is a pellet stove, though? Should I be bargaining with Pookie for one? Inquiring minds want to know. Basically, a pellet stove is a stove that burns processed pellets made of corn. It’s kinder to the environment and more controllable than a regular wood stove (at least, that’s the impression I get). I’ve been lobbying for a pellet stove for the front room and a regular wood stove for the dining room, but I don’t know how successful I’m going to be.

 

They’re talking about Pellet Stoves today on TreeHugger. Must have read your post. Thanks for the link!

 

I have a question about pellet stoves though. They go on the outside of your house, which I like, but do you have the smokey smell in the house still? My only experience with a pellet stove is the one that my father has, so keep in mind that I’m not a big expert or anything. I didn’t notice any kind of smoky smell in my parents’ house at all, and I’m pretty sure I would have noticed.

 

If you are looking for a good movie, based on a true story, check out Cinderella Man with Russell Crowe and Renee Zellweger. Keep a box of Puffs nearby!!! We watched it last year, I think, and liked it a lot – and recommend it!

 

Ha– I’m surprised nobody else asked this, but why were you eating while wearing a winter coat? Ahem. I might have been transporting ice cream from the ice cream place to home, and some of it got away from me and dribbling down the front of my coat. Maybe. And also, do you have a recipe for the Shepard’s Pie? I’ll put it up in the recipe section when I get around to it (here it is! Also, here’s our favorite beef stroganoff recipe while I’m at it) but for now, here it is: 1 lb lean ground beef 1 onion, chopped 1 can creamed corn 1 can green beans (I like French cut) Three large potatoes Peel and quarter the potatoes; put ’em in a pot, fill with water, boil until potatoes are tender. Meanwhile, put the ground beef and the onion in a large pan and brown. When the ground beef is browned through and the onions are translucent, remove from heat and drain. Put the ground beef and onion in a glass dish – I use a 2.5 liter Corningware covered casserole dish, but have used other bowls; it really all depends on what’s handy. Open and drain the green beans; dump on top of the ground beef mixture. Open the can of creamed corn and dump on top of that. Salt and pepper the top of the creamed corn. (Note: it’s important to make the creamed corn the top layer, so the “cream” part of the corn can sink down through everything and make it yummy.) When the potatoes are ready, mash them. I usually mash mine with a little milk and butter substitute (just enough to give it a slight buttery taste) and salt and pepper; if you have a particular favorite way to mash them, go for it. When the potatoes are mashed, spread them across the top of the beef/onion/green beans/creamed corn mixture. (I like to make extra mashed potatoes to feed to the chickens, because they really like their carbs.) Bake at 350º for 30 minutes or until the top of the potatoes are slightly browned. I think Shepherd’s Pie would be good with peas added in, but Fred’s not the fan of peas like I am so I leave them out.

 

just passing along this website a friend sent to me and I thought you would enjoy! www.lolcats.com Now, that one I hadn’t seen! Is there anything funnier than LOLcats? I think NOT. For those of you who haven’t already seen it, there’s also I Can Has Cheezburger and Cute Overload (which isn’t a LOLcats site, but still always worth looking at!). Sadly, LOLSecretz is shutting down.

 

I love the rug in the kitty pics…..Where did you find it? Oddly enough, we got all our rugs at the local flea market!

 

Pet adoption idea. Since you foster some of these cats, and take such wonderful photos of them, why don’t you print out the best of, for instance, Skittles, laminate and tape these over her cage when she goes to the pet store. That way people can see how much fun Skittles is and was when she was being fostered. And if she’s adopted, the photos go with her. Maybe. I’ll have to check with the shelter manager on that – the pet store that houses the cats up for adoption has some guidelines about what’s okay and what isn’t, and I’m not sure they’d be okay with pictures on the cat cages, so I’ll have to see what she says.

 

I dreamed that you died last night Robyn. It was horrible! Fred had setup a condolences page on your site but he wouldn’t explain how you died which was extremely irritating. I actually woke up crying! NOT a fun dream. It was pretty intense though for someone that has never met you. Oh, I HATE those dreams! For what it’s worth, I’ve told Fred that if I suddenly keel over, he’s to post on my site and tell everyone what’s what. And if he doesn’t, probably Nance would say SOMETHING, even if it’s “The leprechauns got her! Too much joy!” or Jane might say “The stress of trying to figure out figure out whether to use its or it’s finally did her in!” If nothing else, someone would find something out and post in the comments. So yes, if I suddenly stop updating and Fred has nothing to say, keep checking the comments. Sooner or later someone’s going to find out how I kicked off and post the information there!

 

Will you and/or Fred be lining up at a local comic book store to purchase The Long Road Home #1, which goes on sale at 12:01am, March 5th, 2008? I know you are a huge Dark Tower fan (as am I,) and the thought that this comic book series is going to give fans more insight into Roland is just very appealing. I haven’t bought a comic book (if they’re even called that anymore – maybe “graphic novel”?) in over 20 years. I kind of go back and forth on the subject. I’m no comic book fan, but I do adore the hell out of the Dark Tower series. I don’t believe there’s anything on earth that would compel me to line up anywhere at midnight, but probably I’ll be buying the comic book/ graphic novel at some point in the future. Maybe I’ll wait and see if other Dark Tower fans say whether it’s worth buying!

 

Try this one too! www.miniclip.com/hangaroo.htm Oh, you evil people and your fun games! I have discovered that I am not so good at hangman… YET!

 

Do you feel differently towards the “owner” of buddy now? I know that it cant be proven but wow.. I have to say that anyone that could look at any animal (certainly one that was such bad shape that buddy was) and not feel involuntary reaction of wanting to help it.. Is vile. What I feel, honestly, is confusion. It’s not like we really KNOW the guy who owned him, other than to stop at his vegetable stand a few times – Fred even bought a couple of watermelons from him to feed the girlz. But he seemed like a decent guy, and I don’t understand how he could let Buddy get into this kind of shape. Someone suggested that maybe the dog is ill and that’s why he’s so thin and I might be inclined to agree with that, but the fact that he fell on the first can of food we gave him like he was starving to death kind of negates the idea that he’s uninterested in eating. I would really like to be a fly on the wall in that guy’s house and understand what was going through his mind.

 

Do you walk around making zombie noises? RAAR. I do not make zombie noises, but Fred has suggested that I’m trying to suck out his soul with my crazy zombie eye. Which I’m totally not. What would I do with an extra soul, except sell it to the devil? Hmmm….

 

Do you suppose there are other animals still with that (and I use the term loosely here) man? I have a really sick feeling that Buddy was not the only one. We drive by his house a lot – we have to, to get out of Smallville – and you can bet that we’ll be keeping a very close eye on it from here on out! I do know he’s got a rooster, who looks quite proud and healthy. But then, roosters are pretty good at finding their own food, so maybe that explains that.

 

I dreamed last night that I went into the combination convenience store/animal rescue society that you run from your back yard (stop in, top off your tank, get a nice refreshing beverage, and take home a kitten!) to pick up Mr. Droopy there, and you told me you’d already found him a home, but you had a really cute pygmy elephant that needed a place. Turned out not to be an elephant at all, we decided upon closer inspection, just a grey cat; you’d gotten the tail confused for a trunk. By the way, don’t ever dye your hair blonde. Trust me. This dream cracks me UP. Does a convenience store/ animal rescue sound like a business we’d TOTALLY start up, or what? Also, it’s easy to confuse pygmy elephants and cats. Don’t judge me! (And I have no desire to go blond. If my hair gets any lighter than medium brown, it really washes me out, and I am NOT going to start wearing makeup!)

 

I went and looked up old marks made by hobos during the Depression and I think y’all need to check your fences for marks. I’m guessing y’all may have the animal equivalent of Can Sleep In Barn or Good People Live Here or Care Here if You Are Sick. I think Tell Pitiful Story might be out there too!

 

http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/2008/01/im-never-gonna.html Just to lighten the mood! What on earth is it about orange kitties and black kitties bonding? We’ve got two sets of orange-and-black (Sugarbutt and Tommy, and Miss Momma and Newt), and it seems like I’ve seen a lot of orange kitties hanging out with black ones. Is it a Halloween thing, or what?

 

You guys are the Animal Spa. Strays and fosters from across the world will start showing up to dry out, kick their catnip addiction and rehab. I love it. I’ve tried to convince Fred to build a nice big building so that we could foster more! kitties!, but he won’t go for it. Hmph.

 

Why do you have a little nook in your bathroom? Whatzit for? (other than stray dogs) Isn’t that nook the neatest thing? The previous owners were using it for storage – they had a storage shelf unit in it – and I tried to convince Fred that we (he) should wall it off and make a storage closet out of it, but I ended up putting a litter box there and it fits nicely (though I still wouldn’t mind having it walled in, with a door so that people who come to visit don’t have to look at the litter box).

 

what do you think about the news that the chick who found the [Heath Ledger’s] body called the olsen twins three times before she called 911? WTF were they going to do? I hadn’t heard that, so I went looking and found this article that confirms it. I don’t know what on earth the masseuse thought Mary-Kate Olsen could do – very strange. All I can guess is that maybe the masseuse is one of those people (like me!) who isn’t very good in an emergency, and that was what popped into her brain to do. I know that if I were to find Fred dead in his bed, my immediate response would be to call Mister Boogers. (Kidding. Really!)

 

Spot, sleeping in his favorite bed on my desk. (flickr) Previously 2007: No entry. 2006: No entry. 2005: Yesterday marked one year since Tubby died. 2004: Tubby is dead. 2003: No entry. 2002: Signs of spring. 2001: No entry. 2000: Some work day, huh?]]>

1-26-08

by @ Saturday, January 26th, 2008. Filed under Life

It was the most beautiful little bird I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen a juvenile owl before, and certainly not up close. It was moving, but it was pretty feeble, and the fact that one pupil was dilated and the other wasn’t a good sign, along with the fact that its head was cocked to one side. We put it in the carrier and put the carrier in the back of the car and headed off to the groomer to pick up the dog – and I’m going to call him “Buddy” from here on out, because it seems weird to keep calling him “the dog.” We fully expected that the owl would be dead before we got home, but when we got to the groomer we checked on it, and it was still breathing. Buddy was definitely cleaner, and his nails looked a thousand times better, and he had a jaunty little bandanna tied around his neck. “I’m sorry they did that to you,” I whispered to Buddy as we put him in the car. “I didn’t tell them to bandanna you up, I promise!” We stopped to pick up some takeout barbecue on the way home, and while Fred was inside the restaurant, Buddy tried to climb into the front seat, though he backed off when I told him no. He seemed a little agitated, and when Fred came back to the car, I suggested that he take the dog out to pee. The dog peed (but didn’t poop, for which we were grateful, because neither of us was looking forward to the idea of having to pick it up) and then happily climbed back into the car, sniffed around, and then curled up and went to sleep ’til we got home. To our surprise, the owl was still alive when we got home. We got everything inside, put the dog in the bathroom with food, and put the carrier with the owl in it in my bedroom closet and shut the door. We figured being warm and in the dark would be better for the owl than being in a brightly-lit area with cats peering at it constantly. We ate dinner, then let the dog out to explore the house. He walked around, sniffing everything, and freaking the cats out. He got too close to Mister Boogers (he wasn’t sniffing Mister Boogers, just happened to be in the general vicinity), who responded by hissing and boxing Buddy’s ears. Buddy responded by going immediately flat and riding it out. I yelled at Mister Boogers, who gave me a look and then ran off. A little while later, Maxi decided that Buddy needed a good smacking, and went after him. He rode that out, but it startled me, and I yelled at Maxi, who ran off. In and amongst all the excitement, Fred talked to a local wildlife rehabber, told her what was up with the owl, and made plans to meet up with her as soon as possible. We figured if the owl could be saved, she’d know it, and if it couldn’t, she would have a way to put it down humanely. I was in the middle of kitty Snackin’ Time (after the smacking from Maxu, Buddy had decided it was time for a nap, went upstairs, and got on his bed, so we shut the door so no cats would harass him) when the rehabber called to let us know she was on her way. I finished giving the cats their snacks, and we headed to meet her. She looked the owl over and said that in her opinion, it wouldn’t recover and she would put it down. We talked to her for a few more minutes (she told us how she’d one rehabbed a hawk, and I could see the jealousy rising from Fred’s brain like a cloud of smoke) and then went home. Once home, we settled down to watch TV, and I started feeling horrible. It appears that something I’d eaten – I suspect the coleslaw, since it has sugar in it, but it could have been the potato salad – was disagreeing with me, in a big way. For the next hour I proceeded to dump (note for the uninformed: this explains what dumping is). It was the worst case of dumping I’ve ever had – I was gagging and retching about every five minutes, but after the first time there was just nothing in my stomach to throw up. You know when you’re nauseous and you know nothing will make you feel better than to throw up? That’s how I felt, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Finally, in desperation, I started looking through the bottles of prescription medication and then I found a bottle of phenergan. I wasn’t sure if I should take one, I dithered about it, we went out for a walk around the back forty, but not much past the back yard the nausea ramped up and so we came back into the house so I could kneel over the toilet for a while longer. Finally, I Googled “RNY phenergan”, found that it was okay to take, and took one. Ten minutes later, the nausea was gone. We went to bed and talked, and by the time twenty minutes since I’d taken the pill had passed, I was starting to feel high, so Fred kissed me and went to bed. I ended up sleeping in ’til almost 9, and I feel kind of fuzzy-headed, but fine. I look like I got hit by a mack truck, though. Thanks to all the hanging over the toilet and retching and gagging, a shitload of blood vessels in and around my eyes burst (it’ll go away in a few days). The bruise kind of adds to the overall effect, no? Today, Buddy is even more interested in the world around him. Fred’s taken him for a couple of walks around the back forty, and he’s peeing and pooping like nobody’s business (the dog, too. Har har!). Fred gave him deworming medication last night, and this morning his poop was loaded with dead hookworms (Fred reported this to me – I didn’t see it myself, and I’m happy about that). Monday morning I’m going to call and make an appointment with a vet – hopefully the good one I take Miz Poo to, but at this point I really just want him to be seen, checked over for heart worm and tapeworms, and to get all his shots. At this point, no one with a couple hour drive has said that they want the dog. If no one does in the next few days, it looks like he’ll be going to a guy in Wisconsin who really, really wants him. People on the message board where Fred hangs out have stepped forward to help in getting him to Wisconsin – we just need someone who can drive from either Bowling Green, KY to Indianapolis OR from Clarksville, TN into Southern/ Middle Illinois. If anyone out there is interested in making the drive, let us know. We’re hoping to make that happen next weekend. Of course, if anyone around here wants him, let me know. Honestly, between the dog and the owl, I feel like we’re being asked to pay, bigtime, into the karma bank because we’re going to be required to make a large withdrawal at some point in the future. I hope I’m wrong about that!

 

Previously 2007: Are ya feelin’ bubbly, punk? Well? Are ya? 2006: I think it would be hilarious if someone started manufacturing imitation Maui Jim sunglasses and called them “Oahu James” sunglasses. 2005: I figure they’re professionals and know what they’re doing, so I have no desire to clutter up the small amount of space left in my brain with that kind of information. 2004: I sense that there is a battle of epic proportions in my future, a show-down between Miz Poo and I as to just WHO the blanket belongs to. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: But don’t tell Miz Poo I’m admiring another cat, please… 2000: It’s a conspiracy!]]>

1-25-08

by @ Friday, January 25th, 2008. Filed under Life

Le sigh. Yes, he’s cute. No, we’re not keeping him. He showed up in the side yard, skin and bones, and when Fred called the number on the tag, the guy who answered told him that he’d sold that dog several years back – and not only was he not interested in taking the dog back, he showed up, looked at the dog, and left, taking the collar with him. After finding out that the guy who owns this dog lives just down the street, we dithered about what to do. This is a dog who has been neglected. His nails are long, he’s skin and bones (the pictures just don’t do justice to how skinny he is). Finally, Fred called the sheriff’s office to see if we could get a deputy to come out and look at the dog and give us advice on what to do. The deputy came out and after he toddled his 12 year-old self around the house and looked at the dog (“For GOD’S SAKE don’t tell him how many cats we have!” I hissed at Fred before he answered the door), he was spectacularly unhelpful. Basically, all the deputy could do was call the dog catcher, who would come out and get him, and most likely ultimately put him to sleep. “Either way,” said the deputy. “There’s no way he’s going back to his owner. That dog’s in awful shape.” There’s a no-kill dog shelter nearby, but it has limited office hours, so knowing that he’d be in our possession for a while longer, Fred brought the dog inside and put him in the upstairs bathroom with food and water. Since the food we had was just some cheap stuff that had been sitting in the cupboard for several months, we went to the grocery store. We bought canned food. We bought dry food. We bought snacks. We bought things for him to chew on. We bought a collar. We bought a leash. We bought shampoo. We bought a dog bed. We bought some of those puppy pee pads. “You know, this really makes me mad,” Fred said as we checked out. “Any animal that steps one foot onto our land is treated like a king, and that guy can’t be bothered to give him the most rudimentary care.” “I know it.” We got home and Fred took the dog outside for a bathroom run. All the dog wanted was to get back inside where it was warm. (Side note: REALLY COLD OUT THERE. Right now, it’s 18º.) Fred gave the dog a bath, because that dog smelled BAD. The dog just stood there in the bathtub and let Fred bathe him without whimpering or fighting at all. After the dog was dried off, Fred opened a can of wet dog food and put it in a bowl. That dog wolfed the food down – he attacked it like he was starving to death, even though he’d eaten a bowl of the cheap dog food I’d given him while he was still outside. He ate half a can of Alpo and then another quarter of the can before he was full. He settled down on the bed we’d put in a corner of the bathroom. We left him with a bowl of dry dog food and a bowl of water, and went off to watch TV. Before bed, Fred took the dog back outside. The dog’s first act was to attempt to get back inside, and when Fred made it clear that they were going for a walk around the back yard, the dog sniffed around and did his business. Once his business was done, the dog headed right back to the back door. We left him in the bathroom overnight, worried that he’d come awake at 2 am and start howling because the one thing I know about beagles is that they don’t like to be confined. They want to ROAM. He was completely quiet, all night long. This morning when Fred went in the bathroom, he found that the dog hadn’t been able to hold his bladder – but he’d gone on the puppy pee pad. Fred took him outside, and the dog peed and pooped and then wanted back inside. It seems to us – though we’re not dog experts – that he’s house trained. This morning, he was at least a little more curious about the world around him, sniffing around the house on his way back to the bathroom. He actually wagged his tail for me when I went in there a little while ago, which he didn’t do yesterday at all. He’s spending most of his time eating and sleeping right now, but to see him brighter-eyed this morning was nice. Fred’s waiting until 11:00 to call the no-kill shelter and see if they can take him. If they can’t, we’re going to try to find a home for him. We are not keeping him, so you can shut up about that. We’re not dog people, we don’t want to add a dog to the household, and that’s that. Like I said, he seems to be house trained. He’s a very sweet, quiet, docile dog (that’s my impression, though it’s possible he’s just so quiet and docile because he’s exhausted and sick, I don’t know) and I imagine would make a good pet. He’s not showing all that much interest in the cats, though he sniffed at Mister Boogers this morning and got his ears boxed for that; he just responded by looking at Mister Boogers like “Okay, so angry gray kitty is not a friend. Noted.” He walks well on a leash – at least through the house. I put him on a leash and took him outside a little while ago, and he didn’t have to be pulled and he didn’t try to pull away; I don’t know how he is on a leash when you try to take him for a walk, maybe we’ll give that a try this afternoon. If anyone out there is seriously interested in him, please let me know. We’re willing to drive several hours to make sure he ends up in a safe, caring home. Obviously if the no-kill shelter cannot take him and one of you is interested in giving him a home, we’ll take him to the vet for a full examination and have him groomed (the sight of his nails makes me want to weep). I’ll keep y’all posted on what happens, of course.

 

Previously 2007: That damn sponge will never glare malevolently at me again, I’m sure of it. 2006: “Thy-y-y-yme is my crack! Yes it is!” 2005: He emailed me back immediately. You’re already too old to die tragically young. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: And Mildred and Myrtle were hanging out merrily in their very sheer bright yellow bra, waving at all and sundry. 2001: Just thinking about it makes me grumpy. 2000: Y’all stay warm, now!]]>

1-24-08

by @ Thursday, January 24th, 2008. Filed under Life, Picture Entries

 

At the pet store yesterday, I was thrilled to find out that Malley had FINALLY been adopted. I had Malley and his siblings way back… I think when Nance and Rick were here, actually. The day they left, I got Malley and his siblings. They were here about a month, then I took them to the pet store around the middle of November. Their siblings slowly got adopted, and then it was just down to Malley and Deuce. For the past three weeks, at least, Malley and Deuce had been sitting in a cage together. Deuce finally got adopted last week, so Malley went into a smaller cage by himself, and then he got adopted Tuesday evening. Now if only Punki and Felicia would get their butts adopted, too! I had a serious discussion with Punki, and I hope like hell that I get an email from the shelter manager over the weekend letting me know that they’ve been adopted. I’m starting to get a complex. Are our fosters getting the And3rson stank on them, thus repelling potential adopters, or what? Also, I finally took some pet store kitties pics (last week!), and you can see them hither.

 

Heath Ledger, what a shock, huh? I think what was so shocking was that he’s never been one of those “Celebrity on the edge!” types, so we just didn’t expect this at ALL. If it had been Britney, we would have been saddened, but not surprised. Damn. I always liked Heath Ledger, ever since I saw him in 10 Things I Hate About You.

 

I made it to my hair appointment right on time, and told my Hair Chick that it was time! Time to grow my hair out! I’ve had it short for a couple of years now, and I’d like to grow it out just enough to get annoyed with it and then chop it all off, because that’s the way I play it, baby. She colored it and trimmed it, and I left with a case of old-lady helmet head like always. Le sigh. This is the smug face I make that makes Fred want to smack me. Hell, I want to smack myself, seeing that look. (flickr) I swear to god, sometimes I think I should just chop all my damn hair off and go for this look. And if I was half as cute as Alyssa Milano, I just might! I’d be too self-conscious about my chin flab flapping in the wind, though. Not, I guess, that my current hair length masks it much. Fucking hair. I tell you what. One of you gets The Cancer and loses all your hair, I’ll shave mine off in sympathy. I will! Maybe. Probably. Possibly. Seriously. Or not. Am I too much of a scaredy-cat to do it? Test me! No, don’t. Yes, do! Eek!

 

I watched Real Housewives of Orange County yesterday afternoon, and damn. That was one EXPENSIVE-looking wedding. Why, with all the money George spent on the damn thing, Lauri could have had more plastic surgery! Oh, I jest. It was a pretty wedding, even if Lauri’s overcome-with-emotion face and sad face and thrilled face and shocked face are the exact same expression. I feel like her oldest daughter has had some kind of plastic surgery too – those lips aren’t real, are they? But then, when you have a kid whose mother nips and tucks herself into nonexistence practically, what can you expect, right? Quinn and Creepy Billy broke up? SHOCKER. Cara needs to either lighten her hair or go back to blond. She’s gone way too dark, it doesn’t look right (and now you’re going to tell me that’s her natural color, right?). All in all, the episode was kind of eh. It was nice to see Jo again, but I was reminded that she kind of annoys me. Your thoughts, RHoOC watchers?

 

Sunday afternoon, Fred was out working on the coop. I was inside puttering around the house, and I had to pee. Usually, no matter where I am in the house, I’ll go to the bathroom across from my bedroom, because it’s just the bathroom where I’m most comfortable. This time, since I was closest to the bathroom in the computer room (and yes, usually even when I’m in the computer room with the bathroom RIGHT THERE, I’ll get up and go to the bathroom across from the bedroom) I went in there. I pulled my pants down, and as I began to sit I thought “Huh. I wonder what time it is?” There’s not a clock in the bathroom, but there is one on the wall in the computer room near the side doors. So as I began to sat, I leaned way over and looked at the clock on the wall. I heard a distant hollow bong, then I sat the rest of the way down. “Only 3:30?” I thought to myself. “The day’s not going by too quickly. I’ve still got plenty of time to (do whatever it was I was planning to do, I don’t remember anymore)!” And then the source of the distant hollow bong hit home all of a sudden. My head had hit the edge of the sink, really pretty fucking hard, and it had taken several seconds for my pain receptors to send out the “JESUS CHRIST THAT HURT!” signals. “OW!” I said, clutching my head. “JESUS CHRIST THAT HURT!” I sat there, moaning and clutching my head until I was done peeing (because I am the ultimate kick-ass multi-tasker) and after a LONG fucking time (at least five minutes) it didn’t hurt quite so much, and I went about my day. I told Fred about it, and he laughed and laaaaaughed at the idea that I hadn’t just waited ’til I was done peeing to see what time it was. Then he looked at the place on my noggin where I’d hit my head, and declared that it wasn’t black and blue yet. I woke up Monday morning certain that I’d have a big ol’ badass black and blue mark on my forehead and I could tell people I’d been fighting with THE LAW and they tried to tase me, bro, but I’d LAUGHED at their tasing attempts – OH MY GOD. You can get “Don’t tase me, bro!” as a ring tone! That is EXCELLENT! Where was I? So yes, I woke up certain that I’d have a big, badass black and blue mark on my head, but I looked in the mirror, and no black and blue mark. AT ALL. What the fuck? So I whined to Fred about it and he said “You sound like you’re disappointed that you’re not black and blue.” And I said “OF COURSE I am. It hurt so fucking much that I think half my head should be black and blue to show the pain that I endured. And it still hurts!” Tuesday afternoon I checked again, and it seemed like there was a bit of a black and blue mark, but you had to look at it in the right light, and I made Fred look, and he patronizingly said “Oh yeah! Totally black and blue!”, but he remained unimpressed. Wednesday afternoon, FINALLY, some proof of the pain I’d endured. (flickr) Still, though, you’d think it’d be darker and nastier looking, since the area is STILL tender. I guess I’m just one of those people who doesn’t bruise easily. Is it weird that I’m disappointed by that? (Yeah, that was a rhetorical question.)

 

The Annoying of the Poo, a step-by-step instructional guide. Step 1: When Miz Poo is settled and comfortable in her favorite cat bed (on The Momma’s desk), jump up on the desk and sit near the cat bed, almost close enough to touch the bed, but not quite. Step 2: When Miz Poo looks angrily at you, give her a surprised look, like “Oh, I didn’t see you sitting there! How ya doin’? How’s The Momma? Seen any good movies lately? Sniffed any good butts?” Step 3: When Miz Poo just glares angrily at you instead of making polite chitchat, narrow your eyes at her. Say “Oh, I see we’re not feeling friendly today. Shocker.” Step 4: Make prolonged eye contact until her ears go back and she starts growling. Step 5: Studiously look away from Miz Poo, as if you cannot be bothered with her childish games. Quietly say “I’m not touching you. I am not TOUCHING you, you know.” Step 6: After enough time has passed, the annoyance of your being so close to Miz Poo will overwhelm her, and she will move from quiet growling to outright hissing. Pull your head back and give her an appalled look. Step 7:Calmly watch as Miz Poo becomes so angry that she cannot stand to be in the same ZIP code, and she stomps off angrily. Sometimes a quick swat to her hindquarters as she stomps off can be a good addition to the game, but it often backfires, as she does not care to have her hindquarters touched and she will turn around like a wildcat and box you about your ears and that always makes The Humans laugh at you because you tend to close your eyes and wave your paws in the air in hopes of making contact. For the purposes of this instructional guide, no swatting of Miz Poo’s hindquarters was attempted. Step 8: Revel in your victory.

 

Previously 2007: I’d sell all the kitties into kitty slavery for an iPhone. 2006: “Y’all shut UP. I don’t hear you complaining when you run around FARTING on everyone.” 2005: Letters. 2004: No entry. 2003: I swear, I have no control over my body sometimes. 2002: The shithole on Goddard Street. 2001: Lucky for her I’ve calmed down to a growling grumpiness, or it wouldn’t be a very good time to be the spud. 2000: We’re a pathetic lot, aren’t we?]]>

1-23-08

by @ Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008. Filed under Life

here’s an interesting way to help donate free rice. I like to think my vocabulary skillz are OFF DA HOOK, but I have discovered that I am so, so wrong. I’m far stupider than I ever thought possible – though I do surprise myself from time to time. I didn’t really know that excursus = digression, but when I don’t know a word and I guess, I somehow get it right about 75% of the time. And I’m not talking about educated guesses, I’m talking about “I have never heard that word before in my entire life. What the fuck could it possibly mean?” Don’t get addicted (I already am)! (Thanks to reader Leslie for sending the link along to me!)

 

Thanks, you guys, for your warming suggestions the other day. It was someone’s suggestion of a warming throw that set off a light bulb in my head, and I recalled that last year (or possibly the year before) I actually bought a twin-size electric blanket to keep on the couch because I was so damn cold all the time. When I went upstairs to find it and bring it downstairs, I found that Fred had put it on his bed rather than the king-size electric blanket he was supposed to use, so I shrugged and brought the king-size one downstairs, folded it in half, plugged it in, snuggled under it, and I was warmwarmwarm. Last night while we were watching TV, Fred stole half my blanket, so we were both nice and warm. We had actually discussed the idea of putting a brick in the fireplace then wrapping it in a towel, but never got around to the implementation of the idea. I like the hot water bottle and cheap hot water bottle (2-liter bottle, filled with hot tap water) suggestions, too. Y’all rock! And thanks, also, for your cat water fountain suggestions. I’m going to wait a little while to actually purchase one because although I was going to get one at the pet store this morning after my scoop-and-feed session (the regular Wednesday morning volunteer switched with me this week), I realized that I have a 9:00 hair appointment, and the pet store doesn’t actually open for business ’til 9:00, and I don’t want to have to drive alllll the way back after my appointment, so I’ll wait and buy it next Monday.

 

Since it’s getting late and I need to scoot out of here, how ’bout some links to check out, some pictures to admire, and a promise to see you tomorrow? Works for me!

 

Lovelle Svart shared through online videos the struggle and choices of her final months and her decision to die with dignity. The Tapeworm Diet (I got the link from Big Fat Deal). I looked at the site (just out of morbid curiosity, I assure you), but when I ran across the sentence “I have the cyst, what now?”, I was pretty sure if I read any more I’d start to dry heave, so I bookmarked it to share with y’all and then surfed in another direction. Because that is FUCKING NASTY, Y’ALL. These Kindle Candles were quite handy over the weekend. We didn’t buy them – the previous owners left them behind for us – but when we’re out, I think we’ll probably be buying some more. Nabakov wanted his last work destroyed. His son seems to be waffling about it. Should he destroy it or share it with the world? Personally, I think his wishes should be honored and it should have been destroyed long before now. I say that as someone who’s NOT a Nabakov fan, but even if we were talking about someone whose work I really enjoy (helLEW Stephen King!), I’d say honor the final wishes. On the other hand, Nabakov’s dead, so what does he care? You know you can go to The Animal Rescue Site and click on the “Click here to give!” box, and sponsors pay for food and care of rescued animals, right? Come on, it only takes a second! I think this is so neat – these nap pads (for dogs and cats) are filled with recycled soda bottles. I got one (an extra-small) for the cats when I was in Maine, and they love it. Newt sleeps there most nights. I linked to the Silver Jewelry Club before, but I’m linking again. Such a neat site – you get jewelry for only the cost of shipping, and so far as I can tell, they’re good quality pieces (I have several sets of earrings and a few rings, but I also don’t wear jewelry all that often). Depending on how bored I am, I visit the site either a couple of times a day, or many times a day. The best blog you’re not reading. I “discovered” it through my referral stats over the weekend and am slowly working my way through the archives.

 

Fun with kittehs and the feather toy! So close! “This displeases me.” Believe it or not, I’m walking on air! I never thought I could feel so free-hee-hee! Flying away on a wing and a prayer! Who could it be? Believe it or not it’s just Toms! I love this picture not so much because of the position I caught Skittles in, but because of the face. Here’s a closeup: Crack me UP. Pretty, pretty befanged ballerina.

 

Previously 2007: Questions answered. 2006: You can’t ride two horses with one ass. 2005: No entry. 2004: Damn Home Depot. 2003: Yep. READY FOR SPRING! 2002: Sam’s rocks. Just so you know. 2001: I don’t know how on earth I missed it the first time around. But I’m sure it was Fred’s fault. 2000: “Fred, is F-A-G a bad word?”]]>

1-22-08

by @ Tuesday, January 22nd, 2008. Filed under Life

McLovin’ would like to warm his toes by the fire, pls. Yesterday started out as one of those really cold days, and we bitched and whined about being cold, and Fred built a fire, and we harrumphed about how it was supposed to be in the 40s, but it didn’t look like it was going to come anywhere near that warm, and then Fred went off to the co-op to look for a heated water bowl for the chickens and I started doing what I’d been putting off for too long: dumping the dirty litter out of the litter boxes, scrubbing them down, and refilling them with clean litter. GOD I hate doing that, and I always put it off for longer than I should, even though it’s really not such a big job. It’s one of those jobs that needs to be done and it isn’t that big an undertaking, but I just hate doing it – like dusting. It ended up taking me about an hour to get all four litter boxes emptied, scrubbed, dried and refilled. Usually I scrub the litter boxes outside, filling them with soapy water, letting them soak for a few minutes, and then scrubbing them down and rinsing them. That wasn’t an option yesterday, obviously, what with the arctic chill, so I used my favorite cleaning spray, let them sit for a minute, then scrubbed them down with cleaning rags. As always, the task took longer than it should’ve because the cats were all freaked out “Whatcha doin, Mom, are you taking our litter boxes away, WHY ARE YOU TAKING OUR LITTER BOXES AWAY WHERE WILL WE PLAY AND HARASS EACH OTHER?!” and had to get in the middle of everything. And of course, once the litter boxes were all filled with clean litter, the secret signal went out and every friggin’ cat in the house had to take turns going into EVERY LITTER BOX and stink them up. Once the litter boxes were emptied, scrubbed, and refilled, I threw on my heavy winter coat and started taking bags of dirty litter over to the trash can. “The nightgown really makes that outfit,” Fred said, laughing at me. Yes, I was still in my nightgown, had a parka over it, and sneakers on my feet. I was quite the fashion statement, but hell – we live in the country. If you can’t wander around in your nightgown and parka in the country, where can you? I got the laundry started, and then Fred mentioned that he might go back to the co-op and see what they had for standalone heaters. When we were in Lowe’s Sunday, we looked and looked at the heaters, but couldn’t decide on one and ended up leaving without one. It’s my hope that I can talk Fred into a pellet stove for the front room before next winter. I don’t think I’m going to be successful, but hope springs eternal and all that jazz. Since I had a ton of stuff to take to the recycling center, I suggested he wait ’til I take my shower, then we could run both our errands together. He grudgingly agreed (because when he decides he wants to do something he wants to do it NOW and doesn’t like to wait around) and off I went. After the recycling center, we stopped at Tractor Supply to see if they had any water fountains for cats (like the Drinkwell), because I’d noticed that Spot was having an issue seeing where the top of the water in the water bowl was, and what he likes to do is practically get in the damn water bowl and swim around and make the surface of the water ripple, and then he tromps through the water he splashed, and leaves footprints down the hallway and down the stairs WHEN I JUST CLEANED THOSE FREAKIN’ STAIRS NOT TEN MINUTES BEFORE and I don’t want to have to kill him because then I’d have to make up a story for y’all about how he ran away and didn’t come back, oh well, he was old! Maybe he went off to die! So Tractor Supply didn’t have a cat water fountain – which wasn’t surprising, I hadn’t expected they would, really – and they also didn’t have humidifiers (ditto), and Fred looked at the standalone heaters for a few minutes before we headed to the co-op. Fred stood and looked at the heaters for several minutes while I looked to see if they carried cat fountains (nada) or humidifiers (nada again), and we talked about the heaters, and we dithered and talked some more, and ultimately decided to wait (though he doesn’t know the reason I’m so willing to wait, which is because Operation Convince Fred to Buy a Pellet Stove will be going into full force over the summer, and it might run along the lines of “You get some goats, I get me a pellet stove”, whereupon I expect him to point out that MY stuff (as seen in Operation Convince Fred We Need a Roomba – “You get a rooster, I get me a Roomba”) is always more expensive than HIS stuff, and then I’ll have to say “Yes, but YOUR stuff is always a bigger pain in the ass”, which is SO TRUE), so we left. Which reminds me – do you have a cat water fountain? Do you love it? Leave me a comment and tell me what kind you recommend. I’ll be at the pet store on Wednesday and plan to get one then. We got home and Fred went out to work on the chicken coop and I did more laundry, cleaned the kitchen, put more wood on the fire, made a shepherd’s pie to have for lunch, put together meatballs for dinner, put laundry away, and finally vacuumed the entire downstairs with the Dyson. First time I’ve had to vacuum in about a week. Lupe the Roomba does a fabulous job, but when it comes down to it, the Dyson still needs to make a trip around the house every so often to keep things really clean. About 2:00, when I was sitting at my desk eating lunch, the smoke detector in the dining room went off, and I realized that the wood in the fireplace was smoking a LOT, and the house had filled with smoke. I tried to turn the smoke detector off, but I couldn’t reach it, and I had to ask Fred to come in and help. We ended up opening windows through the house (the front room was especially smoky) for ten minutes to get rid of the smoke. Luckily, the temperature had actually reached the mid-40s as weather.com predicted, so it wasn’t too bad. Annnd.. that’s it. I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner (which we had with leftover vegetable medley), I finished the laundry (my new coat from LL Bean, of which I was so proud? I dribbled food down the front of it OF COURSE and had to wash it. Damnit. But YAY! for coats that are washable and don’t have to be dry-cleaned.), I thought about dusting but decided not to because I didn’t wanna. We spent the evening watching TV, and were in bed by 9:30. We’re so exciting, aren’t we?

 

Hey. How ’bout some pictures? Skittles is such a pretty girl. Did I mention that Skittles is a pretty girl? When Kathy came to visit a few months ago, she brought this basket for me. It’s an egg-gathering basket! Unfortunately, the girlz have been horribly lax about producing eggs lately (if we get two eggs, it’s a good day), so I put cat toys in the basket and put it in a corner of the dining room. Mister Boogers pulled all the toys out of the basket, pushed it away from the wall and claimed it as his. Miss Momma was watching Fred eat his bowl of bran flakes, and he took a bran flake out of his bowl and laid it next to her to see if she’d eat it. Which is when she gave him the dead-eyed Tony Soprano look. “Ah hets yew.”

 

Previously 2007: more than once I got frustrated and called Fred at work and wove an impressive tapestry of profanity that impressed him 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: You don’t actually have to say the words “You’re a dumbass” to get the idea across, and thus when your wife is mad at you later and you so very innocently say “Are you mad about something?” and she says “YOU CALLED ME A DUMBASS!” and you say “I did NOT call you a dumbass!”, you are wrong and she is right and you’d best commence to begging for forgiveness, you fucker. 2003: Little bastard. 2002: I can’t believe I’m FUCKING FALLING DOWN. 2001: No entry. 2000: I apologize for the lameness of this entry.]]>

1-21-08

by @ Monday, January 21st, 2008. Filed under Life

 

A few years ago, when I was shopping in Crabtree and Evelyn, I spotted a box of citrus-scented disposable towelettes on sale, so I grabbed four boxes. When I got home and tried them out, I was very pleased – they’re a nice size, they smell good, and I keep a couple in my purse at all times. I don’t use them all that often, but they are VERY handy to have around. Yesterday, I grabbed one out of my desk to wipe Tommy’s butt (GOD the smell), which is when I realized that I was down to my last three wipes. I Googled around and found them here, offered at 50% off while supplies last, and they’re 53 cents cheaper per box than if you get them directly from C&E. If you have the need for some decent wipes, I recommend them, especially at that price!

 

I spent the weekend alternating between being really hot and really cold. The temperature has dropped, and on Saturday it never got above the mid-30s, which doesn’t sound all that bad but with the wind chill factor it was in the teens. It was actually cold enough that I sucked it up and asked Fred to make a fire in the dining room. He did, and kept it going well all day, but the problem is that the fireplace keeps the dining room nice and warm, but it doesn’t do much for any other room in the house. We turned on the ceiling fan to circulate the heat and put a floor fan in one corner of the room, but the temperature in the hallway never got above 68, and only got that high because that’s what the thermostat was set on. (flickr) Fred didn’t work outside on Saturday because not only was it cold, it was dreary and overcast, and so he went to Closeville and got some movies and some junk food and we were all set. I bundled up under a blanket while we watched our first movie and I wouldn’t say I was “warm” exactly, but I wasn’t too terribly cold, either. Friday night we’d started watching Mr. Woodcock (and only got about ten minutes into that before deciding we weren’t interested in it and stopping it) and one of the trailers at the beginning of the DVD was for Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay and we discussed that neither of us had seen Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle and maybe we should check it out, so when Fred went to the movie store Saturday morning, he got that. We watched about 20 minutes of Harold & Kumar and were both tired from having just eaten lunch that we decided we needed to pause the movie and take a nap. I only napped for about 15 minutes, then stayed in bed and petted Miz Poo and Elle the Belly and Skittles, and wandered around the house, and stood in front of the fire, and visited the bathroom due to some intestinal distress, and about an hour after we’d paused the movie, we settled down to watch the rest of it. I had to get up several times during the next hour to go to the bathroom, and told Fred not to bother to pause the movie, because I wasn’t THAT interested in it, and besides it was clearly one of those movies you can miss 3/4 of and still not really miss a thing. But at one point I came back from the bathroom and sat down and Fred paused the movie to recap what had happened. “And Kumar said this and Harold said that,” he said (paraphrased). “Wait,” I said. “Who’s Harold?” Fred looked at me. “The asian guy? The one who’s not Kal Penn?” and “You idiot!” was rightly implied but not spoken aloud, because he’s not suicidal. All in all, it wasn’t a bad movie, though if you asked me about any plot points I wouldn’t be able to tell you a damn thing except that Kal Penn, he’s a cutie pie and looks like just the nicest guy on earth. After dinner (for Fred, because I still wasn’t feeling up to par), we settled back down and I whined about how cold I was, even though I was wearing a sweatshirt and slippers and had a blanket over me, and Fred got up and got a quilt and went in the dining room and held it up in front of the fire for several minutes, then came back in and tossed the quilt over me, and it was HEAVEN. We watched The Heartbreak Kid, which wasn’t bad, but it was no There’s Something about Mary, either. The girl who played Miranda, Michelle Monaghan, looks strikingly like Justine Bateman to me. And I usually like Ben Stiller, not least because he just looks like the nicest guy. I feel like I’ve heard that he’s an ass in real life, though. Anyone else hear that, or did I just make it up and decide it was fact? After, Fred put some dorky looking dragon movie in and I read magazines while he watched that (and he went off to warm up my quilt by the fire again a couple of times), and after he fast-forwarded through the movie to see the dragon parts (which he found somewhat lacking), he took the movie out and said “What now? It’s kind of late to start a movie. Do you want to see if we have anything on the DVR?” Which is when I gave him a look to let him know I thought he was crazy, and indicated that it was time to watch us some Arrested Development. We decided before we started watching the DVDs I bought on eBay that we would only allow ourselves to watch two episodes at a time, because otherwise we’d blow through all three seasons in no time flat, and then be sitting around all sad, saying “NOW what are we going to watch?!” We’re halfway through Season 2, and still loving the hell out of it. The more I watch it, the more I appreciate Will Arnett. The more I appreciate all of them, actually. I love the HELL out of that show. We were in bed asleep by 10:00, because we are such the party people. Sunday morning Fred said he thought he’d be working outside on the coop, because it was cold but the sun was shining. He ended up working out there for just a little while before deciding it was too goddamn cold out there, coming inside for breakfast, and then asking if I wanted to go to Nearville to the pet store to see if they had a heated water bowl he could buy for the chickens, and then to Lowe’s because I’d decided that we needed Roman shades for the front room. See, the windows that are directly over the couch where we sit and watch TV in the evenings look out onto the porch, and after we had our most recent visit from the walkin’ dude, Fred went out onto the porch after dark and realized that anyone standing on the porch can see pretty well into the living room, even with the blinds shut. The blinds, I should point out, were pretty close to the cheapest blinds we could buy at Lowe’s last year when we were renovating. We can close them so that the front part of the blinds go down, but if we try to close them the other way – so the front part goes up – they won’t close all the way. Yesterday, when we watched our movies, the blinds didn’t block the light enough, and the light coming through glared off the TV screen, which bothered Fred quite a bit. I decided that putting Roman shades OVER the blinds might be something that could work for us, so I wanted to see what Lowe’s had to offer. Lowe’s had to offer nothing that we wanted, except for one kind of shade that was NOT hideously ugly, but WAS expensive as hell, so we went and looked at the blinds. The blinds the previous owners had hanging in this house were ugly, textured, fake-wood 2″ blinds, and I disliked them so much that I decided ALL fake-wood 2″ blinds were hideously ugly and were not going to hang in MY house. However, yesterday we actually found some very simple, decent-looking fake-wood 2″ blinds at Lowe’s that we liked well enough, so we got three for the windows in the TV-watching area. We’re going to see how well they work, and if they block the light enough, we’re going to replace the blinds in the other three windows in the front room with the same blinds. At the same time, we got blinds to put over the window on the door. The window on the door isn’t completely clear – there’s a pattern there – but if you stand in front of it, you can see well enough in the house if you spend enough time looking, and the idea of someone being able to see that well into the house just creeps me out. (flickr) I think that we might replace the door at some point in the future, but for the time being, the blinds will ensure that no one can see into the house unless we invite them in, and that makes me feel a lot safer. After we left Lowe’s, we drove to three different pet stores looking for a heated water bowl for the chickens. We were unable to find one anywhere, so we finally gave up and came home. After lunch, Fred went and worked on the chicken coop for a couple of hours, then came inside and hung blinds, and I just generally sat around on my dead ass for most of the afternoon (though I did run Lupe the Roomba through her paces in Fred’s room, the rest of the upstairs, and the laundry room, which is not so much me “doing something” as me “instructing the robotic maid to do something while I sit on my dead ass”, and also “rescuing the robotic maid from places where she likes to hung up, ie – the grate in the floor of Fred’s room”) until it was time for dinner. For dinner, I threw together a vegetable medley consisting of sauteed onion, garlic, summer squash, okra, green beans, and dehydrated cherry tomatoes (except for the onion and garlic, we grew everything ourselves!), which we had with leftover turkey and rice casserole. After dinner, we had to say about a thousand times “Wow, that is SUCH a good meal!”, because guess what? It truly is. I’d have to put turkey and rice casserole pretty close to the top of my favorites list, although the making of the turkey and rice casserole (the boiling of the turkey carcass and picking the turkey off the bones) is kind of a pain in the ass. Then we did our usual evening stuff – hanging out on our computers, watching TV, loving on the kitties. Despite the cold, a pretty good weekend. And best of all, it’s a three-day weekend so it’s not over yet!

 

Elle the Belly makes herself at home. She’s such a sweet girl!

 

Previously 2007: No entry. 2006: No entry. 2005: Yeah, it doesn’t take a whole lot to make us laugh, I guess. 2004: Now isn’t there anything we can do to force Joey Buttafuoco back into obscurity? 2003: So if you meet me in person and expect a “Mighty fucking fine to meet you, fuckface!”, you’ll likely be disappointed. 2002: Wrong on that one, Brigitte. Trust me. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

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